I knew there was a doctor's two streets off, and I ran to where the red bull's-eye in the lamp shone out like a danger signal; rang the night-bell; heard a window above me open, and, after explaining my business and what was the matter, the medical man promised to come. I ran back to find that Revitts had not moved, but that my attempts to bandage his wounds had proved to be ineffectual. I did what more I could, though, and then sat horror-stricken and silent, holding the poor fellow's hand, speaking to him at intervals, but eliciting nothing but a moan. It seemed as if the doctor would never come, and I was about to rouse up some of the people in the house when I heard the bell, and ran to admit him. He looked curiously at me as I stood there, candle in hand, and as I closed the door he said gruffly: "A drunken fall, I suppose?" "Oh no, sir," I said hastily. "Mr Revitts never drinks." "Humph?" he ejaculated; and I led him up to where Revitts sat. "Policeman, eh?" said the doctor; "this is a job for the surgeon to the division, my man. Mustn't leave him to bleed to death, though." He slipped off his coat, and, exerting his strength, lifted poor Revitts on to the bed, after which he removed my bandages and made an examination. "Hold the candle nearer, boy, nearer still. That's right. You won't singe his hair. If you do it won't matter, for I must clip it off short. Humph! some one has given him a pretty topper with a thick stick, and he must have fallen with his head on the edge of a step. Terrible cuts?" "But will they kill him, sir?" I faltered, feeling quite sick at the sight of the wounds. "We won't let them, my man. Come, hold up, you mustn't, let that turn you faint." "I--I won't, sir," I said. "That's right, my man. Nothing like a little will and determination. We men must leave fainting to the girls. That's right; basin and sponge and towel. We'll soon put him straight. Now that case out of my pocket. That's well. Hold the candle nearer. No snuffers? Well, use your fingers. Dirty trick, but handy--fingery, I ought to say." He kept on talking--half-playfully, while with his bright scissors he clipped the hair away close from Revitts' forehead, and then, cutting up some plaister in strips, he rapidly bandaged the cuts, after bringing the edges of the wounds together with a few stitches from a needle and some silk. "Poor fellow! he has got a sad knocking about," the doctor said kindly, for now the annoyance at being called out of bed was over he was deeply interested in his case. "I wonder some of his fellow-constables did not take him to the hospital. Where did you find him?" I told him how I was astonished by finding Revitts at my bedside. "Ah yes, I see," he said. "Hurt and half-insensible, and nature intervenes. Education says, Take him to the hospital; instinct bids him, animal-like, creep to his hole to die." "To die, sir?" I cried, catching his hand.