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I turned and followed him to the ruinous cowshed which was my divisional headquarters. Wake, as I heard later, had swum the river opposite to Mitchinson's right, and reached the other shore safely, though the current was whipped with bullets. But he had scarcely landed before he was badly hit by shrapnel in the groin.
Who the devil are they fighting with?" Mitchinson's eye had lost its lethargy. His scraggy neck was craned forward, and his grim mouth had relaxed into a grimmer smile. "It's them, sure enough," said St. John, and spoke something to his servant. "I'm going forward," said George. "It may be somebody else making a stand, and we're bound to help." "You're bound not to be an ass," said St. John.