Part 35 (1/2)
”You saw the Rajah to speak to, then?”
”Oh, yes, sir. I went straight to the side of his elephant. He says the engagement is over for to-day, and the enemy beaten off.”
”Humph!” growled Wyatt. ”Seems more like our being beaten in.”
”Yes, sir. He said, too, that he should like to see Captain Hulton as soon as he could come.”
”Then he will have to wait some time,” muttered Wyatt. ”Here, stay with Mr Darrell, Sergeant. Do all you can to help him, and then see to the men who are well enough being moved. We must have another room for them.”
Wyatt stepped to the wounded men, said a few encouraging words to them, and then, telling his brother-officer he would be back as soon as possible, he went out to see to the prospects of defence, in case the enemy should obtain a lodgment in the city.
”What can I do, sir?” said the sergeant, crossing to where his young officer was busy with the wounded men.
”Anything, Stubbs. Hold this poor fellow up while I see to his wound.”
”Right, sir. Who is it? Oh, it's you, Dundas.--Slit the linen right down, sir; that's the way.--How are you, my lad?”
”Bit sicky, Sergeant.--'Tar'n't much, is it, sir?”
”I hope not,” said d.i.c.k. ”The bullet is embedded in the muscles of the back. I will not attempt to extract it--only stop the bleeding.”
”Pretty sort of a fellow you are, Joe Dundas, to get a wound like that,”
said the sergeant, holding a bra.s.s basin of water for the amateur surgeon to use. ”I should be ashamed of it!”
”I am, Sergeant,” said the man, smiling.
”Let it be a lesson to you, my lad. Never turn your back to the enemy.
Always show 'em your face.”
”Shouldn't keep our guns long if we did, Sergeant,” said the man grimly.
”Do I hurt you?” said d.i.c.k.
”Well, it isn't what one might call pleasant, sir. Not the sort of thing a man would choose to amuse him.”
”But you can bear it?”
”Oh, yes, sir, I can bear it.”
”Because I find I can touch the bullet, and it will be better out.”
”Out with it, then, sir,” said the sergeant; ”Joe won't mind. Nasty ragged kind of bullets these are which they fire from their matchlocks, and they irritate.”
”That hurt you, Dundas?”
”Yes, sir; but you go on,” replied the man, who had winced from the pain he suffered.
”Yes, go on, sir,” growled the sergeant. ”You're too easy with him.
He's a man--not a gal. Never mind making him squeak. Our last surgeon used to say it did good and set up a healthy action.”