“It may be nothing,” agreed the patient, “but I’m going to preach it, just the same. And I won’t have an anæsthetic, thank you just as much, Doctor.”
Red said no more. No surgeon but is astute enough to tell whether a patient is bluffing or whether he means it. Unquestionably, though Black’s face was the colour of ashes, he meant it. Therefore Red proceeded to reduce the dislocation, without the advantage to himself—or to the patient—of the relaxing aid of the anæsthetic. It was a bad dislocation, and it took the doctor’s own sturdy muscles and all his professional skill to do the trick in a few quick, efficient moves and one tremendous pull. But it was all over in less time that it takes to tell it, and only one low groan had escaped Black’s tightly pressed lips. Nevertheless his forehead was wet and cold when he lay limp at the end of that bad sixty seconds.
A strong arm came under his shoulders, and a glass was held to his lips. “Drink this—you’ll be all right in a minute,” said a rather far-away voice, and Black obediently swallowed something which he didn’t much like—and which he probably would have refused to take if he had suspected that it was going to help buck him up the way it did. He had an absurd idea of not allowing himself to be bucked up by anything but his own will—not in the presence of Red, anyhow.
“Some nerve—for a preacher,” presently said the voice which sounded nearer now.
“Why—a preacher?” inquired Black, as belligerently as a man can who is stretched upon his back with his coat off, his arm being bandaged to his side, and a twenty-four hours’ growth of beard on his somewhat aggressive chin.
“Never mind,” Red commanded. “We won’t have it out now. I don’t blame you—that was hitting a man when he’s down.”
“I’m not down.” Black attempted to sit up. A vigorous arm detained him where he was.
“Just keep quiet a few minutes, and you’ll be the gainer in the end. By the way—can you shave with your left hand?”
“I never tried it.” Black’s left hand took account of his cheek and chin. “I was just going to shave when those—fool—cherries caught my eye.”
“Where’s your shaving stuff?”