THE SANITARY CORPS.
In the centre of the Brownie camp were three large tents, the officers'
headquarters, the hospital tent, and the marquee of the Sanitary Corps.
These were wrought out of large leaves, deftly stretched upon frames,
with edges overlapping like a tiled roof, and anchored to the ground by
small pebbles, heaps of sand, and by tent pins of thorns or splinters.
[Illustration: FIG. 37.--The Hospital Tent and Marquee of the Sanitary
Corps.]
The Headquarters' tent was occupied by the chief officers, Bruce,
Rodney, MacWhirlie and Pipe. The Hospital tent was devoted to the sick
and wounded. But one would not easily imagine who were the occupants of
the Sanitary tent; we shall therefore lift the door of the marquee, and
peep within.
It is a snug place. In the centre, well up toward the roof, a large
fox-fire lantern hangs from the ridge pole which sheds a soft light
throughout the interior. A strong odor of herbs and ointments fills the
place, the reason for which soon appears. Four wee Brownie women are
busy with retorts, jars, boxes, lint, bandages, and various other
articles of the healing art.
The oldest of the party, judged by our human standard, has reached that
uncertain boundary of womanhood which divides maiden from matron. One
might venture to call her an "old maid" Brownie, and perhaps she would
not deny it, for that is a class--God bless them!--whom the Brownies
dearly love. But no one could aver that the fairy woman had suffered
loss of charms by advance in life. One glance into her face shows how
pure, gentle and good must be the disposition that has wrought the
tracery of such sweet expression around her features. Her name is
Agatha; she is the only child of Captain Bruce, and one does not wonder,
having once seen her, that even the Brownies call her Agatha the Good.
She is spreading upon tiny bandages out of a tiny jar some kind of
ointment, the recipe for which you may be sure is in none of our
dispensaries, but which the Brownies call Lily Balm.
The young Brownie who attends her, not as handmaid but companion, is
called Grace. Her face is such a goodly one, her manners are so gentle,
easy and winning, her every movement so graceful, delicate and yet so
full of life, that we shall not be surprised to hear you say: "Surely,
she must be the Fairy Queen herself!"
At the other end of the tent, kneeling over a brazier filled with coals,
is the third member of the Sanitary Corps. She holds above the coals a
retort, in which she is distilling Lily Balm. Her back is toward us and
her face is hidden. There! you have caught a glimpse of it as she turned
her head to speak to her companion. The cheeks are flushed, the eyes
are bright with the glow of the coals, there is an earnest, pitiful look
in their deep blue that speaks of thought intent upon present duty. But
there is also a strange light therein, a light as from some far away
world, that throws an air of mystery around this person and bids your
thoughts pause reverently as they run on in judgment concerning her.
This is Faith, the daughter of Rodney the Commodore. She is young as the
Brownies count years, and was born "at sea," that is, upon the Lake
Katrine of Brownieland, through which flows the Rivulet at the foot of
the Orchard.
[Illustration: FIG. 38.--A Peep Inside the Sanitary Tent. Faith
Distilling Lily-Balm.]
At Faith's side is her companion and friend, Sophia, the daughter of
Pipe, the Boatswain. There is a mixture of boldness and shyness in her
manner that strikes one at once. Her movements have the snap and
positiveness of a practical woman. Her eyes sparkle with intelligence;
there is in them a keen, questioning look which tells that she loves not
only to know, but to know the reason why. If she were not a Brownie you
would probably say she was a pushing sort of person; that you scarcely
could decide whether she was more curious or sincere, more dreamy or
practical, more skeptical or credulous. But that she is beautiful you
would not hesitate to say. She is busy among the herbs, sorting them,
making ready material for Faith's retort.
Now that you have seen this Sanitary Corps, and learned their names, you
may drop the door of the tent and we shall go on with the story.
"Come, Grace, we have done quite enough for the present," said Agatha.
"Bring the bandages and let us go to the Hospital. Have you lint and
balm in your satchel? Very well. That is all we need now. Faith, hadn't
you better leave off distilling, and help us for a while with the
dressing?"
"Yes; if you wish it," answered Faith, "and we can stop now as well as
not."
