1st July; A thief in the night

Now here came the captain's toady, Jack noticed. His scowl deepened and he curled his wounded hand into a loose fist. Which, of course, only made the two bite holes bleed more. These stupid soft 60th boys...

There was a soft, half-stifled curse from Burke as the Irishman inspected his own damage. How badly the dog had gotten him wasn't yet known. Or maybe it was, for Burke groaned something about his shoe. His shoe.

"Bloody luvvly," Jack muttered, mostly to himself. This lot had a dog hanging about with it who liked going after a Rifleman's most important body parts.

Cotton wondered just why the dog was going for people in the middle of the night. It wasn't the sort of thing he expected animals to do, though it wouldn't surprise him if Kirridge had kicked out at the dog before being bitten, and then lied to the Lieutenant to cover himself.

"You all right, Burke?" he asked, glancing over to the ex-Sweep.

"Grand," said Burke after a moment. "I've got two new holes in me shoe is all." There was a pause, then, " 'E bit somebody else?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Aye. Me." But he'd gotten the four-legged devil back for it, right enough.

~



The lantern in Mister Brady's hand provided a suitable beacon for Mayden to trot toward, the sleepy-eyed surgeon in tow.

"Surgeon, sir," he reported, coming to a halt and saluting. Behind him, Mister Todd blinked, hesitated, then lifted his own lantern so he could see the faces of the men around him.

"Ah." Brady lifted the lantern a little higher. "We have two Riflemen who have been bitten by a dog. I don't think either of them are seriously hurt, but i will defer to your greater skill." He glanced towards Cotton and back again. "If you need anything, I am sure Cotton can provide it. I have Rounds to do, but shall leave the lantern for you."

"Of course." Mister Todd accepted the lantern and promptly handed it off to Mayden. The sawbones had spotted Jack and was moving toward him with a slight frown creasing his brow.

There was a rustle of wool as Burke shrugged. "I ain't hurt, sir."

"Me either," said Jack flatly.

With two lanterns at his disposal, Mister Todd was able to see nearly properly. He grabbed hold of Jack's wounded hand before the Londoner could avoid him and stripped the makeshift bandage away. "Indeed," the sawbones remarked in an irritated tone.

Cotton turned to ask if the surgeon needed him for anything, and noticed something on the ground glistening in the light of the lantern. It wasn't much, but he crossed over to it and crouched down. The light of the lantern made it easier to see, but at the same time, the shadows made it that much harder to see. He swiped at the ground with his fingers, not sure what he was hoping to find.

Something sticky - not much of it. He sniffed his fingers cautiously. Blood. Only a little, but even so. "Sir?" he said, still crouching down but looking across to where the surgeon was. "There's a bit o' blood down here, like."

It was Mayden who approached first, since the sawbones was busy dousing Jack's hand with some brandy. He held Mister Brady's lantern, which afforded him the necessary illumination to see what Cotton had spotted.

With a frown, he glanced toward Jack. The brief glimpse he'd gotten of his mate's hand didn't account for the blood on the ground. "It ain't yours, Jack?"

Knowing the man as he did, he suspected he knew the answer already. But the question had to be asked.

"Course it is," was the retort. "I got bit, din't I?"