tell you that one of
them had particularly wished to be brought up to your ambulance, and as
the others all belonged to the same corps I was to leave them here."

"I will see if there is room," the doctor said, and calling one of the
gentlemen who aided in the service of the ambulance, asked him, "Do you
know, Wilson, how many have died in the night?"

"Eight or ten, Doctor."

"Well, get Phillips and Grant to help you to carry out six of them; lay
them in that empty tent for the present. As soon as you have done that
bring the six wounded in from the wagon outside."

In a few minutes the injured men were brought in.

"Ah, they are Franc-tireurs," the doctor said.

"They are Franc-tireurs des Ecoles," the orderly, who had accompanied
them, said; "the surgeon said they were all students. They deserve good
treatment, Doctor, for no men could have fought better than they did.
Everyone says that they saved Champigny."

"Put them together, Wilson, if you can, or at any rate in pairs. They
are students of the University, the art schools, and so on. If there are
not two empty beds together put them anywhere for the present; we can
shift the beds about in a day or two when we get breathing-time."

"There are two vacant beds in No. 2 marque, Doctor."

The doctor stepped to the litter that had just been carried in. Its
occupant was sensible.

"Is there any one of your comrades you would prefer to be placed in the
bed next to you?" he asked in French.

"Yes, Doctor," he replied in English. "The tall fellow who was next to
me in the wagon. I am a countryman of yours, and he is an Englishman,
and we are in the same art school."

"An American?" Dr. Swinburne replied. "I am glad, indeed, they brought
you here. You may be sure that we will do everything we can to make you
comfortable. I will attend to you directly I have seen the others
brought in."

Mary Brander's heart gave a bound as she saw the wounded man brought in,
for she recognized the uniform at once. A glance, however, at the dark
head reassured her. As soon as the stretcher was laid down by the bed
which-was the last in the line, and the wounded man was lifted on to it
she went as usual with a glass of weak spirits and water to his side.

"Will you drink, monsieur," she asked, in French.

"I am an American," he said, with a faint smile, "as I suppose you are."

"No, I am English, which is nearly the same thing."

"I must trouble you to hold it to my lips