"Amputation?" Sim turned with curiosity to his neighbor.
"It's where they cut off your leg, Sim," said Wid, explaining.
"Oh, well, maybe we'll save his leg," said Dr. Barnes, grinning at last. "But don't let this occur again, my Christian friend. This will lay you up for two or three weeks the best way it can happen, in all likelihood. Well, I'll swab it out and tie it up, and give you some iodine. Keep it painted. How big do the grayling go up in your country?"
"I've seen plenty over three pounds," said Sim Gage.
"I don't like to doubt your word, my friend, but if you'll show me one three-pound grayling, you won't ever owe me anything for fixing up your leg."
"I sure can, Doc," said Sim Gage. "Grasshoppers is best."
"For you, maybe. If you please, I'll try Queen of the Waters, or Professor, long-shanked, and about Number 8. And I say again, if you'll put me up to a three-pound grayling I'll cut off your leg for nothing any time you want it done!"
"Well, now," said Sim Gage, his forehead puckering up, "I don't want to put you under no obligations, Doc."
"He won't, neither, Doc," interrupted Wid Gardner, while the surgical dressing was going forward. "There's holes in there twenty feet deep, and I've see two or three hundred grayling in there dang near as long as your arm."
"Ouch, Doc!" remarked Sim Gage, "that yellow stuff smarts."