The Sepoys' guns
and artillery horses had been captured.
The party at once set out on their return. On their way they had
some skirmishing with the rabble of the town, who had heard the
firing, but they were beaten off without much difficulty, and the
victors re-entered the fort in triumph. The Doctor was at the gate
as they came in. Bathurst sprang from his .horse and held out his
hand. His radiant face told its own story.
"Thank God, Doctor, it has passed. I don't think my pulse went a
beat faster when the guns opened on us, and the crackle of our own
musketry had no more effect. I think it has gone forever."
"I am glad indeed, Bathurst," the Doctor said, warmly grasping his
hand. "I hoped that it might be so."
"No words can express how grateful I feel," Bathurst said. "The
cloud that shadowed my life seems lifted, and henceforth I shall
be able to look a man in the face."
"You are wounded, I see," the Doctor said.
"Yes, I had a pistol ball through my left arm. I fancy the bone is
broken, but that is of no consequence."
"A broken arm is no trifle," the Doctor said, "especially in a
climate like this. Come into the hospital at once and let me see
to it."
One of the bones of the forearm was indeed broken, and the Doctor,
having applied splints and bandages, peremptorily ordered him to
lie down. Bathurst protested that he was perfectly able to get up
with his arm in a sling.
"I know you are able," the Doctor said testily; "but if you were
to go about in this oven, we should very likely have you in a high
fever by tomorrow morning.
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