the elbow, the Indian made a sound full of remonstrance, and
pointing to the wound above the wrist, signed to his attendant that he
should slit the arm right up.

"No, no," said the Doctor, smiling. "I'm not going to make a terrible
wound like that. Leave it to me."

He patted the chief on the shoulder as he spoke, and once more the
Indian subsided into a state of stolidity, as if there were nothing the
matter and he was not in the slightest pain.

Here I pause for a few moments as I say--Shall I describe what the
Doctor did to save the Indian's life, or shall I hold my hand?

I think I will go on, for there should be nothing objectionable in a few
words describing the work of a man connected with one of the noblest
professions under the sun.

There was no hesitation. With one quick, firm cut, the Doctor divided
the flesh, piercing deep down, and as he cut his knife gave a sharp
grate.

"Right on the arrowhead, Bart," he said quietly; and, withdrawing his
knife, he thrust a pair of sharp forceps into the wound, and seemed as
if he were going to drag out the arrow, but it was only to divide the
shaft. This he seized with the other forceps, and drew out of the
bleeding opening--a piece nearly five inches long, which came away
easily enough.

Then, without a moment's hesitation, he sponged the cut for a while, and
directly after, guiding them with the index finger of his left hand, he
thrust the forceps once more into the wound.

There was a slight grating noise once again, a noise that Bart, as he
manfully held the arm, seemed to feel go right through every nerve with
a peculiar thrill. Then it was evident that the Doctor had fast hold of
the arrowhead and he drew hard to take it out.

"I thought so," he said, "it is driven firmly into the bone."

As he spoke, he worked his forceps slightly to and fro, to loosen the
arrowhead, and then, bearing firmly upon it, drew it out--an ugly, keen
piece of nastily barbed iron, with a scrap of the shaft and some deer
sinew attached.

The Doctor examined it attentively to see that everything had come away,
and uttered a sigh of satisfaction, while the only sign the Indian gave
was to draw a long, deep breath.

"There, Mr Tomahawk," said the Doctor, smiling, as he held the arm over
the bowl, and bathed the injury tenderly with fresh relays of water,
till it nearly ceased bleeding; "that's better than making a cut all
along your arm, and I'll be bound to say it feels