"I think I'll do the compounding," said the surgeon, mentally recalling a formula of his earlier days, "and if the results aren't satisfactory—why, I'll resign and give Wilder his step;" and he turned towards the door, pausing to remark, "Don't overheat yourselves by hurrying, for I'm going to take my time in getting there."
The ten minutes had stretched well along towards twenty, when an uneven trampling of feet upon The Battery's stairs warned the waiting surgeon that his patients were at hand. He had employed his time to good purpose, however, and in the arrangement of his "field-hospital" there lacked nothing which long experience could suggest.
Before the wide dormer-window—in which every sash had been thrown open to catch whatever of breeze might stray that way—stood a round table, bearing a huge glass pitcher, filled to the brim with crimson claret-cup, and beaded with the dew of its icy contents. Five heavy chairs were ranged near at hand, and to each a glass was allotted, while beside every glass lay a newly filled pipe, ready for the lighting. Save one shaded lamp, all the lights were out, to give full play to the bright moonlight which came slanting in through the casement, tracing curious patterns of light and shadow upon the floor and walls. All looked cool and restful, and the surgeon gave just one more satisfied glance at his preparations before turning to receive his wearied brothers-in-arms.
"This way to the operating-table," he called out, as the door was flung open. "The instruments are ready, and the surgeon is waiting. I shall make no diagnosis in individual cases—since it is apparent that your ailment has reached the proportions of an epidemic—but shall treat you collectively."
"Bones, you deserve to be thanked 'in orders,'" said the colonel impressively, after a comprehensive survey of the surroundings. "Sit down, all—and Charley, you man the pitcher."
"I chose a pitcher in preference to a bowl," explained the beaming doctor, waving his hand in the direction of that seductive-looking vessel, "because the effect upon the eye is so much more pleasing. I tell you, the careful practitioner has to watch out for even the most trifling details."
A clatter of chairs followed this remark, succeeded by the musical tinkle of ice, as the adjutant filled the glasses. Then came a moment of refreshing silence; and finally five grateful men set down their empty tumblers with a universal, long-drawn sigh of comfort and supreme content.
"Wilder will not get his step this time," said the colonel, holding his glass in readiness for refilling, "for your reputation, Bones, is saved."
"Your appreciation touches me," replied the surgeon, leaning forward to possess himself of a pipe, an example followed by the others. One after another the matches cracked and flamed, until five corn-cobs glowed soothingly in the dim, half-light of the quiet room, sending a pale cloud of fragrant smoke adrift across the moonbeams, to twist and circle in the fitful current of air from the open casement.
"With the brigade band, which you'll have to-morrow," observed the colonel, between puffs, to the major, "you ought to go 'swinging on the old, old gait.'"