"
"You!" exclaimed the surgeon, dropping his dressings in surprise, "you!
But you knew it was a horse!"
"I had such suspicions, I own," said the major, smiling, and holding a
beverage to the lips of his friend.
"Such blows alighting on the human frame are fatal," continued the
doctor, pursuing his business. "They set at naught the benefits which
flow from the lights of science; they are useless in a battle, for
disabling your foe is all that is required. I have sat, Major Dunwoodie,
many a cold hour, while Captain Lawton has been engaged, and after all
my expectation, not a single case worth recording has occurred--all
scratches or death wounds. Ah! the saber is a sad weapon in unskillful
hands! Yes, Major Dunwoodie, many are the hours I have thrown away in
endeavoring to impress this truth on Captain John Lawton."
The impatient major pointed silently to his friend, and the surgeon
quickened his movements.
"Ah! poor George, it is a narrow chance; but"--he was interrupted by a
messenger requiring the presence of the commanding officer in the field.
Dunwoodie pressed the hand of his friend, and beckoned the doctor to
follow him, as he withdrew.
"What think you?" he whispered, on reaching the passage. "Will he live?"
"He will."
"Thank God!" cried the youth, hastening below.
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