Dick is seated with his head on his hands, leaning on the table, fast asleep. Dr. Adamson, the surgeon of the expedition, comes in. He is a large-boned brawny fellow with a Scotch accent. He looks at Dick and smiles.
Doctor.
Hulloa, there! [Dick starts up and seizes the gun. The Doctor laughs.] All right. Don't shoot. It's only me.
Dick.
[With a laugh.] Why the dickens did you wake me up? I was dreaming—dreaming of a high-heeled boot and a neat ankle, and the swish of a white lace petticoat.
Doctor.
I thought I'd just have a look at your arm.
Dick.
It's one of the most æsthetic sights I know.
Doctor.