"Dr. Ryan," he whispered, "won't you ask for this leg, and then give it to me?"
"It would be of no use, Mr. Richardson; they would think the leg must be buried, or the man would not do well. It would cost me my practice. They are that superstitious. But if I were you, I would find out where they bury it, and dig it up to-night."
The doctor took up the limb, and carrying it into the kitchen, said, "This leg must be put in a box and buried."
"That it must," replied the father of the young man; "for I've heard say, ever since I can remember, if a dog or any critter got hold of any part of a person what had been cut off, that person would feel it just as though the limb was still on."
"I'll make the box, and help bury it," said Rich.
"I should be much obliged if you would, Mr. Richardson. Neighbor Pollard, here, will help you. Where ought it to be buried, doctor?"
"In the graveyard with his relatives, to be sure. It is part of a Christian, and the rest of him will go to keep it company some time."
A daughter of the family had died some years before, and Pollard proposed that the leg should be buried beside her grave, which was done.
The doctor had proposed that it should be put in a box, in order to keep it clean, and in a good state for Rich to dissect, and be placed in the cemetery, because that lot was in a retired spot.