“Don’t exert yourself,” interrupted Edwin, as Will attempted to rise. “You must keep quiet until I fetch a doctor. Perhaps you’re not much hurt, but it is well to be careful. Will you promise me to be still?”
“All right sir,” said Will, promptly.
Edwin hastened for assistance, and in a short time the fireman was carried to a place of comparative shelter and his wounds examined.
Almost immediately after the examination Edwin knelt at his side, and signed to those around him to retire.
“Garvie,” he said, in a low kind voice, “I’m sorry to tell you that the doctors say you must lose your left arm.”
Will looked intently in Edwin’s face.
“Is there no chance of savin’ it?” he asked earnestly; “it might never be much to speak of, sir, but I’d rather run some risk than lose it.”
Edwin shook his head. “No,” he said sadly, “they tell me amputation must be immediate, else your life may be sacrificed. I said I would like to break it to you, but it is necessary, my poor fellow, that you should make up your mind at once.”
“God’s will be done,” said Will in a low voice; “I’m ready, sir.”
The circumstances did not admit of delay. In a few minutes the fireman’s left arm was amputated above the elbow, the stump dressed, and himself laid in as sheltered a position as possible to await the return of the train that was to convey the dead and wounded, more recently extricated, to Clatterby.