"
So Ralph had found it. He had drunk very sparingly on the way,
scarcely permitting himself to do more than to wet his lips; but when
he set about the work of collecting the wounded, he felt more than
amply rewarded for his little self-sacrifice by the grateful thanks of
the poor fellows to whom he was able to give a mouthful of his hoarded
store. It was not until his return to the bivouac, after his hour's
turn of duty, that he learned the extent of the loss of the regiment.
He knew by the smallness of the number who mustered for the search how
much his own company had suffered, and in the brief intervals in the
struggle he had heard something of what was doing elsewhere.
Lieutenant Desmond had fallen early in the fight, shot through the
heart as the light companies went out to oppose the French
skirmishers. Captain O'Connor had received a lance wound through his
arm; but had made a sling of his sash, and had kept his place at the
head of his company.
The officers were all gathered round a fire when Ralph returned to the
bivouac.
"I see you have your arm in a sling, O'Connor," he said. "Nothing
serious, I hope?"
"No, I think not; but it's confoundedly painful. It was a French
lancer did it. Fortunately one of the men bayoneted him at the very
instant he struck me, and it was only the head of the lance that went
through my arm.
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