Next morning Dixon looked grave. "H'm!" he remarked. "That plate's cracked. Part of the dog's jaw has dropped an eighth of an inch."
"Is it a failure?" asked Webb anxiously.
"Never say die till you're dead," said the other. "Failure? Not if I know it. I'll make something that won't crack."
He was as good as his word, for within an hour he was back with a second plate, made, this time, out of hard dental alloy.
Once more Laddie's jaw was set, and from that time things went well. Other vets., hearing of the weird operation, came to visit the canine patient, and all expressed their opinion that Dixon would win through with his case.
Unremittingly Webb attended to his part of the contract, keeping Laddie well supplied with nourishing liquids. One morning—it was the seventh day of Osborne's illness—Captain M'Bride came to Webb's quarters.
"I've just seen the principal medical officer," he announced, hardly able to conceal the state of his mind. "Osborne recovered consciousness at four this morning. His first enquiry was whether Laddie were alive; and, of course, he could be truthfully informed that he was, and that the animal was well on the road to recovery. Osborne is, I believe, now out of danger. We'll be able to see him in another ten days, I hope, and bring Laddie restored to health as tangible evidence. And, by the by, here's something of a personal nature that will interest you—a copy of a part of to-day's Orders."
"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Webb, the wind completely shaken out of his sails. "What's that for?"
"Bravery and discretion under circumstances of great peril," replied Captain M'Bride. "You've won it fairly, Webb. I congratulate you."
For Webb, Sub-lieutenant no longer, had been specially promoted to Lieutenant and awarded the D.S.O. for services in connection with the rescue of the crew of the mined Portchester Castle.