The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



wrong. My fear was that Jack would collapse 

 from sheer loss of blood and exhaustion, and for 

 this reason I plied him with the only stimulant 

 I had brandy. The doctor usually lived at 

 the eighty-mile peg, away up the line, in the 

 hills. It was odds against his being about, as he 

 did not come to Fontesvilla once a month unless 

 specially sent for, but as luck would have it, he 

 had arrived that afternoon, as it was a Sunday. 

 The long and the short of it was that he operated 

 on the leg, but he had to do so more than once, 

 as the bone was splintered right up to the knee, 

 Jack unfortunately succumbing from the shock. 

 I cannot imagine what I should have done had 

 not the doctor been there. It would have taken 

 some hours to have brought him to Fontesvilla, 

 even had he been at home and not on a visit to 

 some patient. I might have been obliged to 

 take the man's leg off myself. I had the neces- 

 sary antiseptics and bandages, and would, fail- 

 ing every other means of saving his life, have 

 attempted the task of amputation. I had on 

 that short trip back to the township decided 

 that I would take the leg off at the knee if I had 

 been compelled to try. For I was certain that 

 a pinch such as that caused by the hawser must 

 have smashed the leg-bone into splinters. 

 Thank goodness ! I had not to attempt the task, 

 but it might very easily have been otherwise. 

 As I have previously said, the line ended on 



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