The deft hands moved on, and touched the wound, made by a bullet that had passed entirely through his shoulder.

Paul had fainted from loss of blood, and without the coming of help would surely have been dead in another hour.
The boy lay on his side, and, in some convulsion as he lost consciousness, he had drawn his arm about his head.

Henry turned him over until the cold reviving rain fell full upon his face, and then, raising himself again, he listened intently.

The battle was still moving on to the southward, but very slowly, and stray warriors might yet pass and see them.

The tie of friendship is strong, and as he had come to save Paul and as he had found him too, he did not mean to be stopped now.
He stooped down and chafed the wounded youth's wrists and temples, while the rain with its vivifying touch still drove upon his face.