"Curse away, old man. It's a treat to hear you," he said heartily, "Just take a drop of this now, to keep you all there," and he held a glass of brandy and water to Desmond's lips. "They've given you a nasty wound here. Wants looking to at once. I'm going to hurt you like hell, I know; but you must put up with it. Swear at me as much as you please, if it eases you at all." He probed a peculiarly tender spot as he spoke. Desmond clenched his teeth and "put up with it" in silence. Free permission to swear had quenched the desire--a common trick of human perversity; and just as he began to feel that one minute more of it would stretch endurance to breaking-point--the thing was done. A sloping bandage encircled his head, eclipsing his right eye; and he discovered that the Colonel was standing by the doolie, tugging at his grey moustache--sure sign of mental disturbance--and listening attentively to the wiry little doctor, who spoke in an urgent undertone. He turned when Mackay left off speaking. "Bad business this, Desmond," he said laconically. "Thank God it was no worse, though." And Desmond had but two words for answer, sharp and anxious. "The Boy?" "We've lost Denvil," Buchanan growled between his teeth. "And we could very ill spare him." Desmond closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Speech was beyond him. His mind, dizzy with pain and loss of blood, refused to grasp the truth. Two hours ago the Boy had been radiantly, vigorously alive. It was rank foolishness to expect a man to believe that he would never hear him speak or laugh again. He was roused by Buchanan's hand on his arm. "Look here, Desmond," he said, "we must be moving again now. I merely came to see how things were going with you before pushing on." "Thank you, Colonel. I'm in the rear for the present, I suppose?" And he tried to smile. "Not exactly. As we are within two days' march of the station and there's little left to do but sweep up the rubbish, I have told off a strong escort to return to Kohat with the wounded men,--Denvil, and yourself. You've been badly knocked about, and you need careful seeing to at once." "Won't you leave me out of the programme, sir? You know I'm hard as nails; I'm sure I could manage to hang on to the saddle, and be fit for light duty in a few days' time. Give me the chance, anyway. I'll do my level best." "Never knew you do anything else," Buchanan answered gruffly. Then there was a short silence. Hard as he was, the man rebelled against the thing he had to say; and Desmond's unconquerable spirit put him in no better humour for his task. "My dear fellow," he began, "I'm no hand at beating about the bush; I can only tell you straight that for the present you must give up all hope of getting back to duty, light or otherwise. Mackay is not satisfied about that wound in your face. The slug went too close to the eye, and may possibly--have injured the nerve." Desmond started and clenched his hand.