He turned on his heel and left the room, as Swartz and the surgeon entered it. The latter, a tall, gaunt Scotchman with an exasperating precision and judicial slowness of manner, began to examine his patient carefully; it seemed as if he never would have done. Then he turned to Gervase and spoke almost for the first time since he had entered the room. “Wherefore did you drive the puir laddie sae hard? Less would have done. You young callants have no sense.” “Will he die?” said Gervase eagerly. “How can I tell you that? I´m no´ a prophet, but I´m thinking his vitals have not been touched. These small swords make clean work; they´re no´ effectual like the pike or the broad sword--and he was a likely lad. I think we may even bring him round yet, but he must not be stirred. Have ye not unco´ guid sport outside that ye must begin to throttle ither within?” “God knows that is true, but you do not understand.” “Nae doubt, nae doubt,” answered the other drily, “but I understand the lad has gotten a whinger through his body, and that is a fact anybody can understand. Howsoever the care of the body is my concern, and my two hands are full enough. I´m tell´t you´re mighty quick with your weapon, Mr. Orme.” “This is none of my work,” said Gervase. “I would have given my right hand to prevent it.” The surgeon looked doubtfully at Swartz who stood near with his hands behind his back. “Why! that body there--but it is none of my business. We´ll even make him comfortable now and we can talk more about it in the morn, for I´m thinking they must hear of this work outside. This bonny lassie will be my care next,” he continued, turning to Dorothy. “This is no place for you, my dear,” he said, laying his large hand with a rough sympathy on her shoulder. “Indeed I could rest nowhere else in the world. Do you think he will live?” “I´m sure he´ll no´ die if your sweet heart will save him. He´s a gay, likely lad and he´ll give a deal of trouble in the world yet before he leaves it, if he keeps clear of small swords in the future.” “Thank God for that!” cried Dorothy, bursting into tears for the first time. Saunderson looked at her with a grim smile on his homely features. “Women sometimes thank God for unco´ little. But he´ll do for the now, and I´ll be back in an hour. Come, Mr. Orme, you´ll see me to the door, for I have some directions to give you and my time is precious.”