A torch, flashing in Peter’s face, recalled him to a moment’s consciousness. A voice asked:
“How are we going to get him up those steps, sir?”
Answered another voice: “Tote him on a blanket if we can find one, Bombardier.”
Said Peter Jameson: “That’s you, isn’t it, Henry?”
“Yes.”
“Well—all I can say is”—the words were hardly audible—“that—it’s—damn—sporting—of—you—to—have—come. . . .”
Then he fainted again: leaving Charles Henry, American Citizen, to puzzle out the exact meaning of the sentence as he had puzzled his way through the barrages on Trônes Wood.
PART TWENTY-SIXBROKEN MEN