Deep Down | Page 2

were, and still
are, sufficiently serpentine and intricate to mislead a more experienced
traveller. It soon began to dawn upon the youth's mind that he was
wandering in a wrong direction, and when he suddenly discovered a
solitary cottage on the right hand, which he had previously observed on
the left, he made up his mind to sacrifice his independence and

condescend to ask for guidance.
Lightly leaping a wall with this intent, he crossed two fields, and
stooped as he looked in at the low doorway of the cottage, from the
interior of which there issued the loud cries of a child either in great
pain or passion.
A sturdy little boy seated on a stool, and roaring like a young bull,
while an elderly woman tried to comfort him, was the sight which met
his gaze.
"Can you show me the road to St. Just?" inquired our adventurer.
"St. Just, sur?" said the woman, stepping out in front of the door, "why,
you're on the way to St. Buryan, sure. Ef you do keep on the right of
the hill over theere, you'll see the St. Just road."
A yell of unparalleled ferocity issued at this moment from the cottage,
and it was found that the noisy urchin within, overcome by curiosity,
had risen to ascertain who the stranger outside could be, and had been
arrested by a pang of agony.
"Aw dear, aw dear, my poor booy," exclaimed the woman,
endeavouring gently to press the boy down again on the stool, amid
furious roaring.
"What's wrong with him?" asked our traveller, entering the apartment.
"He's tumbled off the wall, dear booy, an' semen to me he's scat un
shoulder very bad."
"Let me have a look at him," said the youth, sitting down on the edge of
a bed which stood at one end of the room, and drawing the child
between his knees. "Come, little man, don't shout so loud; I'll put it all
right for you. Let me feel your shoulder."
To judge from the immediate result, the young man seemed to put it all
wrong instead of "all right," for his somewhat rough manipulation of

the boy's shoulder produced such a torrent of screams that the pitying
woman had much ado to restrain herself from rushing to the rescue.
"Ah!" exclaimed the youth in grey, releasing his victim; "I thought so;
he has broken his collar-bone, my good woman; not a serious matter,
by any means, but it will worry him for some time to come. Have you
got anything to make a bandage of?"
"Sur?" said the woman.
"Have you a bit of rag--an old shirt or apron?--anything will do."
The woman promptly produced a cotton shirt, which the youth tore up
into long strips. Making a pad of one of these, he placed it under the
boy's arm-pit despite of sobs and resistance. This pad acted as a
fulcrum on which the arm rested as a lever. Pressing the elbow close to
the boy's side he thus forced the shoulder outwards, and, with his left
hand, set the bone with its two broken ends together. To secure it in this
position he bound the arm pretty firmly to the boy's body, so that he
could not move a muscle of the left arm or shoulder.
"There," said the youth, assisting his patient to put on his shirt, "that
will keep all straight. You must not on any account remove the bandage
for some weeks."
"How long, sur?" exclaimed the woman in surprise.
"For some weeks; but that will depend on how the little fellow gets on.
He may go about and use his right arm as he pleases, but no more
climbing on walls for some time to come. Do you hear, little man?"
The urchin, whose pain was somewhat relieved, and who had
moderated down to an occasional deep sob, said "Iss."
"You're a doctor, sur, I think?" said the woman.
"Yes, I am; and I'll come to see you again, so be careful to attend to my
directions. Good-morning."

"Good mornin', sur, an' thank 'ee!" exclaimed the grateful dame as the
youth left the house, and, leaping the low enclosure in front of it, sped
over the moor in the direction which had been pointed out to him.
His resolution to ignore roads cost our traveller more trouble than he
had anticipated, for the moor was very rugged, the brambles vexatious,
and the spines of the gorse uncommonly sharp. Impediments of every
kind were more numerous than he had been accustomed to meet with
even on the heath-clad hills of Scotland, with which--although "the
land of the mountain and the flood" was not that of his birth--he had
from childhood been familiar.
After a good deal of vigorous leaping and resolute scrambling, he