In ten minutes my men can have these scratches dressed
and bound--in fact, there is a surgical student among them, poor
fellow. I think I am his first patient. Ravone, attend me."
He threw himself upon the ground and calmly placed his head upon the
body of the animal.
"I insist upon your taking these cushions," cried Beverly.
"And I decline irrevocably." She stared at him in positive anger. "Trust
Ravone to dress these trifling wounds, your highness. He may not be as
gentle, but he is as firm as any princess in all the world."
"But your arm?" she cried. "Didn't you say it was your legs? Your arm is
covered with blood, too. Oh, dear me, I'm afraid you are frightfully
wounded,"
"A stray bullet from one of my men struck me there, I think. You know
there was but little time for aiming--?"
"Wait! Let me think a minute! Good heavens!" she exclaimed with a
start. Her eyes were suddenly filled with tears and there was a break in
her voice. "I shot you! Don't deny it--don't! It is the right arm, and
your men could not have hit it from where they stood. Oh, oh, oh!"
Baldos smiled as he bared his arm. "Your aim was good," he
admitted. "Had not my knife already been in the lion's heart, your
bullet would have gone there. It is my misfortune that my arm was in the
way. Besides, your highness, it has only cut through the skin--and a
little below, perhaps.
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