He therefore held himself aloof
from his former acquaintances.
From the moment that Harry Blount had fallen by his side, Jolivet had
not ceased his attentions to him. During the journey from Kolyvan
to the camp--that is to say, for several hours--Blount, by leaning on his
companion's arm, had been enabled to follow the rest of the prisoners.
He tried to make known that he was a British subject; but it had no effect
on the barbarians, who only replied by prods with a lance or sword.
The correspondent of the Daily Telegraph was, therefore, obliged to submit
to the common lot, resolving to protest later, and obtain satisfaction
for such treatment. But the journey was not the less disagreeable to him,
for his wound caused him much pain, and without Alcide Jolivet's
assistance he might never have reached the camp.
Jolivet, whose practical philosophy never abandoned him, had physically
and morally strengthened his companion by every means in his power.
His first care, when they found themselves definitely established
in the enclosure, was to examine Blount's wound. Having managed
carefully to draw off his coat, he found that the shoulder had been
only grazed by the shot.
"This is nothing," he said. "A mere scratch! After two or three
dressings you will be all to rights."
"But these dressings?" asked Blount.
"I will make them for you myself."
"Then you are something of a doctor?"
"All Frenchmen are something of doctors.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209