leman, added a third angle to the discussion,
which now became a sort of triangular duel, and ended, at last, with but
a triangular result.

CHAPTER XIX.

A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.

"Mexico? Molino del Rey? Resaca de la Palma?"

"Resaca de la _Tomba_!"

Leaving his reputation to take care of itself, since, as is not seldom
the case, he knew nothing of its being in debate, the herb-doctor,
wandering towards the forward part of the boat, had there espied a
singular character in a grimy old regimental coat, a countenance at once
grim and wizened, interwoven paralyzed legs, stiff as icicles, suspended
between rude crutches, while the whole rigid body, like a ship's long
barometer on gimbals, swung to and fro, mechanically faithful to the
motion of the boat. Looking downward while he swung, the cripple seemed
in a brown study.

As moved by the sight, and conjecturing that here was some battered hero
from the Mexican battle-fields, the herb-doctor had sympathetically
accosted him as above, and received the above rather dubious reply. As,
with a half moody, half surly sort of air that reply was given, the
cripple, by a voluntary jerk, nervously increased his swing (his custom
when seized by emotion), so that one would have thought some squall had
suddenly rolled the boat and with it the barometer.

"Tombs? my friend," exclaimed the herb-doctor in mild surprise. "You
have not descended to the dead, have you? I had imagined you a scarred
campaigner, one of the noble children of war, for your dear country a
glorious sufferer. But you are Lazarus, it seems."

"Yes, he who had sores."

"Ah, the _other_ Lazarus. But I never knew that either of them was in
the army," glancing at the dilapidated regimentals.

"That will do now. Jokes enough."

"Friend," said the other reproachfully, "you think amiss. On principle,
I greet unfortunates with some pleasant remark, the better to call off
their thoughts from their troubles. The physician who is at once wise
and humane seldom unreservedly sympathizes with his patient. But come, I
am a herb-doctor, and also a natural bone-setter. I may be sanguine, but
I think I can do something for you. You look up now. Give me your story.
Ere I undertake a cure, I require a full account of the case."

"You can't help me," returned the cripple gruffly. "Go away."

"You seem sadly destitute of----"

"No I ain't destitute; to-day, at least, I can pay my way."

"The Natural Bone-setter i