die like vermin, and of this Peter Blood had an example almost at
the very outset.

With the assistance of one of the negroes sent to the shed for the
purpose, he was in the act of setting a broken leg, when a deep,
gruff voice, that he had come to know and dislike as he had never
disliked the voice of living man, abruptly challenged him.

"What are you doing there?"

Blood did not look up from his task. There was not the need. He
knew the voice, as I have said.

"I am setting a broken leg," he answered, without pausing in his
labours.

"I can see that, fool." A bulky body interposed between Peter Blood
and the window. The half-naked man on the straw rolled his black
eyes to stare up fearfully out of a clay-coloured face at this
intruder. A knowledge of English was unnecessary to inform him that
here came an enemy. The harsh, minatory note of that voice
sufficiently expressed the fact. "I can see that, fool; just as I
can see what the rascal is. Who gave you leave to set Spanish legs?"

"I am a doctor, Colonel Bishop. The man is wounded. It is not for
me to discriminate. I keep to my trade."

"Do you, by God! If you'd done that, you wouldn't now be here."

"On the contrary, it is because I did it that I am here."