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Updated: June 6, 2025
When he spoke she gave a start and turned eagerly to him. "Duane!" she cried. "Hello. How're you, Jennie, and how am I?" he said, finding it a little difficult to talk. "Oh, I'm all right," she replied. "And you've come to your wound's healed; but you've been sick. Fever, I guess. I did all I could."
For a moment the young assailant stood there with an expression of dismayed shock, as though, in his sleep, he had committed a crime and had awakened into an appalled realization. Then, ignoring Brent, he wheeled and lunged madly into the laurel. Parson Acup was bending over him and when he rose it was with a dubious face. "I fears me thet wound's mighty liable ter be a deadener," he said.
In an instant my hand went up to my throat, and I loosened the silk handkerchief knotted there. "Your wound's bleeding dreadfully, sir; let me tie it up." "No, no; not till I've seen to the men, my lad," he replied peevishly as he turned away, only, however, to turn back. "Yes," he said, with a smile; "thanks, lad. First aid, and here! Water, some one. Ugh! I feel sick as a dog."
He showed me his water-bottle, penetrated by another bullet, which had inflicted a further, but slight, wound. There were many more serious cases than mine to be attended to. After about five or ten minutes an orderly slit up my breeches. "The wound's in the front of the hip," I said. "Yes, but there's a larger wound where the bullets come out, sir."
Yours is intended to instruct; and though it bites, it pleases at the same time: no fear of a wound's wrankling or festering by so delicate a point as you carry; not envenomed by personality, not intending to expose, or ridicule, or exasperate. The most admired of our moderns know nothing of this art: Why? Because it must be founded in good nature, and directed by a right heart.
I ain't a surgeon, my friend, but I hear a lot of surgeon talk. It's the shock in a man of his age. The wound's clean, so far not a thread in it, I hear. Shock and gangrene that's what we look out for. . . . What's the news down by the river?" "I don't know," said Berkley. "Don't you know if you got licked?" "I don't think we did. You'd hear the firing out here much plainer."
But my old mother used to say that it was a good sign when a cut smarted a lot. So I s'pose my wound's first rate, for it smarts like a furze bush in a fit." "I wish I could bathe it for you, Jem." "Thank ye, Mas' Don. I wish my Sally could do it. More in her way." "We must try and bear it all, I suppose, Jem.
'Why, what's the matter with you? the cavalry captain asked me. 'Set your mind at rest; the wound's not serious. He'll be able to dance by to-morrow, if you like. Or are you sorry you didn't kill him? You're wrong, if you are; he's a first-rate fellow. 'What business had he to spare me! I muttered at last.
Are they really gone?" whispered the subaltern feebly. "Yes, Parker, it's quite true. They've gone. You've helped to save India. You held them off God knows how you did it. Your wound's a nasty one; but you'll get over it." He rose and held out his hands to the others. "Shabash! And the men of the alien race pressed round him and clasped his hands gratefully.
If he isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's the Hail-Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to be sure; but he's bound to be a chief one of these days!" Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and entered the great area of the village. Superb naked figures stood silently gazing on us. "Where's the Bad Wound's lodge?" said I to Reynal. "There, you've missed it again!
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