jerked Desmond back to consciousness with a curse
upon his lips. He found himself lying in a hospital doolie set in the
shade on a slab of rock. Both flaps had been flung up, and James
Mackay stood beside him, investigating the wound in his face with
conscientious thoroughness. It was not a pleasant proceeding. Hence
Desmond's protest, which brought a twinkle of satisfaction to the
doctor's eyes.

"Curse away, old man. It's a treat to hear you," he said heartily,
"Just take a drop of this now, to keep you all there," and he held a
glass of brandy and water to Desmond's lips. "They've given you a
nasty wound here. Wants looking to at once. I'm going to hurt you like
hell, I know; but you must put up with it. Swear at me as much as you
please, if it eases you at all."

He probed a peculiarly tender spot as he spoke. Desmond clenched his
teeth and "put up with it" in silence. Free permission to swear had
quenched the desire--a common trick of human perversity; and just as
he began to feel that one minute more of it would stretch endurance to
breaking-point--the thing was done. A sloping bandage encircled his
head, eclipsing his right eye; and he discovered that the Colonel was
standing by the doolie, tugging at his grey moustache--sure sign of
mental disturbance--and listening attentively to the wiry little
doctor, who spoke in an urgent undertone.

He turned when Mackay left off speaking.

"Bad business this, Desmond," he said laconically. "Thank God it was
no worse, though."

And Desmond had but two words for answer, sharp and anxious.

"The Boy?"

"We've lost Denvil," Buchanan growled between his teeth. "And we could
very ill spare him."

Desmond closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Speech was beyond him.
His mind, dizzy with pain and loss of blood, refused to grasp the
truth. Two hours ago the Boy had been radiantly, vigorously alive. It
was rank foolishness to expect a man to believe that he would never
hear him speak or laugh again.

He was roused by Buchanan's hand on his arm.

"Look here, Desmond," he said, "we must be moving again now. I merely
came to see how things were going with you before pushing on."

"Thank you, Colonel. I'm in the rear for the present, I suppose?" And
he tried to smile.

"Not exactly. As we are within two days' march of the station and
there's little left to do but sweep up the rubbish, I have told off a
strong escort to return to Kohat with the wounded men,--Denvil, an