aken
no sleep at all. "I don't see how the Doctor stands what he goes
through," said the man. "Yesterday the whole day long he was in the
thick of it; he was in as great danger as the troops were; lots more
than some of 'em. He said that the rebels wouldn't try to hit him; but
for my part I wouldn't trust one of 'em as far as I could fling a bull
by the tail; and him a tendin' to 'em just like they was our own men."

This was not the first I had heard of the Doctor's disregard of danger.
At Bull Run he was known to follow a charge and assist the wounded as
they fell. I supposed that there was no use expostulating with a man who
so firmly believed in the peculiar doctrines of his philosophy.

About nightfall he came into the tent, rubbing his hands.

"Good evening, Jones. I expected to see you here. I suppose you think
you are going to stay with me several days?"

"Why do you suppose so, Doctor?"

"Oh, by this and that. Your brigade will have nothing to do this side of
the Chickahominy."

"I don't know anything about the Chickahominy," I replied.

"You will know."

"The brigade can be easy for some time, then?"

"Any man can be easy for some time if he has been ordered on special
duty not to be demanded for some time."

"You know about my case?"

"Yes."

Dr. Khayme looked surprisingly fresh after having undergone such arduous
labours; indeed, this little man's physical endurance and his mental
power were to me matters for astonishment equally great.

"Doctor," I said, "I hear you have been working very hard. You need rest
and sleep."

"Well," said he, "when I need rest I rest; when I need sleep I sleep;
just now I want supper."

After we had eaten he filled his pipe, and settled himself on a
camp-stool. He got more comfort out of a camp-stool than any other man
in the world. As I saw him sitting there, puffing slowly, his eyes
filled with intelligent pleasure, his impassive features in perfect
repose, I thought he looked the picture of contentment.

I asked about Lydia.

"Lydia will not rejoin me yet," said, he; "she wishes to be with me, but
I prefer that she should remain in the hospital at Hampton until the
army is concentrated. You will have some marching to do before you have
any more fighting, and I don't think I'll send for her yet."

"I suppose she can do as much good where she is," I said.

"Yes, and save herself the worry of frequent marches. She can come to me
when things are settled.