"We are a pair of storks now," he said, smiling at Curtis, and then he fainted away. Curtis cut the trouser from the wounded leg. A ball had struck the shin. "It's not badly splintered, old man," said the American, as Michali opened his eyes again. "I don't know anything about surgery, but I should think the proper thing would be to wash it, support it with some splints and bind it up tight. Shall I try it?" "What you need?" asked Michali. "Some warm water, two or three straight sticks and a piece of cloth that I can tear up into strips." The wounded man called for the necessary articles and they were soon brought. Curtis washed the blood away carefully. The end of a piece of bone pushed against the skin from beneath and made a sharp protuberance. "I'm awfully sorry, old man, but I've got to hurt you--like the devil, I'm afraid." "All right, my friend," replied Michali, "only do not be long." "No, only a minute. Here, lie on your back. That's right. Now take hold of the sides of the lounge and hang on tight. That'll help you. I know it from having teeth filled. Now, tell this old man to take hold of your ankle so, with both hands, and pull, slowly, carefully, till I say 'stop,' and not to commence pulling till I say 'now.' You'd better explain--your Greek is some better than mine." Michali explained. "Does he understand?" "Perfectly." Curtis put his hand about the broken shin in such a way that he could push the fragment of bone into place. "This can't be wrong," he reflected. "At any rate, there's nothing else to do." Looking at the old man he nodded. "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" gurgled Michali, as though the words were being pulled from his throat with a hook. There was so much agony in them, they meant so much more than the screams of a weaker person would have meant, that the amateur surgeon felt sick at his stomach and it cost him a tremendous effort to see through a sort of blindness that settled like a cloud before his eyes. But the two ends of the bone came together and he resolutely pushed the splinter into place. Still holding the leg tightly he looked at Michali. Great drops of sweat were standing on the Cretan's face and his underlip was bleeding, but he smiled bravely. "All over," said Curtis. "Now for the sticks and the strips." Fortunately for the success of the operation the boy who had led the mule was outside, giving an account of the progress of the battle. He proved a greater attraction even than the broken leg. Curtis, finding himself alone with his patient, shut and locked the door. "Does it hurt you very much, old man?" he asked. "I suppose the proper thing now would be to give you something to put you to sleep. Don't you think you could sleep a little while anyway?" "No, no, I cannot sleep. It hurts me some, but not much--not too much."