The soldier soon lay in a stupor, awaiting the end, and nothing more could be done for him.
Of the others, two Belgians with bandaged heads were playing a quiet game of ecarte in a corner of the cabin, while another with a slight wound in his leg was stretched upon a couch, reading a book.

A young French officer who had lost three fingers of his hand was cheerfully conversing with a comrade whose scalp had been torn by a bullet and who declared that in two days he would return to the front.

The others Maud found asleep in their berths or lying quietly to ease their pain.

It was remarkable, however, how little suffering was caused these men by flesh wounds, once they were properly dressed and the patients made comfortable with food and warmth and the assurance of proper care.
So it was that Maud found her duties not at all arduous this evening.
Indeed, the sympathy she felt for these brave men was so strong that it wearied her more than the actual work of nursing them.

A sip of water here, a cold compress there, the administration of medicines to keep down or prevent fever, little attentions of this character were all that were required.