"'Cause I wasn't born a doctor," grumbled Joey. "Hops is my line--I can tie them up. Thought you pleecemen did that sort of thing."

The constable coughed.

"How long will the doctor be?" he said.

"All depen's whether he's at home or not. P'raps he's gone on a twenty mile round."

"Then we'd better get a door and carry him somewhere," suggested the policeman.

"Nay, it's in and out bad enough moving him at all, Joey," cried Smiler.

"I won't help move him, for it'll finish him off if we do."

The constable frowned, hesitated, and finally said:

"Well, as you have sent for the doctor, we'll wait."

And they waited for quite two hours before the man who had been again and again sent up to play Sister Anne in the great cowl came down at last to say that he had seen the doctor's chaise coming along the lane, and five minutes after a keen-looking youngish man entered the great barn-like place, examined his patient at once, asking questions the while, and then with clever hands put a stop to further bleeding, bandaged the wound, and contrived that a little water should trickle between the sufferer's lips.

"Now then," said the doctor, "the poor fellow ought to be taken over to Ratcham to the military hospital; but you had better get a door, and we'll lay him on that and you will carry him to the Seven Steers. It isn't above a mile, is it?"

"Mile an harf, sir," said Joe.

"Well, he must be carried there. To-morrow the people at Ratcham will send an ambulance to fetch him. Now, then, a light door."

"Don't see as we can get a door off without tools, sir," said Smiler.

"What d'yer say to a huddle?"

"The very thing. We can lift this mattress right on to it, and it will be lighter and easier to carry."

The light hurdle was soon brought, and the rough bed lifted carefully on. Volunteers were plentiful enough, and one of the men was sent on in advance to the little roadside inn, to give warning of the approach of the wounded man, while the four bearers--possibly from the load being what it was--stepped out in regular slow military fashion, and went on along the dusty lane.

"Will he die, sir?" whispered Joey, as they reached the road.

The doctor shook his head.

But fate had destined that the patient should find a different resting-place that night, for before half a mile had been traversed the sound of wheels was heard behind, and the doctor called to the party to step on one side of the lane and to let the waggonette which approached pa.s.s by.

This necessitated a halt, which was taken advantage of for a change to be made in the bearers; and, while this was going on, the waggonette was stopped, and the younger of two ladies within the vehicle addressed the doctor.

"What is the matter?" she asked. "An accident?"

"Rather worse than an accident, I'm afraid," said the doctor, raising his hat in a combination of respect and admiration for the speaker. "A young soldier has been found injured by a bullet."

"And you are taking him to Ratcham?"

"No; to the neighbouring public-house. But, may I ask, are you going into Ratcham?"

"Yes, yes," said the lady excitedly, as she rose, held on by the rail of the driver's seat, and peered over the heads of the bearers, adding wildly--"Oh, aunt, aunt! it must be poor Smithson they have found."

"Anna, my dear, what are you going to do?" cried the elder lady from behind her veil.

"Nothing--I--oh, aunt, I--"

The words were faltered out, but the girl's movements were quick and decisive as she unfastened the door at the back of the waggonette and sprang down, the labouring men drawing right and left as she turned to the side of the hurdle.

"It is--it is!" she cried, as she bent over the pallid face and laid her hand upon d.i.c.k's forehead.

"You know him, then?" said the doctor eagerly, for his patient began to be of much greater importance in his eyes.

"Oh, yes--a little. Yes--very well," cried Miss Deane, contradicting herself.

"Anna, my dear, pray come here!"

"Yes, aunt, directly.--But, tell me quickly, is he very much hurt?"

"Very gravely, as far as I can tell after so slight an examination."

"He will not die?" she cried, with the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I hope not. I will do my best to save him."

"Yes, yes; of course. But we must not waste time. Sir, he once saved my life. Oh, pray, pray make haste!"

"Yes. Forward, my lads!"

"But where are you taking him?"

"To the nearest inn."

"Oh, no--no--no!" she cried. "He ought to be taken to where he will be properly attended."

"Yes; but it is impossible for the men to carry him all the way to Ratcham. If you would drive on and give notice at the barracks, they would send their ambulance and take him at once to the hospital."

"The hospital?" said the girl piteously.

"What a fool I am!" thought the young doctor, whose sympathies were aroused by this great display of interest; "I am throwing away an interesting patient."

"Anna, my dear, this is very dreadful!" cried Miss Deane, senior. "Let us drive on at once!"

"Yes, aunt dear--no, aunt dear! I know!" she cried excitedly. "The men could lay that wooden thing upon the seats of the carriage, and he could be driven gently right into the town."

"Anna!"

"Hush, aunt, pray!" cried the girl decisively. "Do you not see it is a case of life and death? Now, doctor, move him at once! Aunt, come down out of the carriage!"

Miss Deane, senior, uttered an indignant sob, and descended into the dusty road. Then she not only made a virtue of necessity, but felt her own sympathies aroused.

"I wish I were a soldier and had shot myself," thought the doctor, as he directed the men, and had the hurdle carefully lifted into the waggonette, where, with a little management, it rode securely enough, while the girl watched every step of the proceedings, with her fingers twitching as if she longed to help.