docthor, who'd been anatomisin' a dead bullock. Love-o'-Women
starts to go on quick, an' lands me a kick on the knee while his
legs was gettin' into marchin' ordher.

"Hould on there,' sez the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women's face, that
was lined like a gridiron, turns red as brick.

"'Tention,' says the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women stud so. 'Now
shut your eyes,' sez the docthor. 'No, ye must not hould by your
comrade.'

"'Tis all up,' sez Love-o'-Women, trying to smile. 'I'd fall,
docthor, an' you know ut.'

"'Fall?' I sez. 'Fall at attention wid your eyes shut! Fwhat do
you mane?'

"The docthor knows,' he sez. 'I've hild up as long as I can, but
begad I'm glad 'tis all done. But I will die slow,' he sez, 'I
will die very slow.'

"I cud see by the docthor's face that he was mortial sorry for the
man, an' he ordhered him to hospital. We wint back together, an' I
was dumbstruck; Love-o'-Women was cripplin' and crumblin' at ivry
step. He walked wid a hand on my shoulder all slued sideways, an'
his right leg swingin' like a lame camel. Me not knowin' more than
the dead fwhat ailed him, 'twas just as though the docthor's word
had done ut all - as if Love-o'-Women had but been waitin' for the
ordher to let go.