It took me a few minutes to find a basin that night, and while I looked about I must have caught a chill, for the following day I had a relapse. I had been rather upset, too, by the death of the typhoid patient in the bed next to mine. His old mother came with his father that afternoon, and their distress was heartrending to witness. "They have taken my boy, they have killed him," the poor mother kept repeating; complaining bitterly that she had not been informed of his illness till too late. Two days later, early in the morning, as luck would have it, none other than Piatte was brought into the hospital; he was carried on a stretcher, and carefully laid in the vacant bed next to mine. "You see, old chap," he said, "I would not leave my chum Decle, so here I am." "What is the matter with you?" I asked. "Oh, broken leg, that is all." The two cavalry and infantry doctors then arrived, and Piatte was questioned as to the way in which the accident occurred. "It's a beast of a charger that's kicked me in the stables," he told the doctor. He was carefully examined, and the doctors found that he had broken his leg below the knee. The limb was set, and although the poor fellow must have suffered dreadfully, beads of perspiration running down his face during the process, he did not utter a single complaint. Dr. Lesage remained near him after the others had retired, and told him that he would soon be all right. "Ah, that's nothing, sir," said Piatte; "but look here, sir, I'll tell you what: if you would like to do me a great favour you would come and look after me yourself. _You_ can do anything you like to me, but I do not want that other infantry doctor to mess about with me." Dr. Lesage promised that he would attend him, and before retiring held out his hand to the injured man. This evidently went to the poor chap's heart, and his eyes moistened. "Thank you, sir," he said; "thank you. It is good of you to shake hands with me--a bad character as they make me out. If the officers were all like you, why I would jump into the fire for them--and mind you, sir, I won't forget it." Dr. Lesage retired, more moved than he liked to show. When he had gone, I asked Piatte how he felt. "A bit queer," he said; "but you don't know, old chap, how well I worked it. I thought I had killed myself, you know." "Weren't you kicked?" I queried.