"Shall I tell them to bring the ether, doctor?"
Dr. Ferris turned his head slowly.
"What are you doing here?" he said, in his smiling professional voice. "You ought to be undressed, scrubbed, and ready for the anaesthetic yourself."
"But I thought--I thought you'd make sure of the legs first, before you did anything to me."
"The success of graftage," said the doctor, "lies in the speed with which the parts to be grafted can be transferred from one patient to the other. In this case, the two operations will proceed at the same time--side by side. There are four of us, and two nurses to do what is necessary--now if you will go and get ready."
"Frankly, doctor, do you think the chances of success are good?"
Dr. Ferris's voice rang out heartily. "Splendid!" he said, "splendid!" He turned once more to Wilmot. "I am sorry for you," he said kindly, "but you are willing that we should go ahead, aren't you?"
Blizzard stood, hesitating.
"Not losing your nerve?" asked the surgeon, and there was the least hint of mockery in his voice.
"Hope this is the last time I have to walk on stumps," Blizzard answered, and he began to move toward the door.