him,
cool, collected, armed to the teeth, as it were, for the fight, and
looking forward to it with eagerness. There had been possibly a slight
pallor upon his face, as Miss Dodge had adjusted his mask of gauze, but,
as Burns recalled it, this was a common matter with many surgeons, and it
might easily have been characteristic of Leaver himself, even though
Burns had not remembered it. His own heart was thumping heavily in his
breast, as it had never thumped when he had been the chief actor in the
coming scene.

"Lord, make him go through all right," he was praying, almost
unconsciously, while he eyed the September landscape unseeingly, and
listened for the sound of the stretcher bearers....

As they came in at the door Burns turned, and saw, or thought he saw,
Leaver draw one deep, long breath. Then, in a minute or so, the fight was
on. He remembered, of old, that there was never much delay after the
distinguished surgeon saw his patient before him, had assured himself
that all was well with the working of the anesthetic, and had taken
up his first instrument....

Swift and sure moved Leaver's hands, obeying the swift, sure working of
his brain. There was not a moment's indecision. More than one moment of
deliberation there was, but Burns, watching, knew as well as if his
friend had been a part of himself that the brief pauses in his work were
a part of the work itself, and meant that as his task unfolded before him
he stopped to weigh feasible courses, choosing with unerring judgment the
better of two possible alternatives, and proceeding with the confidence
essential to the unfaltering touch. As Burns beheld the process pass the
point of greatest danger and approach conclusion, he felt somewhat as a
man may who, unable to help, watches a swimmer breasting tremendous seas,
and sees him win past the last smother of breakers and make his way into
calmer waters. He was conscious that he himself had been breathing
shallowly as he watched, and now drew several deep inspirations
of relief.

"By George, that was the gamest thing I ever saw," thought Burns,
exultingly. "He hasn't shown the slightest sign of flinching. And Amy
Mathewson--she's played up to every move like a little second brain of
his."

He looked at the small clock on a shelf of the surgery, and his head
swam. "He's outdone himself," he nearly cried aloud. "This will stand
beside anything he's ever done. If he'd been slower than usual it would
have bee