Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 381: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

374 THE ARGOSY. Bardoff arose, shouldered his burden, and staggered on toward the haven of refuge. He saw nothing but the yellow lights of the hospital corps in the centre of the stockade. When he was recognized in the somber light, a shout went up that shook the earth like a volcano, but the prince scarcely heard it. He kept on till he reached the hospital corps, where he fell all in a heap among the wounded in the center of the camp. “ Save her!” he moaned. ‘“ For God’s sake, save her.” The man with his sleeves rolled up dropped by the frail figure in the sand and glanced into her face. “Save her?” he answered scornfully. “ Why, man, she’s dead!” ‘Dead, you say’—dead?” the Russian gasped hoarsely. The surgeon did not answer. He was tearing the gibbeh from Dorothy’s neck and bosom. Bardoff misinterpreted his silence, and sMatched up a revolver. He put the muzzle against his heart. ‘‘ Seize that man! He’s killing himself!” shouted an officer. Some one dashed the weapon from Bardoff’s weak hand just as it exploded. The bullet grazed the flesh. Then, utterly exhausted, he rolled over and was still. The semicircle about them was in a wild uproar. The routing of the der- vishes was forgotten. | “ Cameron—ho, Cameron! ” called out a surgeon. “ For the love of God, what kind of a wound is this?’”’ He was examining an elongated scratch. much inflamed and swollen, under the right shoulder blade of the frail femi- nine form on the warm sand. The expert surgeon dashed over, falling by the still form. “ Why, she’s dead, isn’t she?” he said testily. “No.” said the other. “There is heart action yet; but it’s weak—mighty weak.” The expert was examining the wound with critical care. “ Lights!” he cried. “It’s from a poisoned dagger,” he said. “ Treat with strong antisep- tic, then bromides and brandy. Get her drunk—artificial respiration—every - thing. God knows you'll have to be mighty quick about it. She won't last much longer.”’ It was the gray of the morning when Dorothy opened her eyes and stared about her. “ Where is he?” she gasped. “ Where?” “Who?” asked a kindly voice. “The prince—my poor comrade? You left him there—dead, on the field? © “Calm yourself,” was the quiet reply. ‘There he is—in the cot. He hasn’t come to yet.” “Then he lives—he lives! Tell me that.” The young surgeon nodded. Dorothy murmured something, then lay back upon her pillow. CHapter XXXV.—By Way or Contrast. On the deck of the hospital ship off Quarantine Islaad in the bay of Sua- kim some weeks after the riotous events of the last chapter, a fair young con- COM @ DOOKS.EO