"Oh! I guess I am!"
"Not unless you have made up your mind to it, and are quite determined. Those hip wounds kill a great many men, because folks do not know how to manage them, and because the men are easy to kill; but it takes a good deal to kill a young man with a good conscience, who has never drank liquor or used tobacco; who has muscle like yours, a red beard and blue gray eyes."
I summoned both his day and night nurse, told all three together of the surgical trap-door that old Mother Nature wanted made and kept open, clear up to the center of that wound. The surgeon would always make one if the patient wanted it. I told them about the warmth and nourishment and care needed, and left him and them full of hope and resolution.
Next time I was in Judiciary, a young man on crutches accosted me, saying:
"Were not you in Ward Six, about six weeks ago?"
"Yes!"
"Do you remember a man there, that every one said was going to die, and you said he wouldn't?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm the fellow."
I looked at him inquiringly, and said: