"Lucky dog!" commented Fortescue. "By the way, Malcolm, I've news for you. That boxing Maori pal of yours, Te Paheka's his name, I fancy, is in the next ward. Do you know, he carried you right back to the advance dressing-station, and that you were both bowled over by a shell just the other side of Hannebeke stream? That's how you got it in the foot, and Te Paheka had a chunk taken off his shoulder. Yet he stuck to you and carried you in before he collapsed."