262 Hans Brinker

and finally became idiotic. In time, he lay helpless, like yon
fellow on the bed; moaned, too, like him, and kept con-
stantly lifting his hand to his head. My learned friend Von
Choppem performed an operation upon this Donderdunck, and
discovered under the skull a small dark sac, which pressed
upon the brain. This had been the cause of the trouble.
My friend Von Choppem removed it — a splendid operation !
You see, according to Celsus—” and here the doctor again
went off into Latin. .

‘“¢ Did the man live?” asked the assistant, respectfully.

Dr. Boekman scowled. ‘That is of no consequence. I
believe he died. But why not fix your mind on the grand

»

features of the case? Consider a moment how —” and he
plunged into Latin mysteries more deeply than ever.

‘“¢ But, mynheer,” gently persisted the student, who knew
that the doctor would not rise to the surface for hours, unless
pulled at once from his favorite depths, — “‘ mynheer, you
have other engagements to-day : three legs in Amsterdam, you
remember, an eye in Broek, and that tumor up the canal.”

“© The tumor can wait,” said the doctor, reflectively. “ That
is another beautiful case—a beautiful case! The woman
has not lifted her head from her shoulder for two months.
Magnificent tumor, sir!”

The doctor, by this time, was speaking aloud. He had
quite forgotten where he was.

Vollenhoven made another attempt.

“ This poor fellow on the bed, mynheer. Do you think
you can save him?”

“Ah, indeed, certainly,” stammered the doctor, suddenly
perceiving that he had been talking rather off the point, —
“ certainly ; that is —I hope so.”