n heal."

Gwyn leaped to his feet, seized the basket from where it had been placed
upon the floor, tilted it upside down, so that the fish flew out over to
one side of the shed, and turned sharply to Joe,--"Catch hold!" he said,
as he let the great basket down; and setting the example, he took hold
of one end of the flannel couch on which poor Grip lay. Joe took the
other, and together they lifted the dog carefully into the basket, where
he subsided without a whine, his eyes seeming to say,--

"Master knows best."

"I'll carry him to the house, Mr Gwyn, sir," said Vores.

"No, thank you," said the boy, shortly; "we can manage."

"Didn't mean to offend you, sir," said the man, apologetically. "Wanted
to do what was best."

"Ay, sir, that we did," said Hardock. "I'm afeard if you get binding up
his legs, they'll go all mortificatory and drop off; and a clear cut's
better than that, for if his legs mortify like, he'll die. If they're
ampitated, he'll bleed a bit, but he'll soon get well."

"Thank you both," said Gwyn, quietly. "I know you did not mean harm,
but we can manage to get him right, I think. Come along, Joe."

They lifted the basket, one at each end, swinging the dog between them,
and started off, Grip whining softly, but not attempting to move.

"Shall we bring on the fish, sir?" shouted Hardock.

"Bother the fish!" cried Gwyn. "No; take it yourselves."

CHAPTER FORTY.

A BIT OF SURGERY.

"Oh, Gwyn, my dear boy," cried Mrs Pendarve, who was picking flowers
for the supper-table as the boys came up to the gate, "what is the
matter?"

"Grip's legs broken," said the boy, abruptly. "Where's father?"

"In the vinery, my dear. What are you going to do? Let me see if--"

"No, no, mother, we'll manage," said Gwyn; "come along, Joe."

They hurried down the garden, and up to where the sloping glass
structure stood against the wall, from out of which came the sound of
the Colonel's manly voice, as he trolled out a warlike ditty in French,
with a chorus of "Marchons! Marchons!" and at every word grapeshot fell
to the ground, for the Colonel, in spite of the suggestions of war, was
peacefully engaged, being seated on the top of a pair of steps thinning
out the grapes which hung from the roof.

"Here, father, quick!" cried Gwyn, as they entered the vinery.

"Eh? Hullo! What's the matter?"

"Grip's been on the man-engine and got his fore-legs crushed."

"Dear me! Poor old dog!" said th