The American laid the soldier down on one of the beds, and hurried to
one of the doctors.

"Saw this youngster dragging this man on a sort of stretcher hitched to
a goat," he said. "He's pretty bad. Better look at him."

The doctor nodded. Lucia stood beside her soldier and waited. She was
almost afraid of what the doctor would say. He leaned over him and
began taking off his muddy uniform, while the American helped. When he
had examined the wound, he hurried over to a table and came back with a
queer looking instrument. To Lucia it looked like a small bottle
attached to a very long needle.

"Don't, don't, you are cruel!" she protested, as he pushed it slowly
into the soldier. She put out her hand angrily, but the American
pulled her back.

"It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's to make him well."

Lucia shook her head, and the doctor turned to her. He spoke excellent
Italian.

"It is to save his life, child, and it doesn't hurt him, I promise you.
Now tell me, where did you find him?"

Lucia explained hurriedly. The story, as it came from her excited
lips, sounded like some wild, distorted dream. The doctor called to
Sister Francesca.

"Is this child telling me the truth?" he asked wonderingly.