"Oh," said the doctor, laughing; "that's dirt!" Sir James made no answer, but snatching a handkerchief from his pocket he moistened a corner between his lips, passed it over the clear skin of his son's wrist, and the dark mark passed away. "Here, Dean," said the doctor, "hands up! That's right; draw back your shirt sleeve." The boy obeyed. "Look here, Sir James," said the doctor, and he pointed with the thorn he held between the tweezers. "You see that--and that--and that?" "Oh, those are only pricks I got in the bushes, sir, the other day," said Dean sharply. "Yes, I see," said the doctor, "and you had better let me operate upon this one. It has begun to fester a little too." As he spoke the doctor pressed the little dark spot which showed beneath the boy's white skin. "Oh, you hurt!" cried Dean, flinching. "Yes, there's a thorn in there, and I see there's another half way up your arm, Mark, my lad. You had better try to pick that out with a needle. It is all a false alarm, Sir James, I am thankful to say. Snake bites are very horrible, but you must recollect that the great majority of these creatures are not furnished with poison fangs. I was in doubt, myself, at first, but the fact that the puncture was so large, and unaccompanied by another-- venomous snakes being furnished with a pair of fangs that they have the power to erect--was almost enough to prove to me that what we saw was only produced by a thorn." "I beg your pardon, doctor," said Sir James, grasping him by the hand. "I could not help thinking you were dreadfully callous and cool over what has been agony to me. I am afraid I was horribly disbelieving and annoyed." "Don't apologise, sir," replied the doctor. "I did seem to treat it all very cavalierly, but I had a reason for so doing. I wanted to put heart into my patient to counteract the remarks which were being made about snake bites and treating them by amputation. Now, Mark, do you feel well enough to handle your gun again?" "Oh, yes, quite," cried the boy, starting up; and getting possession of his rifle he raised it up, fired the remaining cartridge, and then opening the breech held it up, to treat it as a lorgnette, looking through the barrels. "There are no snakes in here now," said the boy, speaking quite cheerfully, "but the night damp has made a lot of little specks of rust." "Let me clean it, sir," cried Dan. "I'll wash out the barrels and give it a good 'iling." "Yes, do," said Mark, who began to suck his finger. "Why, I say, Mark," cried Dean, "I never thought of it before: that's the finger you asked me to get the thorn out of that day after we got back from my slip into that hole." "Eh?" exclaimed Mark, looking at him doubtfully. "Why, of course! Don't you remember?" "No," said Mark. "I feel quite stupid this morning, after this." "Try to think, my boy," cried Sir James impatiently. "It would set all our minds at rest."