Then he cleaned the wound thoroughly, and with a frank brutality drenched it with turpentine, as he would have done with a horse or a dog; for this burning liquid was the only thing at hand to aid him.

His own eyes grew moist as he saw the twitching of the burned tissues under this infliction, but his hand was none the less steady.

The edge of the great table was splintered where Dunwody's hands had grasped it.
The flesh on the inside of his fingers was broken loose under his grip.

Blood dripped also from his hands.
"I'm only a backwoods doctor, Dunwody," said Jamieson at length, as he began rebandaging the limb.

"I reckon there's a heap of good surgeons up North that could make a finer job of this.