Austin and His Friends | Page 2

in his right knee,
accompanied by considerable pain. The family doctor looked anxious
and puzzled; a great surgeon was called in, and the two shook their
heads together in very portentous style. It was a case of caries, they said,
and Austin mustn't hunt sheep any more. Soon he had to lie upon the
sofa for several hours a day, and what made Aunt Charlotte more
anxious than anything else was that he didn't seem to mind lying on the
sofa, as he would have done if he had felt strong and well; on the
contrary, he grew thin and listless, and instead of always jumping up
and trying to evade the doctor's orders, appeared quite content to lie
there, quiet and resigned, from one week's end to another. That, thought
shrewd Aunt Charlotte, betokened mischief. Another consultation

followed, and then a very terrible sentence was pronounced. It was
necessary, in order to save his life, that Austin should lose his leg.
What does a boy generally feel under such circumstances? What would
you and I feel? Austin's first impulse was to burst into a passionate fit
of weeping, and he yielded to it unreservedly. But, the fit once past, he
smiled brilliantly through his tears. True, he would never again be able
to enjoy those glorious ramps up hill and down dale that up till then had
sent the warm life coursing through his veins. Never more would he go
scorching along the level roads against the wind on his cherished
bicycle. The open-air athletic days of stress and effort were gone, never
to return. But there might be compensations; who could tell? Happiness,
all said and done, need not depend upon a shin-bone more or less. He
might lose a leg, but legs were, after all, a mere concomitant to life--life
did not consist in legs. There would still be something left to live for,
and who could tell whether that something might not be infinitely
grander and nobler and more satisfying than even the rapture of flying
ten miles an hour on his wheel, or chevying a flock of agitated sheep
from one pasture to another?
Where this sudden inspiration came from, he then had no idea; but
come it did, in the very nick of time, and helped him to dry his tears.
The day of destiny also came, and his courage was put to the test. He
knew well enough, of course, that of the operation he would feel
nothing. But the sight of the hard, white, narrow pallet on which he had
to lie, the cold glint of the remorseless instruments, the neatly folded
packages of lint and cotton-wool, and the faint, horrible smell of
chloroform turned him rather sick for a minute. Then he glanced
downwards, with a sense of almost affectionate yearning, at the limb he
was about to lose. "Good-bye, dear old leg!" he murmured, with a little
laugh which smothered a rising sob. "We've had some lovely ramps
together, but the best of friends must part."
Afterwards, during the long days of dreary convalescence, he began to
feel an interest in what remained of it; and then he found himself taking
a sort of æsthetic pleasure in the smooth, beautifully-rounded stump,
which really was in its way quite an artistic piece of work. At last,
when the flesh was properly healed, and the white skin growing
healthily again around his abbreviated member, he grew eager to make
acquaintance with his new leg; for of course it was never intended that

he should perform the rest of his earthly pilgrimage with only a leg and
a half--let the added half be of what material it might. And his
excitement may be better imagined than described when, one afternoon,
the surgeon came in with a most wonderful object in his arms--a lovely
prop of bright, black, burnished wood, set off with steel couplings and
the most fascinating straps you ever saw. And the best of all was the
socket, in which his soft white stump fitted as comfortably as though
they had been made for one another--as, in fact, one of them had been.
It was a little difficult to walk just at first, for Austin was accustomed
to begin by throwing out his foot, whereas now he had to begin by
moving his thigh; this naturally made him stagger, and for some time
he could only get along with the aid of a crutch. But to be able to walk
again at all was a great achievement, and then, if you only looked at it
in the proper light, it really was great fun.
There was, however, one person who, probably from a defective sense
of humour, was unable to see any fun in it at all. Aunt Charlotte would
have given her