"You are well taught in first aid to the wounded," he said. "Where did you learn?"
"My father was Dr. Loomis, of the army," she answered, simply. "He taught me when I was quite a child. He died, as I think perhaps you know."
"We all knew him, Miss Loomis," was the instant reply. "Even those who never met him, personally, knew him as I did,--for his devotion to our poor fellows in the fever epidemic. And your mother?"
"Mother has been dead for years. I am alone now, but for my cousin Margaret,--Mrs. Cranston. I am her companion."
And the captain, himself aging in the service, and with daughters who might be left as was this girl,--penniless,--understood, and bowed in silent sympathy. It was the sight of the gash in Brannan's fist that called him back to the business before him.
"How did you get that?" he asked, with professional brevity, little liking it--soldier bred as he was--that one of the new flock should thus be parcelled out from his fellows and transported in a Pullman.
"Climbing through the window of the saloon I--cut it, sir," was the answer.
"Yes--_there_ perhaps," said Tibbetts, indicating the smaller gash, "but this one,--clean cut like a knife. Whose knife?"
Whereat Brannan looked confused and troubled. "I don't know, sir," he finally said.
"I believe you do know, and that you got it in that saloon row. A pretty thing for a man like you to be mixed in."
Whereat Brannan reddened still more, and looked as though he wanted to speak yet feared to say. It was Miss Loomis who promptly took the word.
"Indeed, captain, you don't understand. He was ordered in. He was handling the hose pipe--the very first--with Mr. Davies." And here she turned as though to seek the other pipeman, while Tibbetts effusively--impulsively--began to make amends.
"Well--well--well," said he. "That's a totally different matter. You got your wound in a good cause, sir, and if I could find out who tried to knife you, he'd repent it this night. Are you sure you don't know?"
"I don't think anybody tried to cut me, sir," was the answer, after a pause.
But this Brannan wouldn't answer, and the captain, after a moment's thought, went lurching through the grimy, swaying cars, hunted up the two damaged recruits and gruffly bade them follow him. Davies looked up gratefully as they entered the sleeping-car, but the captain did not notice him. "I have reconsidered," said he, "and brought these patients to you, Miss Loomis," then turned abruptly away. It was the subaltern who aided, and then who thanked the skilful, light-handed nurse, for the poor fellows seemed both abashed and humbled. One of them, looking furtively about, had caught sight of Brannan, sitting alone in a section with his bandaged hand. Quick glance of recognition was exchanged. There was an instant of question in the new-comer's eye. It was answered by the corporal, who raised two fingers to his compressed lips one second, then let them fall. But Davies saw,--saw also that when told by the captain they might remain there in the roomier, cooler sleeper for a time, the younger and more intelligent-looking of the two dropped into the seat by Brannan's side. They chatted in low tone together, as the night came on, their lips moving and their ears attent even though their heads were turned apart,--communing as men commune who do not wish to be thought in conversation.