"My willing soul would stay
In such a place as this,
And--"

when suddenly his cup of bliss was clashed to the ground, for Billy,
stumbling, fell upon his own knife, and received a severe cut in the
abdomen.

Wounds of this sort are generally fatal, and the boys had experience
enough in such matters to know it. In an instant the men who had been
calmly viewing a life-and-death conflict bestirred themselves to help
the sufferer. Pentecost passed the bottle of brandy over the counter;
half a dozen men ran to the spring for cold water; others hastily tore
off coats, and even shirts, with which to soften a bench for the wounded
man. No one went for the Doctor, for that worthy had been viewing the
fight professionally from the first, and had knelt beside the wounded
man at exactly the right moment. After a brief examination, he gave his
opinion in the following professional style:

"No go, Billy; you're done for."

"Good God!" exclaimed the Judge, who had watched the Doctor with
breathless interest; "ain't ther' no chance?"

"Nary," replied the Doctor, decidedly.

"I'm a ruined man--I'm a used-up cuss," said the Judge, with a look of
bitter anguish. "I wish I'd gone under, too."