Volume I Part 4 (2/2)
”I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the river.”
”I beg your pardon,” interposed Dill, blandly, ”but you 've taken up my card by mistake.”
While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost clew to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud voice called out, ”Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put my foot through it?”
”There _is_ somebody there,” said Barrington, quietly, for he had now caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
[Ill.u.s.tration: 052]
”At last,” cried a stranger, as the door opened,--”at last! Do you know that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated discussion over the odd trick?--I fainting with hunger, and my friend with pain.” And so saying, he a.s.sisted another to limp forward, who leaned on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder to his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
”Have you met with an accident?” asked he, as he placed the sufferer on a sofa.
”Yes,” interposed the first speaker; ”he slipped down one of those rocks into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something.”
”It is our good fortune to have advice here; this gentleman is a doctor.”
”Of the Royal College, and an M.D. of Aberdeen, besides,” said Dill, with a professional smile, while, turning back his cuffs, he proceeded to remove the shoe and stocking of his patient.
”Don't be afraid of hurting, but just tell me at once what's the matter,” said the young fellow, down whose cheeks great drops were rolling in his agony.
”There is no p.r.o.nouncing at once; there is great tumefaction here. It may be a mere sprain, or it may be a fracture of the fibula simple, or a fracture with luxation.”
”Well, if you can't tell the injury, tell us what's to be done for it.
Get him to bed, I suppose, first?” said the friend.
”By all means, to bed, and cold applications on the affected part.”
”Here's a room all ready, and at hand,” said Barrington, opening the door into a little chamber replete with comfort and propriety.
”Come,” said the first speaker, ”Fred, all this is very snug; one might have fallen upon worse quarters.” And so saying, he a.s.sisted his friend forward, and deposited him upon the bed.
While the doctor busied himself with the medical cares for his patient, and arranged with due skill the appliances to relieve his present suffering, the other stranger related how they had lost their way, having first of all taken the wrong bank of the river, and been obliged to retrace their steps upwards of three miles to retrieve their mistake.
”Where were you going to?” asked Barringtou.
”We were in search of a little inn they had told us of, called the 'Fisherman's Home.' I conclude we have reached it at last, and you are the host, I take it?”
Barrington bowed a.s.sent.
”And these gentlemen are visitors here?” But without waiting for any reply,--difficult at all times, for he spoke with great rapidity and continual change of topic,--he now stooped down to whisper something to the sick man. ”My friend thinks he'll do capitally now, and, if we leave him, that he'll soon drop asleep; so I vote we give him the chance.”
Thus saying, he made a gesture for the others to leave, following them up as they went, almost like one enforcing an order.
”If I am correct in my reading, you are a soldier, sir,” said Barrington, when they reached the outer room, ”and this gentleman here is a brother officer,--Major M'Cor-mick.”
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