Part 66 (2/2)

”What's that for, sir?” said Joe, who was looking on eagerly.

”What do you think?” replied the Colonel. ”Now, Gwyn, right under, and hold it like a hammock while I lay the leg in. I'm obliged to hold it firmly to keep the bones in their places. Now, right over and tighten it. That's it. Round again. Now go on. Round and round. Well done.

Now I'll finish. Well,” he continued, as he took the ends of the bandage and braced the dog's leg firmly, ”why do I use this nasty white plaster, Joe?”

”Because it will set hard and stiff round the broken leg.”

”Good boy,” said the Colonel, smiling, ”take him up; Gwyn didn't see that.”

”Yes I did, father; but I didn't like to bother you and speak.”

”Then stop where you are, boy. Keep down, Joe; he behaved the better of the two. You are both right; the plaster and the linen will mould themselves as they dry to the shape of the dog's legs, and if we can keep him from trying to walk and breaking the moulds, Nature may do the rest. At all events, we will try. When the linen is firm, I'll bind splints of wood to them as well, so as to strengthen the plaster, though it is naturally very firm.”

”It will be a job to keep him quiet, father,” said Gwyn.

”I'm afraid so, my boy. Not, however, till the plaster sets; that cannot take very long, and we shall have to hold him down if it's necessary; but I don't think it will be. Poor fellow, he'll very likely go to sleep.”

As he spoke, the Colonel was busily employed finis.h.i.+ng the bandaging, and when this was done he stood thinking, while the dog lay quiet enough, blinking at those who had been operating upon him.

”We might secure his legs somehow,” said the Colonel, thoughtfully; ”for all our success depends upon the next hour.”

But Grip solved the difficulty by stretching himself out on one side with his bandaged legs together, and, closing his eyes, went off fast asleep, with the boys watching him--the Colonel having gone into the house, for it had turned too dark for him to go on grape-thinning long before the canine surgery was at an end.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

A MAN'S PURSUITS.

The boys watched beside the dog till past ten o'clock, when the Colonel came in and examined the bandages.

”Set quite hard,” he said, ”and he's sleeping fast enough. Nature always seems kind to injured animals. They curl up and go to sleep till they're better.”

”Then you think he'll get better, sir?” said Joe.

”Can't say, my boy; but you had better be off home to bed.”

”Yes, sir,” said Joe. ”Coming part of the way with me, Gwyn?”

Gwyn glanced at his father before saying yes, for he expected to hear an objection.

But the Colonel's attention was fixed upon the dog.

”Let him sleep,” he said; ”he'll be all right here till morning.”

”But if he stirs, he may fall off the cistern and hurt himself again, father.”

”No fear, my boy. I don't suppose he will attempt to move all night.

There, off with you, Gwyn, if you are going part of the way.”

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