"
He himself turned his back and was busy near by at a smaller table,
arranging his instruments. "What then represented surgical care
would to-day be called criminal carelessness. Next he went out to
the front door and called aloud for Eleazar.
"Come here, man," commanded Jamieson, after he had the old trapper
in the room. "Take hold of this good leg and hold it still.
Madam, I want you at the foot on the other side. You may get hold
of the edge of the table with your hands, Dunwody, and hold still,
if you can. I won't be very long."
Swiftly the doctor cut away the garments from the wounded limb,
which lay now exposed in all the horrors of its inflammation. . . .
The next instant there was a tense tightening of the muscles of the
man on the table. There was a sigh of deep, intaken breath,
followed, however, by no more than a faint moan as the knife went
at its work. . . .
"I'm not going to do it!" came back from under the surgeon's arm.
"There's half a chance--I'm going to try to save it! Hold on, old
man,--here's the thing to do--we're going to try--"
He went down now into the quivering tissues and laid bare the edge
of the broken bone, deep to the inner lines.
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