Ken, whose shoulder felt quite numb, followed, and a moment later
all three tumbled safely back into the trench.
Roy laid Dave down gently on the ground.
'Afraid he's got it bad,' he whispered, as he pointed to an ugly stain on
the back of Dave's tunic. 'We must get the doctor as soon as we can.'
'Let's see if we can't stop that bleeding. The doctor's full up with
work.' As Ken spoke, he bent down and began stripping off Dave's uniform,
so as to get at the wound.
Tunic and shirt were both sodden with blood. Ken's heart sank. It looked
as if his chum must have been shot clean through the body.
'He's bleeding like a pig,' muttered Roy, as he unwound a bandage.
By this time Ken had bared Dave's back, and with a handkerchief mopped
away the blood.
'Well, I'm blessed!' he exclaimed. 'Look at that!'
The two stared, for instead of the blue-edged puncture which a bullet
makes as it enters, there was nothing but a shallow cut about three inches
long.
'I see,' said Ken suddenly.
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