“Yes, Peter, take the tools up to a convenient spot near the breach. There’s many a snug corner there in the ruins; and although we mayn’t have as good an operation-room as in old ‘Steevens’s,’ yet we’ll beat them hollow in cases.”
“Listen to the fellow,” said Giles, with a shudder. “The thought of his confounded thumbscrews and tourniquets is worse to me than a French howitzer.”
“The devil a kinder-hearted fellow than Maurice,” said O’Shaughnessy, “for all that; and if his heart was to be known this moment, he’d rather handle a sword than a saw.”
“True for you, Dennis,” said Quill, overhearing him, “but we are both useful in our way, as the hangman said to Lord Clare.”
“But should you not be in the rear, Maurice?” said I.
“You are right, O’Malley,” said he, in a whisper; “but, you see, I owe the Cork Insurance Company a spite for making me pay a gout premium, and that’s the reason I’m here. I warned them at the time that their stinginess would come to no good.”
“I say, Captain O’Malley,” said Giles, “I find I can’t be as good as my word with you; my servant has moved to the rear with all my traps.”
“What is to be done?” said I.
“Is it shaving utensils you want?” said Maurice. “Would a scalpel serve your turn?”
“No, Doctor, I’m going to take a turn of duty with your fellows to-night.”