I readily complied with the request, and the doctor continued,—­“There’s no raison in the world for ye to be inemies now.  Your friend has had a pop at the lieutenant here, and, I’m sorry to say, he’s got the worse of it, although it’s about time, for Wattles has been mighty lucky in these things, and was hardly ever hit afore.”

Here the wounded man opened his eyes, and uttered a suppressed groan; whether at the recollection of his numerous duels, or because the doctor wrenched his arm, is more than I can tell.

“Ah, man, don’t groan, for it’s only a broken arm ye have; but I’ll tell ye privately that it’s yer life it would have been, had the American been disposed to take it, for a divil a fear but he put the bullet jist where he intended.  I saw, the instant he raised the rifle, that it was only a flesh wound he wished, and that he didn’t know whether to pop ye on the right or left arm.  Here, swallow that, and see if it don’t put the life into ye, and make ye open yer eyes and sing psalms.”

The doctor emptied a teaspoonful of cordial into the wounded man’s mouth, and its strength must have been very beneficial, for he opened his eyes, a healthy color came to his face, and he spoke without any painful effort.

“Ah, a divil a fear is there of ye now, and if I can save the arm, ye’ll be at it again in less than six months,” muttered the doctor, as he applied a balm to the wound, and then covered it with lint.

“There is no fear of that, is there, doctor?” asked Wattles, who was a youngster not more than twenty-two years of age.

“I’ll do all that I can; but rifle bullets are different intirely than pistol balls.  It’s many’s the good wound I’ve cured made by the latter, and well ye knows it, Wattles; but who’d have suspected ye of fighting with murdering rifles?”

The young officer made no reply, and the doctor, tearing a piece of linen cloth into strips about two inches wide, continued working and talking at the same time.

The bandages were all tied on, and Smith had been sent after the driver of the carriage to tell him to bring his vehicle as near as possible, so that the wounded man could enter without exerting himself to walk.  While we were waiting, Wattles looked at me, and a grim smile crossed his face, as he said,—­

“Your friend is in luck to-day, sir.”

“If you think that he considers it luck because you are wounded, you are mistaken,” I replied.

“He had the advantage in the use of a weapon with which he is accustomed, and therefore I did not expect a favorable result.  Had we used pistols, he would now be occupying my place.”

“Ah, have done with your boasting, lieutenant, and think no more of the quarrel.  Ye challenged the gentleman, and he accepted and chose his weapons; and it’s mighty lucky ye may think yourself to get off with life, for he could have killed ye as easily as a kangaroo.  It’s myself that knows he could have done it,” said the surgeon, warmly.