Captain Dowden was vainly trying to converse with a German who had been
hit in the back. The bullet had passed through the lower part of his
lung, and then through the abdomen, leaving a hole through which part of
the intestine projected.

"Come along and ask him some questions," he said to me. "Don't stand
about there doing nothing--make yourself useful. Tell him he'll be well
treated--better than the English wounded are treated in Germany."

The prisoner answered in a drawling whisper:

"I never expected bad treatment--the English wounded are not treated
badly by us either."

"Aren't they! That's all he knows about it!... Ask him if he likes war."

"O God, no--war's good for the rich, not for the poor."

"I thought these Huns loved warfare--ask him if he thinks Germany will
win."

"Germany's in a bad way--Ach Gott, don't ask me any more, give me
something to stop my pain!"

"That's the retort diplomatic! Send him off to sleep--let's get the job
done."

When the man had lost consciousness, Captain Grierson, the anæsthetist,
put the chloroform bottle aside, jumped down from the stool, and