and attributes extremely wonderful.

We had just arisen from our breakfast when a buggy drove rapidly up to
the house, and stopped; and we heard the voice of Doctor Castleton,
shouting something to the old miner, who had gone forth a moment before
to care for Bainbridge's horse.




The SEVENTH Chapter


Doctor Castleton entered the sick-room with his usual impetuosity,
saluting us jointly in an off-hand but courteous manner as he crossed
the floor to the bedside of Peters, and took one of the invalid's wrists
in his hand.

"Ah," he said; "better! The quinine of yesterday has done its work; the
bed-time dose of calomel has gone through the liver and stirred up that
enemy of human health and happiness, the bile; and the morning dose of
salts will, beyond a peradventure, soon be heard from. Now we will throw
the whiskey toddy into him, and plenty of it, too; and--yes, we'll go on
with the quinine, repeat the calomel to-night, and have him ready for
something else by to-morrow."

Now I never like to mention doubtful incidents in such a manner as to
suggest my own belief in them; but I then suspected, and I am now
morally certain, that Doctor Bainbridge had, in assuming the care of
Peters, failed to execute medical orders, and had administered only