"
"Then if we strike at all we must strike quickly. I think we're going to
strike."
Lannes was silent, and they entered the tent, where blankets were spread
for him. A surgeon, young and skillful, came promptly, carefully removed
the cap and bound up his head. John stood by and handed the surgeon the
bandages.
"You're not much hurt," he said to Lannes as he finished. "Your chief
injury was shock, and that has passed. I can keep down the fever and
you'll be ready for work very soon. The high powered bullet makes a
small and clean wound. It tears scarcely at all. Nor will your beauty be
spoiled in the slightest, young sir. Both orifices are under the full
thickness of your hair."
"I'm grateful for all your assurances," said Lannes, his old indomitable
smile appearing in his eyes, "but you'll have to cure me fast, faster
than you ever cured anybody before, because I'm a flying man, and I fly
again tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow. In two or three days, perhaps--"
"Yes, tomorrow, I tell you! Nothing can keep me from it! This army will
march tonight! I know it! and do you think such a wound as this can keep
me here, when the fate of Europe is being decided? I'd rise from these
blankets and go with the army even if I knew that it would make me fall
dead the next day!"
He spoke with such fierce energy that the surgeon who at first sternly
forbade, looked doubtful and then acquiescent.
"Go, then," he said, "if you can.
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