The surgeon sat in
dignified composure on his horse; his thin body erect, and his head
elevated with the indignation of one conscious of having been
unjustly treated.
"Why did you suffer the villain to escape?" demanded the captain. "Once
within reach of my saber, and I would have given you a subject for the
dissecting table."
"'Twas impossible to prevent it," said the surgeon, pointing to the
bars, before which he had stopped his horse. "The rogue threw himself on
the other side of this fence, and left me where you see; nor would the
man in the least attend to my remonstrances, or to an intimation that
you wished to hold discourse with him."
"He was truly a discourteous rascal; but why did you not leap the fence,
and compel him to a halt? You see but three of the bars are up, and
Betty Flanagan could clear them on her cow."
The surgeon, for the first time, withdrew his eyes from the place where
the fugitive had disappeared, and turned his look on his comrade. His
head, however, was not permitted to lower itself in the least, as he
replied,--
"I humbly conceive, Captain Lawton, that neither Mrs. Elizabeth
Flanagan, nor her cow, is an example to be emulated by Doctor Archibald
Sitgreaves. It would be but a sorry compliment to science, to say that a
doctor of medicine had fractured both his legs by injudiciously striking
them against a pair of barposts.
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