was visible. Nothing serious, and only a flesh wound. The man inhaled
the chloroform and ether fumes without choking or struggling. His wound
was excised, "spirit bipped," dressed and bandaged. Then he was whisked
off the table and carried away to a ward.

In the doorway appeared a man with his arm in a sling. He was dazzled by
the electric light and put his hand over his eyes. Captain Wycherley
called out to him: "Come along, my lad, and hop on to this table." He
walked up to the table with uncertain steps. An orderly helped him on to
it. He lay back and turned his head to one side and looked towards the
next table on which Captain Calthrop was amputating an arm. It came off
in the hands of an orderly who dropped it into the bucket. The newcomer
followed it with horror-stricken eyes. He continued to gaze, as though
fascinated, at the half-closed hand that projected above the edge of the
bucket. Then he trembled violently.

Captain Wycherley observed what was happening and said:

"Come on, don't worry about the next man. Let's have a look at your
wound."

"Yer not goin' ter take orf me arm, are yer, sir?"

"No, of course not, don't be so silly!"

"Yer won't 'urt me, sir, will yer?"

"No, no. Pull yourself together now. Be a man! You won't feel anything
at all."