The pots and herbs were set aside, and Faith and Sophia followed Agatha
and Grace through the rear door of the marquee. They crossed into the
Hospital under a covered way that united the two tents. The Hospital was
a spacious tent, or rather several large tents or marquees, joined in
one. Along each side on the rude cots hastily made from dried grass and
leaves, lay a number of wounded Brownies. The sufferers turned their
eyes upon the Nurses as they entered, and at once their faces lit up
with pleasure. Agatha and her friends went from couch to couch carrying
the blessings of their healing art. Some of the men had hurts that had
not yet been dressed. These were first carefully washed. The lint, which
the Nurses carried in their satchels, was laid upon the wound to absorb
the poison, and the balm applied.
[Illustration: FIG. 39.--The Jaws and Fangs.]
A Pixie uses his fangs, when fighting at close quarters, with terrible
effect. His mouth is a tremendous piece of machinery. The jaws are each
armed with a sharp, movable fang, pierced near its end. When the Pixie
bites, a poisonous fluid flows through this hole into the wound.[Y] In
battle with Brownies the Pixies try to come to close quarters. Being
much larger and more powerful, they seize them in their hairy arms,
strike their fangs into them, and spring back quickly out of reach of
the Brownie's sharp sword or axe. All this is done so rapidly, that
often ere the victim has time to strike a blow he has been wounded and
cast down, and his assailant is out of reach. The poison leaves a
painful wound in the Brownie's flesh, frequently disabling, but never
killing him unless the heart be reached. Indeed, no Brownie ever
perished by any form of violence except drowning, suffocation or a heart
stroke.
For the hurt made by Pixie fangs the Lily Balm made by the Sanitary
Corps is a sure remedy. If applied at once upon soft lint, which
absorbs the poison, the relief is immediate. But in any case it will
ease the pain, and in the end cure the wound.
The uses of this balm, and all the services which the sick require, were
well known by Agatha and her aids. They always followed the army; no
risk or toil was shunned by them upon their noble mission. They were the
wards of the nation, and the favorites of the army. Moreover, for why
should we keep it a secret? every one of them was dearly beloved by a
worthy youth, who had the joy of being loved in return.
[Illustration: FIG. 40.--The Poison Bag and Fang.]
The four Nurses made the round of the Hospital, visited every couch, and
applied or ordered needed remedies. At the end of the tent was a group
of Brownies, with wounds which required treatment, but were not serious
enough to hinder from duty. Their hurts were quickly cared for, and one
after another the party dropped out until only one was left. He was a
tall, shapely youth, who stood within the shadow of the gangway with his
face muffled in a cloak. As the last of the group was dismissed from the
Nurses' hands he stepped forward into the light, dropped his cloak,
saluted the Nurses, and advancing to Sophia's side held out toward her
his left arm. The sleeve had been ripped up, and a blood-stained bandage
surrounded the forearm. Sophia's cheeks grew pale, and she uttered a low
cry of alarm.
"Why, Sophie," exclaimed the youth, "what has possessed you? One would
think you had never seen blood before. Come, my good lass, it is only a
scratch, and a few drops of your Lily Balm will make it all right."
[Illustration: FIG. 41.--Sophia Dressing Sergeant True's Wounded Arm.]
Sophia now found voice. "What a fright you gave me! Are you sure that
you are not badly hurt, True? Quick! let me undo the bandage." The blood
came back to her cheeks which now were hot and flushed. Her fingers
trembled as she clipped the bandages with the scissors that hung at her
belt, bathed the wound, and tenderly laid on lint and balm. Sophia was
one of the best and most impartial of nurses; but it must be confessed
that her fingers passed more gently over that swollen arm; that her eyes
had a more pitiful look upon that hurt; that she lingered longer about
the details of bathing, anointing and bandaging that wound than she had
done in any other case. Do you blame her?
And Sergeant True was a model patient. Indeed he seemed quite to enjoy
his wound, or at least the treatment of it. Agatha, after a few kind
inquiries, had busied herself in giving instructions to the ward nurses
and watchers. Faith and Grace had withdrawn to their own tent.
"I am glad you came to me, True," said Sophia as the last stitch was
taken in the bands, and the sleeve was being gently fastened to its
place.
"Didn't I wait, just to make sure of that?" answered the Sergeant. "Why,
it is almost worth while to get a scratch like this for the pleasure of
having you doctor it with those canny fingers of yours. Many thanks!"
"But I don't care to practice my art on you, remember! Good bye!"
The words were spoken in the gangway as the handsome Sergeant passed
out, and--though it is by no means certain,--something very like the
sound of a kiss followed close upon them.
"Good bye!"
Ah, how many times the words are uttered on the border of shadows that
shall pall loving hearts. It is well that good-byes can be said in happy
ignorance of the morrow.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote Y: Appendix, Note A.]