Nick dosed me and fed me. I had asked no questions; but my mind had become sullen and busy; and now I was groping backward and searching memory to find the time and place when I had lost touch with the world and with the business which had brought me into these parts. All was clearly linked up to the time that Balty shot me. Afterward, only fragments of the chain of events remained in my memory. I heard again the thud of Balty's body on the puncheon floor, when Luysnes cut him down from the rafters of Howell's house. I remember that I saw men take ditch-spades to bury the dead. I remember that my body seemed all afire and that I became enraged and forbade them to take me to Summer House. Further--and of the blank spaces between--I had no recollection save that the whole world seemed burning up in darkness and that my body was being consumed like a fagot in some hellish conflagration, where the flames were black and gave no light. This day Dr. Thatcher and Nick washed me and closed my wounds. There had been, it appeared, some drains left in them. The stiff harness on my ribs they left untouched. I breathed, now, without any pain, but itched most damnably. My closed wounds itched. I desired broth no longer and demanded meat. But got none and swore at Nick. A barber from the Continental camp arrived to trim me. He took a beard from me that amazed me, and enough hair to awake the envy of a school-girl--for I refused to wear a queue, and bade him trim my pol à la Coureur-du-Bois. Now this barber, who was a private soldier, seemed willing to gossip; and of him I asked my first questions concerning the outside world and train of events. But I soon perceived that all he knew was the veriest camp gossip, and that his budget of rumours and reports was of no value whatever. For he said that our armies were everywhere victorious; that the British armies were on the run; and that the war would be over in another month. Everybody, quoth he, would become rich and happy, with General Washington for our King, and every general a duke or marquis, and every soldier a landed proprietor, with nothing to do save sit on his porch, smoke his pipe, and watch his slaves plow his broad acres. When this sorry ass took his leave, I had long since ceased to listen to him. I felt very well, except for the accursed itching where my flesh was mending, and rib-bones knitting. Dr. Thatcher came in. He was booted, spurred, wore pistols and sword, and a military foot-mantle. When he caught my eyes he smiled slightly and asked me how I did. And I expressed my gratitude as suitably as I knew how, saying that I was well and desired to rise and be about my business. "In two weeks," he said, which took me aback. "Do you know how long you have been here?" he asked, amused. "Some three or four days, I suppose. "A month today, Mr. Drogue." This stunned me. He seated himself on the camp-stool beside my trundle-bed.