In the smoke-cloud that covered their retreat from the corralled waggons--afterwards in the sombre shadow of the chine, and the obscurity of the cave, he had not observed what now, in the bright glare of the sunlight, is too plainly apparent--that the nether garments of his comrade are saturated with blood.
Hamersley has scarce noticed it himself, and his attention is now called to it, less from perceiving any acute pain than that he begins to feel faint and feeble.

Blood is oozing through the breast of his shirt, running down the legs of his trousers, and on into his boots.

And the fountain from which it proceeds is fast disclosing itself by an aching pain in his side, which increases as he strides on.
A moment's pause to examine it.

When the vest and shirt are opened it is seen that a bullet has passed through his left side, causing only a flesh wound, but cutting an artery in its course.

Scratched and torn in several other places, for the time equally painful, he had not yet perceived this more serious injury.
It is not mortal, nor likely to prove so.