"The ambulance and stores have been left behind somewhere," he said bitterly. "God damn them! We have no chloroform left--they only served us out a thimbleful, though Simpson demonstrated its absolute necessity seven years ago--curse the lot--and now a case has just come in. It's life or death and the others won't touch it, but I will. See here, I was with Esdaile in India and I know it can be done. If only I haven't the seats of the scornful by me--I think you'll believe--you haven't your face for nothing, and I must have help. Give it me?" He held out his thin nervous hands, so strangely full of grip, as he spoke; his eyes found hers and held them. "I will give you what I can," she said at once. "That's right!" he replied, his buoyancy back in an instant. "But you will need all your nerve, I tell you. Now help me to get the poor fellow into position." "Let me die, doctor," moaned the patient, who lay on the doctor's truckle bed. "It is agony to move." "No, it isn't!" replied Dr. Forsyth firmly. "You are making a mistake. You have no pain, at least not much, and you are going to lose it altogether soon. There! That's more comfortable, isn't it?" He was busy now arranging knives and instruments on a clean towel. "I've put them in the order I shall want them," he whispered, "and don't be in a hurry--I shall want time. Now I'm going to mesmerise him. You'll see he will pass into a deep sleep and feel no pain--none at all." It was almost as if he were assuring himself that it would be so. An atmosphere of quiet confidence seemed to emanate from him. Marrion found herself watching his passes with absolute faith, listening to the quiet monotonous voice with absolute belief. "Now you are really feeling better--you are inclined to sleep--if you close your eyes you will go to sleep." On and on went the voice insistently. The breathing grew slower, less convulsive; the eyelids closed, and all the time the doctor's face was as the face of the Angel of Death--kind, but relentless. "Now we can begin," he said at last, resuming his quick decision. "You won't faint, will you?" he added doubtfully, with a glance at Marrion's pale cheek. "I don't think so," she replied; "but _that_ seemed to hurt here." She swept her hand across her forehead. He scanned her narrowly. "Umph!" he said, half to himself. "You'll make an excellent _aide_, I expect. So now to business." It was an awful operation. One impossible while consciousness remained; but possible enough with the absolute stillness and lack of hurry that unconsciousness brings. And so far it was successful. "He will sleep for some hours yet," said Dr. Forsyth, as he sorted his implements. "You needn't stay with him all the time. Make yourself useful elsewhere, but look in and bring me word when he wakes." There was not one word of thanks; only as he left the tent he paused to say-- "The lad was a great favourite of the colonel's. I'm glad we saved him."