Gys was smiling broadly--a rather ghastly expression.
"No bones broken, sir," he reported to Mr.Merrick.

"Only a good shake-up and plenty of bruises.

He can't be induced to stay in bed." "Bed, when the Germans come ?" exclaimed the invalid, scornfully, speaking in fair English.

"It is absurd! We can sleep when we have driven them back to their dirty Faderland--we can sleep, then, and rest.
Now, it is a crime to rest." They looked at him curiously.

He was a small man--almost a tiny man--lean and sinewy and with cheeks the color of bronze and eyes the hue of the sky.