“We have got the ----s so that they can't move a foot, and we'll hold them, unless they bring up a lot of reserves.”
“I say,” said Duff, brushing aside the compliment, “did young Pickles get through? That young devil is the limit. You'd have thought he was hunting coyotes.”
“Yes, he got through. Got a blighty though, I guess. It was he that told me about McCuaig.”
“Well, Pilot, old man,” said Duff, taking him by the arm, “get out! Get out! Don't waste time. There may be a break any minute. Get out of here.”
Duff was evidently in a fever of anxiety. “You had no right to come up here anyway; though, by Jove, I'm glad to see you.”
“What's the fuss, Duff?” said Barry. “Am I in any more danger than you? I say,” he continued, with tense enthusiasm, “do you realise, Duff, that as long as Canada lasts they will talk of what you are doing up here these days?”
“For Heaven's sake, Pilot, get out,” said Duff crossly. “You make me nervous. Besides, you have got to get that wounded man out, you know. Come along.”
He hustled Barry out and over to the neighbouring dugout, where they found McCuaig with his beloved machine gun still at his side. The wounded man was very pale, but extremely cheerful, smoking a cigarette.
“I'm glad to see you, sir,” he said quietly, reaching out his hand.
“Good old man,” said Barry, gripping his hand hard, “but you are a blamed old fool, you know.”
McCuaig made no reply, but there was a happy light on his face. Under Duff's compelling urging they got the wounded man on a stretcher and started on their long and painful carry.
“Now, boys,” warned Duff, “you are all right up here, except for machine guns, but don't take any chances further out. That's where the danger is. When the shells come, don't rush things. Take your time. Now, good-bye, Pilot, it's worth a lot to have seen you anyway.”
“Good-bye, old man,” said Barry, smiling at him. “You're the stuff. Good luck, old man. God keep you.”
Duff nodded, and waved him away. The return trip was made in comparative quiet.
“What do you think, doctor?” said Barry, after the M. O. had completed his examination.
“Oh, we'll pull him through all right,” said the M. O. “When did you get this, McCuaig?” he continued, touching a small wound over the kidney.