I felt about me an infinite kindness and carefulness and
pitying--oh, then I learned that life, after all, is not wholly
war--that there is such a thing as fellow-suffering and loving kindness
and a wish to aid others to survive in this hard fight of living; I knew
that very well. But I did not gain it from the touch of my surgeon's
hands.
The immediate pain of this long cutting which laid open my neck for some
inches through the side muscles was less after the point of the blade
went through and ceased to push forward. Deeper down I did not feel so
much, until finally a gentle searching movement produced a jar strangely
large, something which grated, and nearly sent all the world black
again. I knew then that the knife was on the base of the arrow head;
then I could feel it move softly and gently along the side of the arrow
head--I could almost see it creep along in this delicate part of the
work.
Then, all at once, I felt one hand removed from my neck. Orme, half
rising from his stooping posture, but with the fingers of his left hand
still at the wound, said: "Belknap, let go one of his hands. Just put
your hand on this knife-blade, and feel that artery throb! Isn't it
curious?"
I heard some muttered answer, but the grasp at my wrists did not relax.
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