was liked apparently because he was so likable.  At a certain cot the chief surgeon stopped and said, “We did not expect this boy to live through the night.”  He took the boy’s wrist between his thumb and finger, and asked tenderly as he leaned over him, “Poco mejor?” The boy could not speak to say that he was a little better; he tried to smile—­such things do move the witness; nor does the sight of a man whose bandaged cheek has been half chopped away by a machete tend to restore one’s composure.