"Why, yes! of course there is," said this man for emergencies; "Fisher takes out teeth, he told me so the other day."
Now I did not believe that Fisher knew any more about extracting teeth than I did myself, but I breathed a prayer to the Recording Angel, and said naught.
"I'll go get Fisher," said Jack.
Now Fisher was the steamboat agent. He stood six feet in his stockings, had a powerful physique and a determined eye. Men in those countries had to be determined; for if they once lost their nerve, Heaven save them. Fisher had handsome black eyes.
When they came in, I said: "Can you attend to this business, Mr. Fisher?"
"I think so," he replied, quietly. "The Quartermaster says he has some forceps."
I gasped. Jack, who had left the room, now appeared, a box of instruments in his hand, his eyes shining with joy and triumph.
Fisher took the box, and scanned it. "I guess they'll do," said he.
So we placed Ellen in a chair, a stiff barrack chair, with a raw-hide seat, and no arms.
It was evening.