The doctor was up there soon after sunrise to find Mrs Hallam and Julia by Eaton’s couch, they having come down to take Crellock’s place shortly after daybreak.
“Good-morning. How is he?” said the doctor, quickly. “Mrs Hallam, you look ill yourself.”
“Nervous excitement. This trouble,” said Mrs Hallam, quietly; and she left the room with Julia, after answering a few questions.
The doctor examined the injury to the head, which was sufficiently grave, and then proceeded to re-bandage the shoulder that had been dislocated, watching the young man’s face, however, the while.
He felt the strained sinews, pressed on this bone, then on that, causing intense pain, and making his patient wince again and again; but though the muscles of his face twitched, and his lips involuntarily tightened, he did not even moan till, passing one hand beneath his shoulder, the doctor pressed on the bones again, when, with a sharp cry, Eaton drew in his breath.
“Hang it, doctor,” he whispered, quickly, “it’s like molten lead.”
“Ah, I thought that would make you speak, Phil. You confounded young humbug! I saw you were shamming.”
“No, no, doctor, not shamming. My head aches frightfully, and I can’t move my arm.”
“But you could get up and walk down to barracks to breakfast?”
“No, indeed I couldn’t, doctor.”