"
Malcolm, unable to rise, lifted his arm and held it erect to call
the attention of the searchers; it was quickly observed.
"There is some one still alive," the soldier exclaimed, "an officer,
too; by his scarf and feathers he belongs to the Green Brigade."
"These Scotchmen are as hard as iron," another voice said; "come,
bring a stretcher along."
They were soon by the side of Malcolm.
"Drink this, sir," one said, kneeling beside him and placing a flask
of spirits to his lips; "that will warm your blood, I warrant, and
you must be well nigh frozen."
Malcolm took a few gulps at the potent liquor, then he had strength
to say:
"There is something the matter with my left arm, I can't move it,
and I think I am hit in the body."
"You are hit in the body, sure enough," the man said, "for there
is a bullet hole through your cuirass, and your jerkin below it
is all stained with blood. You have been hit in the left arm too,
and the blood is frozen to the ground; but we will soon free that
for you. But before trying to do that we will cut open the sleeve
of your jerkin and bandage your arm, or the movement may set it
off bleeding again, and you have lost a pool of blood already."
Very carefully the soldiers did their work, and then placing Malcolm
on the stretcher carried him away to the camp. Here the surgeons
were all hard at work attending to the wounded who were brought
in.
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