“Thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets, and seating himself on an old sea-chest, he began,—
“‘I say, Wilson, will you do me a favour?’
“‘That depends entirely on what the favour is,’ he replied, without raising his head from his work.
“‘I want you to help me to cut off an Indian’s head!’
“‘Then I _won’t_ do you the favour. But pray, don’t humbug me just now; I’m busy.’
“‘No; but I’m serious, and I can’t get it done without help, and I know you’re an obliging fellow. Besides, the savage is dead, and has no manner of use for his head now.’
“Wilson turned round with a look of intelligence on hearing this.
“‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, ‘I see what you’re up to; but I don’t half like it. In the first place, his friends would be terribly cut up if they heard of it; and then I’ve no sort of aptitude for the work of a resurrectionist; and then, if it got wind, we should never hear the last of it; and then—’
“‘And then,’ interrupted the doctor, ‘it would be adding to the light of medical science, you unaspiring monster.’
“‘A light,’ retorted Wilson, ‘which, in passing through _some_ members of the medical profession, is totally absorbed, and reproduced in the shape of impenetrable darkness.’
“‘Now, don’t object, my dear fellow; you _know_ you’re going to do it, so don’t coquette with me, but agree at once.’
“‘That you do not play any practical jokes on _me_ with the head when you have got it.’
“‘Agreed!’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘I give you my word of honour. Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he’ll keep for some time yet.
“The two worthies then entered into a deep consultation as to how they were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson should take his gun and sally forth a little before dark, as if he were bent on an hour’s sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr. Wilson, true to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth.
“It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But Wilson’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when superstition comes into play. However, he trudged along fearlessly enough till he came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which he entered with something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the narrow track that leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the post that stands there, but which, in his trepidation, he had entirely forgotten. This quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, and he has since confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting with the doctor in a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled at that moment.