“Is your left arm wounded?” asked Edmund.
“It's not exactly a wound,” Peter said. “I got the weight of his shoulder on my shield—like a load of bricks and the rim of the shield drove into my wrist. I don't think it's broken, but it might be a sprain. If you could tie it up very tight I think I could manage.”
While they were doing this, Edmund asked anxiously. “What do you think of him, Peter?”
“Tough,” said Peter. “Very tough. I have a chance if can keep him on the hop till his weight and short wind come against him—in this hot sun too. To tell the truth, I haven't much chance else. Give my love to—to everyone at home, Ed, if he gets me. Here he comes into the lists again So long, old chap. Good-bye, Doctor. And I say, Ed, say something specially nice to Trumpkin. He's been a brick.”