They
fell upon Buck, on whom the full light happened to shine brightly.
"Buck -- there's Buck!" gasped the wounded observer. "Where'd he come
from?"
At this instant Vella, happening to glance up, saw Buck's pallid face
as it rested on the arm of one of his supporters who was helping to
place him on the ready cot. She gave a convulsive gasp, seized Andra
by the arm and pushed forward, hardly sensible of where she was, but
only that this youth from the State next to her own was apparently
fatally stricken.
"Stay with me, Andra," she murmured. "I may faint. I don't want to
say! Is he alive? Oh, Andra; does he live?"
Fully alive to the peculiar exigencies of the situation, and deeply
sympathizing with Avella, Andra clung to and supported her sister until
both were themselves again. Thereafter they watched, helped when they
could, and as a rule kept as quiet as mice. It was really a ticklish
situation for two young girls, both among the elite of official society
in Washington, though transferred of their own volition to strange
scenes and duties in this foreign land. Sisterly always, they now
clung together more than usual.
"Is -- is poor Buck dead?" asked Stanley, gaining strength with each
word. "He left us to raid some more Boches and -- and get help."
"The young man is all right." This from the surgeon who had just
finished his examination.
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