"Yes, they unquestionably desire to publicly show their appreciation of your services, and I for one feel proud to be an American this day."
"Philander!"
"Excuse me, my dear. John, my boy, allow me to lead you out."
"One minute, please," says Lady Ruth, who has made a comfortable sling of a long white silk kerchief, which she wore around her neck.
This she insists on securing over John's shoulder.
"That arm must be painful. I know it from my long experience as the reliable assistant of my surgeon uncle. You will be glad to have this."
"But—for such a mere scratch—people will laugh at me," he protests, feebly, though it may be noticed that he makes no effort to deliver himself from the silk sling which she is now tying.
"People laugh at you! A mere scratch! Confound it, boy, there isn't a man living who would go through with what you have to-day for a cool, hundred thousand. I know one man a million would not tempt," cries the professor.
"I suppose I must submit," and accompanied by Philander, with the two women bringing up the rear, he passes out upon the balcony, where the colonel of Royal Engineers has remained, to be a curious spectator of the scene.
At sight of the hero of the street drama, those in the square before the hotel shout and cheer. They are mostly natives, but men and women feel very strongly drawn toward this young, smooth-faced American who risked his life to save a child, and that child a Maltese boy.