But the mother, in the
ruthless unbearableness of her pain, wanted something done, anything.
An Irishman in the company, who had served six months as a helper in a
New York hospital, had told her he could amputate the leg, as he had
seen the operation performed. Now she clamored for a doctor--a real
doctor--to do it.
He tried to persuade her of its uselessness, covering the leg in which
gangrene was far advanced, and telling her death was at hand. But her
despair insisted on action, her own suffering made her remorseless.
The clamor of their arguing voices surrounded the moribund figure lying
motionless with listless eyes as though already half initiated into new
and profound mysteries. Once, his mother's voice rising strident, he
asked her to let him rest in peace, he had suffered enough.
Unable to endure the scene Susan left them and joined a woman whom she
found sewing in the shade of a wagon. The woman seemed unmoved,
chatting as she stitched on the happenings of the journey and the
accident that had caused the delay. Here presently David joined them,
his face pallid, his lips loose and quivering.
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