arm," he said, with intention to explain his
failure to salute his superior.

"Humph!" said the surgeon; "you have another hand."

"An' it's not the rigulation to saloot with yer left," said the
Irishman, with a grin, while the patients around us began to smile.

"How did it happen?" said the surgeon.

"I was shot in the shoulder," answered the patient, "about three months
ago, sir. I haven't stirred it since."

The surgeon looked at the scar.

"So recently?" said he. "The scar looks older; and, by the way,
doctor,"--to his junior,--"it could not have gone near the nerves. Bring
the battery, orderly."

In a few moments the surgeon was testing one after another, the
various muscles. At last he stopped. "Send this man away with the next
detachment. Not a word, my man. You are a rascal, and a disgrace to
honest men who have been among bullets."

The man muttered something, I did not hear what.

"Put this man in the guard-house," cried the surgeon, and so passed on
without smile or frown.

As to the ulcer case, to my amusement he was put in bed, and his leg
locked up in a wooden splint, which effectually prevented him from
touching the part diseased. It healed in ten days, and he too went as
food for powder.

The surgeon asked me a few questions, and requesting to be sent for
during my next fit, left me alone.

I was, of course, on my guard, and took care to have my attacks only
during his absence, or to have them over before he arrived. At length,
one morning, in spite of my care, he chanced to enter the ward as I fell
on the floor. I was laid on the bed, apparently in strong convulsions.
Presently I felt a finger on my eyelid, and as it was raised, saw the
surgeon standing beside me. To escape his scrutiny I became more violent
in my motions. He stopped a moment and looked at me steadily. "Poor
fellow!" said he, to my great relief, as I felt at once that I had
successfully deceived him. Then he turned to the ward doctor and
remarked: "Take care he does not hurt his head against the bed; and, by
the by, doctor, do you remember the test we applied in Carstairs's
case? Just tickle the soles of his feet and see if it will cause those
backward spasms of the head."

The aid obeyed him, and, very naturally, I jerked my head backward as
hard as I could.

"That will answer," said the surgeon, to my horror. "A clever rogue.
Send him to the guard-house."

Happy had I been had my ill luck ended here, but as I cros