"Yes, of course, if it should gangrene," said he, sharply.
"I don't care much for life, but I should not like to lose my arm. Do you think that--that--"
"What?" he asked, opening his box of tools with sangfroid.
"I shall die of this?"
"Of a smashed bone?"
"Yes."
"Well, my dear fellow, not yet, I hope."
"Yet?" said I, doubtfully.
"Well, immediately, I mean. There is already much sign of inflammation, and consequent chance of fever. The os humerus is, as I say, smashed to pieces, and the internal and external condyles of the elbow are most seriously injured. Corporal Mulligan, a basin and sponge, and desire Dr.----" (I did not catch the name) "to step this way."
The corporal, a black-bearded Connaught Ranger, who had lost an eye at Alma, brought what the surgeon required; he then placed a handkerchief to my nostrils; there was a bubbling sensation in the brain, but momentary, as the handkerchief contained chloroform; then something peaceful, soporific, and soothing stole over me, and for a time I became oblivious of all around me.