Ferguson had scraped one of his shins while sliding down the rock after emptying his rifle at the approaching Majeronas, and the cut on his left hand pained him greatly. Hope-Jones found a black and blue spot on his right shoulder, which he could not account for until he remembered that in his excitement he had several times neglected to press his shot-gun close when firing; and a little later he discovered that the lobe of his right ear was torn.
“An arrow struck there,” said the captain, after examining the wound. “You had as narrow an escape as had Harvey.”
Then the captain looked at his own physical condition and reported that the tendons of his left ankle had been strained, and that a long powder burn on his right cheek marked where a flash had sprung upward from an imperfect cap on his old-fashioned rifle.
But of them all Harvey showed more marks of battle. A very painful black and blue spot on his side told where the foot of the Majerona had struck him after the drop from the rock, and two bruises on the back of the head marked his contact with stones on the occasions of his falling. His hands were scratched and torn in several places, but he could not tell how these minor wounds had been received until the captain remarked that he had never seen a brush-heap disappear so rapidly as when the boy pulled away branches from the opening, to make room for the bomb; and then the lad recalled that at the time he had felt the sharp prick of thorns.
Although they were refreshed after the bath, they limped more or less on their return to camp.
“Is that due to the fact that we have just seen where we have been hurt?”
“Partly that and partly because the excitement is over,” said the captain.
“It will be good to have a hot supper,” the elder American remarked, changing the subject; “but I’ll be switched if I feel much like making a fire and cooking.”
“What have we to cook, anyway? There’s not a bit of fresh meat in the camp, and I’d rather go to bed hungry than hunt for anything,” interposed Harvey.
“Well, turn in, lie down, go to sleep, or whatever you call it; but it’s going to be ‘go to bed’ for me, because I shall pile up some of that dried moss over there and make a couch.”