“Well?”
Hamilton stared at McCall. “Well? You don’t mean to tell me, Bill—not your eye.”
McCall shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, one eye’s enough, anyway. I can see everything as well—Here, nurse, orderly!” His voice rang out. “He’s fainted.”
But Meadows had already seen Bob’s head fall forward against McCall’s knee, and the next minute Hamilton was back in bed.
“Just a slight relapse,” smiled Meadows. “They get that way when they’re not used to walking. Come in again when he’s a little stronger.”
VII
McCall, whose bed was in an adjoining ward, called frequently. There was a possibility that his eyesight might still be restored, but the operation was extremely hazardous. It involved fastening together the two ends of the optic nerve, close to the brain. As time went on the nerve tissue would shrivel and recede, so that if McCall waited too long the ends of the nerve would no longer meet. If an operation was to be performed, it would have to be done as quickly as possible. McCall could see perfectly out of his right eye. A successful operation would restore sight to the left eye as well. On the other hand, failure might prove fatal.
Dr. Levin had laid the problem squarely before McCall and the latter was pondering it seriously.
“I’ve a good mind, Bob, to give him a shot at it,” said McCall one day, as they sat side by side on Hamilton’s cot.