"Had the animal at my mercy, I thought," d'Aubrac apologised, "when
suddenly he drew that knife, stuck me and broke away."
"I understand," Duchemin replied. "But don't talk. You'll want all your
strength, my friend."
With his pocket-knife he laid open the sodden sleeves of coat and
shirt, exposing an upper arm stained dark with blood that welled in
ugly jets from a cut both wide and deep.
"Artery severed," he announced, and straightened up and looked about,
at a loss. "My pack--?"
One's actions in moments of excitement are apt to be largely directed
by the subconscious, he knew; still he found it hard to believe that he
could unwittingly have unshipped and dropped his rucksack while making
ready to pursue the American uniform. Nevertheless, it seemed, that was
just what he had done.
The woman who had spoken to him found and fetched it from no great
distance; and its contents enabled Duchemin to improvise a tourniquet,
and when the flow of blood was checked, a bandage. During the operation
d'Aubrac unostentatiously fainted.
The young girl caught her breath, a fluttering hiss.
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