you tell me the name of the wounded man?"

The squaw shook her head, and only said, "Esther not know."

By this time his preparations were completed, which he had not allowed
the conversation to interrupt, and closely followed by the woman, he
hastened to the wharf. Here casting an eye to the flys that waved from
the masts of some of the vessels, and observing the wind was fair, he
rejected her offer to take him in the canoe, and throwing himself
into a little sail-boat, was soon busily engaged in untying the sails.
While thus employed a voice saluted his ears:

"Why, doctor, what is in the wind now?"

The person who thus addressed him was a young man of probably not more
than twenty-five years of age. His dress indicated that he belonged to
the wealthier class of citizens, and there was something pleasing in
his manners and address.

"Glad to see you, William," said the doctor. "I want a crew; come,
ship for a cruise."

"But where away, doctor?"

"To Holden's island, to visit a wounded man. Jump aboard, and tend
jib-sheets."

By this time the sails were hoisted, and, the young man complying with
the invitation, the little craft was soon under weigh, and rapidly
proceeding down the river. The distance was only three or four miles,
and quickly passed over. They were met on the beach by Holden, to whom
the gentlemen were both known, but he was unable to inform them of the
name of the wounded man. As soon as the doctor beheld him, however, he
exclaimed:

"It is Mr. Pownal. God forbid the hurt should be serious."

The countenance of the doctor's companion, and the few words he
uttered, denoted also recognition of the stranger.

"So, my poor fellow," said the doctor, as the sufferer extended a
hand, and expressed in a few words his pleasure at the coming of the
two, "that is enough, I claim a monopoly of the talking."

He proceeded at once to examine the wound, which he did with great
care and in silence. He found, as Holden had said, that the charge
had only grazed the surface, tearing the flesh from the side up to
the shoulder, pretty deeply, indeed, but making an ugly, rather than
a dangerous wound. After the task was completed, and lint and fresh
bandages were applied, the doctor sunk with a sigh, as of relief, upon
a chair, and assured the young man that he only needed rest for the
present, and in a day or two might return to his friends.

"I would rather lose six ordinary patients than you, Tom Pownal,"