Our Soldier Boy Part 5

And at last, utterly wearied out, sleep came to the boy as well, and he lay dreaming there, keeping what might have been the chill of death from a brave man's breast, till the sun rose again and was beating down warmly upon the back of d.i.c.k's head, when he opened his eyes to stare wonderingly at the stained and blackened face so close to his.

d.i.c.k did not dare to stir for fear of awakening the Colonel again: but he was not asleep, for after a time he opened his eyes and smiled pleasantly.

"The fortune of war, little comrade," he said.

"Yes, sir," said d.i.c.k, and he stared at him, wondering that the stern, fierce officer who ordered the men about so could look so pleasant.

"That's right," said the Colonel: "we have been successful many times.

But let's see, d.i.c.k, you were brought into camp wounded."

"Yes," said d.i.c.k. "My head was very bad."

"Of course. I remember all about it. How was it you were injured?"

d.i.c.k shook the head that had been hurt.

"You don't know? But you speak well. Who are your father and mother?"

"Corporal Beane and Mrs Corporal."

The Colonel looked at the boy curiously.

"Yes," he said at last: "so I remember hearing. Well, d.i.c.k, you were wounded, and we helped you: now it is my turn and you have helped me."

"Yes," said d.i.c.k.

"I am thirsty, my boy: will you fetch me some water?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, seizing the tin.

"But look carefully round: the enemy may be holding the ground."

"Would they kill us if they saw us, sir?"

"I hope not, boy: but if I can bear my wounds I'll keep in hiding, for my brave lads must make an effort to find us soon."

"I'll mind," said d.i.c.k, and he took a long look round, and then crept on hands and knees to the spring, looked at it longingly, but forebore to drink, and filling the tin he bore it to the Colonel, who lay just as he had left him.

"Can you lift my head, boy?" he said. "Set down the tin."

Not an easy thing to do without spilling the water, but d.i.c.k succeeded, and then managed with the Colonel's help to raise him a little so that he could reach the water, of which he drank with avidity and was once more lowered back, to lie faint and giddy for a few minutes, but he recovered soon and said he was better, speaking so freely and kindly to the boy that d.i.c.k took courage.

"I say," he said: "you've got such a dirty face."

"Have I, d.i.c.k?" said the Colonel, smiling. "Yes, it's all over gunpowder, and all b.l.o.o.d.y. Shall I wash it?"

"Please, d.i.c.k, my boy," said the Colonel, and d.i.c.k took the tin to the spring as carefully as before, after looking up and down the great ravine, filled it, and this time had a good draught himself, and felt hungry as he took the refilled tin back, set it down by the Colonel's head, and then began to purse up his lips and think what he should do.

He was not long making up his mind, and tearing the lining out of his damaged sleeve to soak in the water and use for a sponge.

"But I haven't a towel," he said.

"There's a clean handkerchief in the breast pocket of my coat," said the Colonel, smiling. "Take it out."

"That hurt you?" said d.i.c.k, after unb.u.t.toning the uniform and taking out the carefully folded handkerchief just as Mrs Corporal Beane had brought it to him from the wash.

"Yes, but not very much," said the Colonel. "Go on, it will be cool and refres.h.i.+ng."

He was in great pain, but he lay smiling with a very kindly, fatherly look at the clever little fellow, as d.i.c.k carefully washed away the stains, having to go over the officer's face twice before it was quite clean, after which he dried it, and knelt there looking at the bright sword which was hanging by its golden knot to the Colonel's right arm.

"Shall I take that off before I wash your hands?" The Colonel nodded and smiled in the same fatherly way as the boy unloosed the sword-knot, laid the weapon close by and then washed and dried the wounded man's hands.

"I say," said d.i.c.k then, "I can tear this handkerchief when it's dry.

Shall I tie up your cuts?"

"No," said the Colonel sadly: "they must wait till the Doctor comes, d.i.c.k, if he ever does. They are not cuts, my boy, but bullet-holes, and they have ceased to bleed. Now what is to be done next?"

"Get up, and let's find the men."

"No, boy," said the Colonel sadly. "I could not move. We must wait.

But you are hungry. Were there any rations on the mule?"

"No," said d.i.c.k, shaking his head: "they were on the other mule. We must wait: but I am so hungry. Aren't you?"

"No," said the Colonel sadly, and his eyes wandered round, but he looked in vain. They were in a wild ravine, and not so much as a berry was in sight.

"We must wait, d.i.c.k," he said at last. "Surely they will come in search of us soon."

CHAPTER SIX.

The sun shone down hotter and hotter, and all was still but the twittering of a bird at times. d.i.c.k took the blanket he had wrapped about him overnight and spread it over two pieces of rock so as to form a screen, propping it a little with a broken bough or two. So long as he was busy doing little things for the Colonel, d.i.c.k did not seem to mind so much, but just when the sun was highest and it was hotter than ever in the valley, the poor Colonel grew more feverish. He asked for water often, and then all at once the boy felt frightened, for the wounded man began to talk and mutter wildly: then he began to shout to his men to come on and charge, and at last poor d.i.c.k broke down.

Hunger, misery, loneliness and the heat, were too much for him: the wild nature of the Colonel's words, and his fierce look when he felt for and waved his sword, making the little fellow shrink away and go and sit behind a stone, his head aching, and the terrible solitude there amongst the mountains seeming more than he could bear.

But as the evening came on and a soft breeze sprang up, a change came over the wounded man, and d.i.c.k heard himself called.

He crept back to the Colonel's side, and the wounded man took his hand, and he said, "Can you be brave and strong?"

"No, sir," faltered the boy, with his lip quivering, "but I'll try to be."

"That is being brave, my boy. Now look here, I have been asleep, and dreaming wild things, but I am cool and calm now. Listen to me. You are faint and hungry, and you must not stay here any longer. You must go."

"But I can't leave you all alone, sir."

"You must, my boy. Here is what I want you to do. Throw the blanket over me and fill the tin with water."

The boy did this and felt better, for it kept off the feeling of misery.