Swift and sure moved Leaver’s hands, obeying the swift, sure working of his brain.  There was not a moment’s indecision.  More than one moment of deliberation there was, but Burns, watching, knew as well as if his friend had been a part of himself that the brief pauses in his work were a part of the work itself, and meant that as his task unfolded before him he stopped to weigh feasible courses, choosing with unerring judgment the better of two possible alternatives, and proceeding with the confidence essential to the unfaltering touch.  As Burns beheld the process pass the point of greatest danger and approach conclusion, he felt somewhat as a man may who, unable to help, watches a swimmer breasting tremendous seas, and sees him win past the last smother of breakers and make his way into calmer waters.  He was conscious that he himself had been breathing shallowly as he watched, and now drew several deep inspirations of relief.

“By George, that was the gamest thing I ever saw,” thought Burns, exultingly.  “He hasn’t shown the slightest sign of flinching.  And Amy Mathewson—­she’s played up to every move like a little second brain of his.”

He looked at the small clock on a shelf of the surgery, and his head swam.  “He’s outdone himself,” he nearly cried aloud.  “This will stand beside anything he’s ever done.  If he’d been slower than usual it would have been only natural, after this interval, but he’s been faster.  Oh, but I’m glad—­glad!”

The event was over.  Both Leaver and Burns, no longer under the necessity of avoiding contact with things unsterilized, felt the small patient’s pulse and nodded at each other.  The assistants bore Jamie Ferguson’s little inert body away, Miss Dodge attending.

Dr. Leaver turned to Miss Mathewson.  He drew off the masking gauze from his head, showing a flushed, moist face and eyes a little bloodshot.  But his voice was as quiet as ever as he said: 

“I’ve never had finer assistance from any one, Miss Mathewson.  If you had been trained to work opposite me you couldn’t have done better.”

“You work much like Dr. Burns,” she said, modestly.  “That made it easy.”

Burns burst into a smothered laugh.  “That’s the biggest compliment I’ve had for a good while,” said he.

As they dressed, neither man said much.  But when coats were on, and the two were ready to go to Jamie’s room, they turned each to the other.

“Well, old man?” Burns was smiling like the sunshine itself into his friend’s eyes.  “I think I never was so happy in my life.”

“I know you’re happy,” said the other man.  “I don’t believe I’ll trust myself yet to tell you what I am.”

“Don’t try.  We won’t talk it over just yet.  But I’ve got to say this, Jack:  You never did a more masterly job in your life.”

Leaver smiled—­and shivered.  “I’m glad it’s over,” said he.

They went down to Jamie’s room, and there, on either side of the high hospital cot, watched consciousness returning.  With consciousness presently came pain.