"Halt! Who are you?"
The form of a sentinel, rifle raised, rose up before him in the darkness
and the rain.
"Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Winchester's regiment, bringing in
Lieutenant George Warner of the same regiment, who is badly wounded."
The sentinel lowered his rifle and looked at them sympathetically.
"Hangs like he's dead, but he ain't," he said. "You'll find a sort of
hospital over thar in the big tents among them trees."
Dick found the improvised hospital, and put George down on a rude cot,
within the shelter of one of the tents.
"He's my friend," he said to a young doctor, "and I wish you'd save him."
"There are hundreds of others who have friends also, but I'll do my best.
Shot just under the right shoulder, but the bullet, luckily, has turned
and gone out. It's loss of blood that hurt him most. You soldiers kill
more men than we doctors can save. I'm bound to say that. But your
friend won't die. I'll see to it."
"Thank you," said Dick. He saw that the doctor was kind-hearted, and a
marvel of endurance and industry.
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