At that moment the sniper got him in the leg,
but he held to until he repaired it, and was in touch with headquarters,
reporting that he had mended the break, when the wire was again cut. The
bleeding from his wound now made it necessary for him to mend that break
first, and he bandaged it as quickly as his nervous fingers would work.
Again he took hold of the wire, crawling and stumbling along until he
again came to the break, and again mended it. He was being closely
watched now, as the bullets were whistling about him ceaselessly. Again
he turned his attention to his wound, adjusting the bandage, and he
noticed a British soldier crawling toward him on his hands and knees.
"Hello, matey, what you doing out here?" he asked.
"I'm mendin' me bloomin' leg now," Butler answered.
"Well, if you hadn't been out here you wouldn't have got it. Why didn't
you stay in your trenches?"
"Someone's got to repair the wire," said Butler. He was growing
perceptibly weaker from the loss of blood.
"Oh, repairing the wire, were you? Well, don't repair any more"--and
Butler had just time to see him level his revolver and then he dropped
unconscious.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109