"Here is the doctor's house," said the master, as they entered the village, and, turning, met the young surgeon on his way out of the gate.
"Patient for you, Doctor!" said the master.
"Father will attend to him," came the reply, "I'm hurrying to Liége. They need me there. What is it? Accident case?"
"Shell splinter," said the master.
The doctor halted and turned back.
"Already!" he exclaimed.
Horace and the master carried their burden into the house, the doctor following them.
"I'll look at him," he said, "and let Father dress the wound. He hasn't practiced for ten years, but every medical man will have to work now, I'm thinking."
They laid Deschamps on the operating table.