A little smile, a glance towards the bandaged arm, seemed to say there was nothing very bad, but that what there was it would be easier for him to have the doctor find out for himself.
Nor further did the doctor ask, but proceeded to work. And it appeared soon that Dr. Harrison at play, and Dr. Harrison at work, were two people—yet the same! The doctor did not indeed play at his work; yet the work was done with the same skilful ease that he brought to his play; an ignorant eye could see as much; and Mr. Simlins jealously looking on, felt very soon at ease as to the doctor's part in the scene before him. Dr. Harrison knew his business, and knew it well.
Mr. Linden's coat was removed, in the course of which operation a keen glance of the doctor's eye over at Reuben shewed that he recognized him; but then he attended to nothing but his patient. He found that a number of duck shot had been lodged in Mr. Linden's side and arm, the latter of which was somewhat lacerated, and this was the principal wound. The others were slight, the shot having taken a slanting direction and so rather grazed than penetrated. Dr. Harrison with care and skill went on to extract the shot and dress the wounds, which he did after the happy and simple regimen of modern discoveries; and ordered certain restoratives which he judged his patient needed. He did not speak except on business till he had seen these doing their work and Mr. Linden able to reply to him. And then his first words were to the farmer; who, not asking a question, had stood by as silent and watchful as Reuben himself; nearly as grave.
"There's nothing the matter with him, Mr. Simlins," he said. "He'll be able to shoot you in a day or two—if he has a mind. What have you been doing to him?"
"Me! I've been actin' the part of the good Syrian to him," growled Mr. Simlins;—"only I always thought before, the oil and wine went on the outside instead of the inside."
"I dare say," said the doctor lightly, probably not understanding the allusion. And then he seated himself on the side of the bed, looking down at his patient very much in his usual manner.
"You'll have made yourself the hero of Pattaquasset, Linden," he said. "There won't another fellow stand a chance to be looked at for a month to come—from here to Quilipeak. You ought to be indicted for breach of the public peace."
"Don't try it—" said Mr. Linden. "I should doubtless prevail with the jury too."
"Ha?—" said the doctor with another glance over at Reuben. "Now how did this come about?"
"Quite suddenly—as I was walking home."