your arm in a sling?"

"Oh, that, sir? That's a bit of the doctor's nonsense. He said I was
to keep it on, so I suppose I must. But it isn't a wound."

"What is it, then?" said Denham sharply.

"Bullet cut my finger; that's all."

"Did it cut it much?" asked Denham.

"Took a little bit off, and I went to the doctor for a piece o'
sticking-plaster, and he as good as called me a fool."

"What did you say, then, to make him?"

"I said nothing, sir, only that I wanted the plaster."

"Did he give you some?"

"No, sir; but I suppose he wanted to try his new bag o' tools, and got
hold of me. `Hold still,' he says, `or I shall give you chloroform.'
`Can't you make it a drop o' whisky, sir?' I says. `Yes, if you behave
yourself,' he says. `Look here, I can't plaster up a place like this.
Your finger's in rags, and the bone's in splinters.' `Oh, it'll soon
grow together, sir,' I says. `Nothing of the kind, sir,' he says;
`it'll go bad if I don't make a clean job of it. Now then, shut your
eyes, and sit still in that chair. I won't hurt you much.'"

"Did he?" said Denham.

"Pretty tidy, sir; just about as much as he could. He takes out a tool
or two, and before I knew where I was he'd made a clean cut or two and
taken off some more of my finger, right down to the middle joint.
`There,' he says, as soon as he'd put some cotton-wool soaked with nasty
stuff on the place, after sewing and plastering it up--`there, that'll
heal up quickly and well now!'"

"Of course," said Denham. "Made a clean job of it."

"Clean job, sir?" said the Sergeant. "Well, yes, he did it clean
enough, and so was the lint and stuff; but it's made my finger so ugly.
It looks horrid. I say, sir, do you think the finger'll grow again?"

"No, Briggs, I don't; so you must make the best of it."

"But crabs' and lobsters' claws grow again, sir; for I've seen 'em do it
at home, down in Cornwall."

"Yes; but we're not crabs and lobsters, Sergeant. There, never mind
about such a bit of a wound as that."

"I don't, sir--not me; but it do look ugly, and feels as awkward as if
I'd lost an arm. There, I must be off, sir. I've got to see to our
poor fellows who are to go off in a wagon back to the town."

"How many were hurt?" said Denham eagerly.

"Five; and pretty badly, too."

"Any one--" Then Denham stopped short.

"No, sir, not one, thank goodness; but those lads won't be on horseback
again these two months to come. Doctor w