ugh the broad, high
doorway, they gazed at a slowly-increasing stain which came out upon the
scarlet tunic hard by the blackened dried-up patch there at the side.

For the movement had started the wound bleeding afresh, and a bit of
experience when a fellow-labourer had his arm crushed in a
threshing-machine years before had taught the speaker that where
bleeding continues there must be life still left in the sufferer's
veins.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

A GOOD GENIUS.

They were a very ignorant rustic lot these poor farm labourers, but they
knew that certain things were now necessary, and Joey, taking the lead
as they waited for the help of the surgeon, gave the orders, which were
executed at once.

One man seized a clean bucket, and trotted off down the hill to where in
the bottom there was a dark dipping place in the lonely narrow stream,
and while he was fetching the clear cold water the leader carefully
unfastened the tunic.

"Sharpest knife, one o' you," said Joey, and after a little comparison
of blades, most of which were ground more or less on their owner's
clumsy boots, he selected one, and carefully slit open the shirt and,
cutting away enough to form a pad, he pressed it down upon the wound and
checked the bleeding.

"Ought to be tied up," he muttered; "but 'tain't like a cut finger: you
can't turn him about. We'll wait till doctor comes."

"Won't yer wash it?" said Smiler, with a grin.

"Nay, doctor 'll do that if it's right; we'll try and give him a drink
when the water comes, and bathe his face. What did he go and do that
for?"

"Think he did?" said Smiler.

"Why, o' course," said another. "Hadn't he got the pistol lying in his
fist?"

"Ay," said Joey. "I s'pose some on 'em ain't very comf'able with them
drill-sergeants--shoots theirselves in barracks sometimes. Yer see,
when a man 'lists, he can't pitch it up again and say `I've had enough
of this.'"

"No, they're 'bliged to stick to it," said Smiler, "'less someun buys
'em out. I dunno, though, but what I'd ha' liked to be a sojer; it's
better than spendin' all yer life in a hop-garden, spuddin' and poling
and hoeing."

"You!" said Joey, "you a sojer, Smiler?"

"Well, why not? Course, I know my back's a bit twisted, but it would
ha' been right enough if I'd been drilled."

"They'd ha' had to drill something else beside your legs and wings,
Smiler," said Joey, giving his companions a queer look.

"Eh? What?"

"That mug o