As they neared the camp, a messenger was sent down with a report from the native officer of what had happened; and the Pioneers all came out to see their favourite officer brought in; and stood, mournful and silent, as he was carried to his bungalow.
"Don't come in yet, lad," the surgeon said, to Lisle.

"Your father, at present, is incapable of speaking; and he must have a little rest before you see him, for the slightest excitement would probably cause a gush of blood to the wound, which would be fatal." Lisle's grief was unbounded.

He could not listen to the kind words with which the officers tried to soothe him, but wandered away out of camp and, throwing himself down, wept unrestrainedly for an hour.

Then he roused himself, and walked slowly back.

By a mighty effort he had composed himself, for he knew that he must be calm when he saw his father.
Half an hour later, the doctor beckoned him in.
"He is conscious now," he said, "and has whispered that he wishes to see you.