At the hospital door, as they passed, Dr. Martin
appeared.
"Hello, Cameron!" he cried. "Got him, eh? Great Caesar, man, what's
up?" he added as Cameron, turning his head, revealed a face and neck
bathed in blood. "You are white as a ghost."
"Get me a drink, old chap. I am nearly in," said Cameron in a faint
voice.
"Come into my tent here," said the doctor.
"Got to see these prisoners safe first," said Cameron, swaying on his
feet.
"Come in, you idiot!" cried the doctor.
"Go in, Cameron," said Constable Scott. "I'll take care of 'em all
right," he added, drawing his gun.
"No," said Cameron, still with his hand on goatee Bill's collar. "I'll
see them safe first," saying which he swayed drunkenly about and, but
for Bill's support, would have fallen.
"Go on!" said Bill good-naturedly. "Don't mind me. I'm good now."
"Come!" said the doctor, supporting him into the tent.
"Forward!" commanded Constable Scott, and marched his prisoners before
him up the hill.
The wound on Cameron's head was a ghastly affair, full six inches long,
and went to the bone.
"Rather ugly," said the doctor, feeling round the wound. "Nurse!" he
called. "Nurse!" The little nurse came running in. "Some water and a
sponge!"
There was a cry behind her--low, long, pitiful.
"Oh, what is this?" With a swift movement Nurse Haley was beside the
doctor's bed.
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