“Well, you start splinting that right leg on to the left and stiffen the knees with something (you’ll probably be able to get a decent stick or two off that small tree), and shove the arm inside his leather legging. We’ve two pairs of putties you can bandage with, and there are _puggries_ on all three _topis_. Probably his gun’s somewhere about, for another leg-splint, too. I’ll get down to the machine for the cord and then I’ll skirmish around for anything in the nature of poles or planks. I can get over to that hut and back before you’ve done. It’ll be the camelling that’ll kill him.” At the distant building the Colonel found an abandoned broken-wheeled bullock-cart, from which he looted the bottom-boards, which were planks six feet long, laid upon, but not fastened to, the framework of the body of the cart. From the compound of the place (an ancient and rarely-visited dak-bungalow, probably the most outlying and deserted in India) he procured a bamboo pole that had once supported a lamp, the long leg-rests of an old chair, and two or three sticks, more or less serviceable for his purpose. Returning to the camel, he ascended to where his passenger and pupil awaited him. Over his shoulder he bore the planks, pole and sticks that the contemptuous but invaluable camel had borne to a point a few yards below the scene of the tragedy. “Good egg,” observed the younger man. “We’ll do him up in those like a mummy.” “Yes,” returned the Colonel, “then carry him to the oont and bind him along one side of the saddle, and then lead the beast down. Easily sling him on to the machine, and there we are. Lucky we’ve got the coil of cord. Fine demonstration for the Kot Ghazi fellers! Show that the thing can be done, even without the proper kind of ’plane and surgical outfit. What luck we spotted him—or that he fell just in our return track!” “Doubtless he was born to that end,” observed the Captain, who was apt to get a little peevish when hungry and tired. And when the Army Aeroplane _Hawk_ returned from its “ground-scouring for casualties” trip, lo, it bore, beneath and beside the pilot and passenger, a real casualty slung in a kind of crude coffin-cradle of planks and poles, a casualty in whose recovery the Colonel took the very deepest interest, for was he not a heaven-sent case, born to the end that he might be smashed to demonstrate the Colonel’s theories? But no credit was given to the vultures, without whom the “casualty” would never have been found. CHAPTER XIII. FOUND. Colonel John Decies, I.M.S. (retired), visiting the Kot Ghazi Station Hospital, whereof his friend and pupil, Captain Digby-Soames, was Commandant, scanned the temperature chart of the unknown, the desperately injured “case,” retrieved by his beloved flying-machine, who, judging by his utterances in delirium, appeared to be even worse damaged in spirit than he was in body.