“I think, sir, his arm is broke, for it dangled by his side all the way we carried him.”
“Let us see, my boy, let us see! ’Tis broken! high up too, too high up. But we must strip him. Gently there—gently there, my lad"; and the groans of the poor fellow told his agony. The work was done with great care, and by slow degrees. But it was done, and then the frightful nature of his wounds became conspicuous: a gunshot wound from the middle of the arm to the shoulder. The ball had struck the humerus, and broken it, glanced over the head of it, and passed between the scapula and clavicle, and it might be easily felt lying in the external portion of the trapezian muscle. It was so near the skin that it was easily extracted; the difficulty was to get away those parts of the clothing which had been carried into the wound. Such was the effect of the first shot.
The second was the most severe. It had pierced through the long dorsal muscle, and the ball lay directly against the lumbar vertebrae. This wound was the more agonizing because it had pierced the strongest muscles of the human frame, and bruised the stoutest part of the backbone.
After the doctor had examined his wounds and ascertained that they were of the most serious nature, he said—
“This will be a work of time. Get some stimulants—put warm flannels on his feet—his extremities are icy cold. He has had violent exertion—all his muscles are hard and stiff. Put his hands in warm water. Wash his temples with warm vinegar. There, there; come, my poor fellow, come; consciousness will soon return.”
He opened his eyes, looked at the doctor, then at his master, then at his friends, and at last at Margaret, who was putting warm flannels to his feet. He looked earnestly at her, spoke not, but a tear stole down his face as he closed his eyes again.
His wounds were now probed, cleaned, and dressed, as carefully as if he had been one of the wealthiest squires or nobles of the land, and he was then left for the night, attended by two of his fellow-servants, in case he should need assistance or restraint.
“There, there, good-night, John, good-night. I think you’ll do now. Come, come, he feels a little easier. He breathes better"; and patting his cheeks in his good-humoured way, Dr. Stebbing left him, and went down into the parlour.
There is always a little chit-chat with the doctor after the usual labour of his profession is over, and he is quietly seated with the family. It is then he judges of what is best for his patient, for at such times the secrets of most families come forth; and if love or law, if loss of stock or money, if cruelties, injuries, or any causes whatever have been acting upon the patient’s mind, the doctor is sure to be made the confidant.
If the faculty could find out the means of supplying all their invalids with such things as they really wanted, they would soon get well, but in default of such means medicine and good advice—very necessary articles in their way—are supplies in which the faculty seldom fail.