John ran his hand along his arm and shoulder, and felt cold thick blood, clotting his sleeve.

But he was yet alive, because he groaned again, and John believed from the quality of his voice that he was very young.

The hurt was in the shoulder and the loss of blood had been great.
He knelt beside the wounded lad and spoke to him in English and French, and in German that he had learned recently.

A faint reply came; but it was too low for him to understand.

Then he knelt in the snow beside him and was just barely able to see that he had a blond youth younger than himself.