No more hunting for me, sir.

I've got it here in the stomach.

Oh, my God!" He let his head fall with a thud on the floor.
I ran and raised him.

Kneeling on one knee, I propped his head against my leg.
"Tell us about it," commanded Sapt in a curt, crisp voice while I got the man into the easiest position that I could contrive.
In slow, struggling tones he began his story, repeating here, omitting there, often confusing the order of his narrative, oftener still arresting it while he waited for fresh strength.

Yet we were not impatient, but heard without a thought of time.