There was plenty of work for all and the worry and long hours might have broken down the health and strength of Beth and Maud had not the doctor instituted regular periods of duty for each member of the force and insisted on the schedule being carried out.

This hospital ship was by no means so gloomy a place as the reader may imagine.  The soldiers were prone to regard their hurts lightly, as “a bit of hard luck,” and since many had slight injuries it was customary for them to gather in groups upon the deck, where they would laugh and chat together, play cards for amusement or smoke quantities of cigarettes.  They were mainly kind-hearted and grateful fellows and openly rejoiced that the misfortunes of war had cast their lot on this floating hospital.

Under the probe of the surgeon to-day, a fortnight hence back on the firing line, was not very unusual with these brave men.  The ambulances had gathered in a few German soldiers, who would become prisoners of war on their recovery, and while these were inclined to be despondent and unsociable they were treated courteously by all, the Americans showing no preference for any nation.  The large majority of the patients, however, came from the ranks of the Allies—­French, English and Belgian—­and these were men who could smile and be merry with bandaged heads, arms a-sling, legs in splints, bullet holes here and there, such afflictions being regarded by their victims with a certain degree of pride.

Dr. Gys was in his element, for now he had ample opportunity to display his skill and his patients were unable to “jump to another doctor” in case his ugly features revolted them.  His main interest, however, lay in the desperately wounded Belgian private, Andrew Denton, whom he had agreed to keep alive until the return of Miss Doyle and her uncle.

In making this promise Gys had figured on a possible delay of several days, but on the second day following Patsy’s departure the sudden sinking of his patient aroused a defiant streak in the surgeon and he decided to adopt drastic measures in order to prevent Denton from passing away before his wife’s arrival.

“I want you to assist me in a serious operation,” he said to Maud Stanton.  “By all the rules and precedents of human flesh, that fellow Denton ought to succumb to his wound within the next three hours.  The shell played havoc with his interior and I have never dared, until now, to attempt to patch things up; but if we’re going to keep him alive until morning, or until your cousin’s return, we must accomplish the impossible.”

“What is that?” she inquired.

“Remove his vital organs, tinker them up and put them back so they will work properly.”

“Can that be done, doctor?”

“I think not.  But I’m going to try it.  I am positive that if we leave him alone he has less than three hours of life remaining; so, if we fail, Miss Stanton, as it is reasonable to expect, poor Denton will merely be spared a couple of hours of pain.  Get the anaesthetics, please.”