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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Dark Forest"

I paused, wiped the sweat from my
eyes, stood up. Nikitin looked at me.
"Take some fresh air!" he said. "Go out with the stretcher
for half an hour. I can manage here."
I wiped my forehead.
"Sure you can manage?" I asked.
"Quite," said Nikitin. "Here, hold his back!... No, _durak_,
his _back_. _Boje moi_, can't you get your arm under?
There--like that. _Horosho, golubchik, horosho_ ... only a
minute! There! There!"
I washed my hands and went out. The air caressed my forehead
like cold water; from the little garden at the back there
came scents of flowers; the moonlight was blue on the
common. Eight sanitars were waiting to start. The Feldscher
in charge of them did not, I thought, seem greatly pleased
when he saw me, but then I am often stupidly sensitive; no
one said anything and we started. We carried two stretchers
and a soldier from the trenches was with us to guide us.
I could see that the men were not happy.


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