yesterday," added Dr. Scoville, with an expression of malignant triumph
on his face.

This reply was a damper on any little scheme which the over-confident De
Banyan had proposed to carry out; but the captain was a profound student
in the mysteries of human nature, and at once correctly read the
character of the gentleman who stood before him.

"You didn't see me yesterday, and you know you didn't," he replied in
tones hardly less savage than those of his involuntary host.

"That's very true; I did not," said the doctor.

"This point settled, I'll thank you to turn to the next one, which is the
patient before you."

"You are a plain-spoken man," added Dr. Scoville, still gazing intently
into the face of the captain; who, however, returned the look as
resolutely and as earnestly as it was given.

"I am; I don't waste words when my friend is dying, for aught I know.
Will you attend to this man?"

"Who is he?"

"He is a man shot through the arm, and needing instant surgical
attendance," answered De Banyan impatiently. "It isn't necessary to know
any more before you examine him."

"Good!" exclaimed the doctor with a smile such as that in which a hyena
might be supposed to indulge when pleased, if hyenas ever are pleased.

He turned to Somers, and proceeded to examine into his condition. The
coat of the patient was removed from his insensible form, and he was
carefully disposed on the sofa, according to the directions of the
doctor; the captain and the negro women assisting in the work. Though the
surgeon was as rough as a bear in his tone and manner, he was as tender
as a loving mother in his treatment of the sufferer, and handled him as
carefully as though he had been a new-born babe. The blood was stanched,
and the wound dressed as skilfully as human hands and human knowledge
could perform the operation.

"What do you think of him?" asked De Banyan, full of anxiety for his
suffering companion.

"He won't die just yet; but he may lose his arm."

"Good heavens! do you think so?" exclaimed the captain.

"No; I don't think so."

"What did you say so for, then?"

"I didn't say so."

"Didn't you say he would lose his arm?" demanded De Banyan savagely.

"I didn't say so."

"What did you say, then?"

"I said he might lose his arm. You may lose your arm; but I think you are
more likely to lose your head. Who is this young man?"

"He is a friend of mine; and, as I find it necessary to be entirely
candid