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lay there, he gave me a sensation of fear
from the moment I saw him. He had been
shot through the thigh and was bleeding
a lot, and the fingers of his right hand
were also shot away, luckily for us.
Anatole gave me his leather belt and
I wound it tightly round his leg to
compress the artery whilst we were waiting for
the stretcher to bring him down. He was
quite conscious, but did not seem to
understand our French. He muttered something
in German which we could not make out,
but we thought he wanted us to raise his
head, so we lifted him up and leaned his
back against a stone. It was evidently
what he wanted, for he nodded and grinned
as we did so. I noticed that he was fumbling
about with his left hand as if in search of
something, but I could not make out what
he wanted. I was kneeling with my back
towards him, and Anatole was holding his
leg whilst I was putting on the bandage.
“The bullet passed just over my head.
He was still pointing the revolver at us when
Anatole snatched it from him. I have never
been so near death, and I must say that it
fairly took the wind out of me. I had
hardly time to realize what had happened
when another shot rang out and Anatole
let fall the smoking revolver from his hand.
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