ch!
Heinrich! Tell me what is the matter! Can't I help you?"

Sickel gazed thoughtfully at the two friends. He remembered the moment
of departure, and how gay and merry the two gunners had been together.
Suddenly he turned his head to one side and listened.

"The doctor is coming," he said.

Immediately afterwards the portly assistant medical-officer,
Rademacher, came down into the hollow. "Well, what is the matter here?"
he asked.

He turned first of all to the driver, but Sickel motioned him away;
"Excuse me, sir, but there's plenty of time for me. The other man there
needs you more."

Rademacher bent down over Klitzing. When he saw the blood-stained froth
on the lips his face involuntarily put on a grave expression. He laid
his ear to the chest and listened for a long time.

"What happened to the man?" he inquired.

Vogt pointed to Eidechse, who was gazing across at them with dull eyes,
and answered: "She kicked him in the chest."

"Badly?"

"Yes, sir. He threw himself between, so that I should not be kicked
again."

The fat doctor looked up surprised. This was an unusually touching
incident in the rough life of a soldier. He saw the tears in the young
man's honest eyes, and he understood.

"Then you were great friends?"

"Yes, sir. And--and--how is he now?"

Rademacher looked hesitatingly down at the mortally wounded man, and
answered evasively: "Well--we must wait and see."

Once more he listened to the breathing, then stood up. According
to his diagnosis the injured man had but a few hours to live, at the
most--perhaps even only minutes.

"Has he recovered consciousness at all?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; but only for a very short time."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"But what's wrong with you?" he said, turning to the bombardier.

"My leg's rather queer, sir. Old Turk fell on it, and it's sprained, I
suppose. But I expect you can soon put it right, sir."

Rademacher removed the driver's riding-trousers with the aid of the
hospital-orderly.

His examination was soon over.

"You have a double fracture of the thigh," he said. "But we'll soon set
it for you."

Sickel listened open-mouthed.

"Then I shall be ready to leave when I get my discharge?" he inquired.

The medical officer smiled. "No, my friend, it will take from four to
six weeks."

This was too much for the driver, and he grumbled loudly. He would
cheerfully have been more hurt, although, as it was, he had had a
narro