“Sulphas Zinci--Stomach, Arteri, pump, otomy-must--legs--hot-toddy--to bleed him--lectricity--hot blister--flat-irons--open his--windpipe but still I said never a word, but rubbed his feet, wondering whether I would ever acquire as much knowledge as my fellow students showed the possession of. By the by, I was the only one that was doing anything for the patient, the others being too busy discussing the case to attend to the administration of any one of the remedies proposed. “I say stimulate, the system is sinking,” screamed a tall, stout-looking student, as the Indian slid down towards the foot of the bed. “Bleeding is manifestly and clearly indicated,” retorted a bitter rival in love as well as medicine, “his muscular action is too excessive,” as Tubba made an ineffectual effort to throw his body up to the top of the mosquito bar. “Bleeding would be as good as murder,” said Number 1. “Better cut his throat than stimulate him,” said Number 2. “Pshaw!” “Fudge!” “Sir!” “Fellow!” “Fool!” “Liar!” Yim! Yim! and stomach-pump and brandy bottle flashed like meteors. “Fight! fight! form a ring! fair play!” “You're holding my friend.” “You lie! You rascal!” Vim! Vim! from a new brace of combatants. “He's gouging my brother! I must help! foul play!” “Let go my hair!” Vim! Vim! and a triplet went at it. I stopped rubbing, and looked on with amazement. “Gentlemen, this is unprofessional! 'tis undignified! 'tis disgraceful! stop, I command you!” I yelled, but no one regarded me; some one struck me, and away I pitched into the whole lot promiscuously, having no partner, the patient dying on the bed whilst we were studying out his case. “Fight! fight!” I heard yelled in the street, as I had finished giving a lick all round, and could hardly keep pitching into the mirror to whip my reflection, I wanted a fight so bad. “Fight! fight! in D-5s back office!” and here came the whole town to see the fun. “I command the peace!” yelled Dick Locks; “I'm the mayor.” “And I'm the hoss for you!” screamed I, doubling him up with a lick in the stomach, which he replied to by laying me on my back, feeling very faint, in the opposite corner of the room. “I command the peace!” continued Dick, flinging one of the combatants out of the window, another out of the door, and so on alternately, until the peace was preserved by nearly breaking its infringers to pieces. “What in the devil, Mr. Tensas, does this mean?” said my preceptor, who at that moment came in; “what does all this fighting, and that drunken Indian lying in your bed, mean? have you all been drunk?” “He has poisoned himself, sir, in my absence, with the solution of arsenic, which he took for whiskey; and as all the doctors were out of town, I called in the students, and they got to fighting over him whilst consulting;” I replied, very indignantly, enraged at the insinuation that we had been drinking.