He turned into a little cove,
partly sheltered by the dwarfed trees and he heard a thin voice saying:
"Nonsense, Leonidas. I scarcely felt it, but yours, old friend, is
pretty bad. You must let me attend to it. Keep still! I'll adjust the
bandage."
"Hector, why do you make a fuss over me, when I'm only slightly hurt,
and sacrifice yourself, a severely injured man!"
"With all due respect you'd better let me attend to you both," said a
voice that Harry recognized as St. Clair's.
"And maybe I could help a little," said another that he knew to be Happy
Tom's. But their voices, like those of the colonels, were weak. Still
he had positive proof that they were alive, and, as his heart gave a
joyful throb or two, he stepped into the glade. There was enough light
for him to see Colonel Leonidas Talbot, and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector
St. Hilaire, sitting side by side on the grass with their backs against
the earthly wall, very pale from loss of blood, but with heads erect and
eyes shining with a certain pride. St. Clair and Langdon lay on the
grass, one with an old handkerchief, blood-soaked, bound about his head
and the other with a bandage tightly fastened over his left shoulder.
Beyond them lay a group of soldiers.
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