The surgeon in charge of the hospital
thereupon certified that this was the case, and in this way bygones
officially became bygones. It was late in the afternoon before Sam
recovered consciousness. A negro soldier, who had been detailed to
act as hospital orderly, was adjusting his bed-clothes, and Sam opened
his eyes.
"Gettin' better, Massa Jinks?" said the man, smiling his good will.
"Company Jinks, all present and accounted for," cried Sam, saluting as
if he were a first sergeant on parade.
"You're here in de hospital, Massa," said the man, who was known as
Mose; "you ain't on parade sure."
Sam looked round inquiringly.
"Is this the hospital?" he asked. "Why am I in the hospital?"
"You've been hurtin' yourself somehow," answered Mose with a low
chuckle. "There's lots of fourth-class men hurts themselves. But
you'll be all right in a week."
"In a week!" exclaimed Sam. "But I can't skip drills and everything for
a week!"
"Now, don't you worry, Massa Jinks. You're pretty lucky. We've had some
men here hurted themselves that had to go home for good, and some of
'em, two or three, never got well, and died. But bless you, you'll soon
be all right. Doctor said so."
Sam had to get what consolation he could from this. His memory began to
come back, and he recalled the beginning of the hazing.
"Is Cadet Cleary in the hospital?" he asked.
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