The fat doctor looked up surprised. This was an unusually touching incident in the rough life of a soldier. He saw the tears in the young man's honest eyes, and he understood. "Then you were great friends?" "Yes, sir. And--and--how is he now?" Rademacher looked hesitatingly down at the mortally wounded man, and answered evasively: "Well--we must wait and see." Once more he listened to the breathing, then stood up. According to his diagnosis the injured man had but a few hours to live, at the most--perhaps even only minutes. "Has he recovered consciousness at all?" he asked. "Yes, sir; but only for a very short time." The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "But what's wrong with you?" he said, turning to the bombardier. "My leg's rather queer, sir. Old Turk fell on it, and it's sprained, I suppose. But I expect you can soon put it right, sir." Rademacher removed the driver's riding-trousers with the aid of the hospital-orderly. His examination was soon over. "You have a double fracture of the thigh," he said. "But we'll soon set it for you." Sickel listened open-mouthed. "Then I shall be ready to leave when I get my discharge?" he inquired. The medical officer smiled. "No, my friend, it will take from four to six weeks." This was too much for the driver, and he grumbled loudly. He would cheerfully have been more hurt, although, as it was, he had had a narrow shave--but not to be able to get his discharge--it was hard lines indeed! Meanwhile the ambulance-orderly had put a bandage round Vogt's head. Rademacher gazed thoughtfully down on Klitzing. At last he turned away; it was a hopeless case. He sent the trumpeter, who had come with him for an ambulance-waggon. He had seen one standing in the road not far off. Restlessly he walked up and down, trying to shorten the time of waiting. Every time he passed the clerk he looked at the lips through which still came that heavy breathing. It was a perfect marvel that the man still lived. Three ribs were broken, and they had wounded the lung so severely that a violent hæmorrhage had ensued. Four stretcher-bearers came down the hill at last, carrying two stretchers. Klitzing was first placed on one of them. "Where is he to go?" asked the foremost stretcher-bearer. Rademacher considered a moment, and then answered: "Up yonder, right on the brow of the hill, there's a farm, manor-house, or something of the sort. Take him there. On my responsibility." The stretcher-bearers set out, Vogt joining them. The doctor had nodded assent to his beseeching glance. Sickel was just going to be carried away when two veterinary surgeons arrived to look after the injured horses. "Beg pardon, sir," said the driver, "but I should like so much to know what's wrong with my beast." Rademacher told the stretcher-bearers to wait. The case of the horse was diagnosed as quickly as that of the rider. The vet. raised himself and said to his colleague: "The off hind-pastern is fractured."