He groaned again and tried to sit up.
"Just you lie still, Herr Katzenellenbogen," said Wharton.

"You're in the hands of your friends, the enemy, but we're saving your life or rather it's been done already by the man on your left; name, John Scott; nationality, American; service, French." Captain Colton appeared and threw a white light with his own electric torch upon the little group.
"What have you there ?" he asked.
"Young German who lay groaning too near the edge of our trench," replied Carstairs.

"Scott couldn't stand it, so he went out and brought him in.
Fancy his name is Katzenellenbogen, Kaiserslautern, Hohenfriedberg, or something else short and simple." Captain Colton permitted himself a grim smile.
"Your act of mercy, Scott, does honor to you," he said, "though it's no part of your business to get yourself killed helping a wounded enemy.
Bring him round, then send him to hospital in rear." He walked on, continuing his inspection of the Strangers although sure that no other attack would be made that night, and the three young men applied themselves with renewed energy to the revival of their injured captive.

Wharton cut the uniform away from his shoulder and, after announcing that the bullet had gone entirely through, bound up the two wounds with considerable skill.

Then he gave him another but small drink out of the flask and, as they saw the color come back into his face, they felt all the pleasure of a surgeon when he sees his efforts succeed.