America, where one often sees the thoroughbred working with his hands, and I had suspected that his was either some youthful tragedy or the baton sinister.
"Dalton lay quite still while the surgeon dressed and bandaged his face; then, as the last pin was being inserted, he said in a steady voice:
"'How about my eyes, Doctor?'
"We'll hope for the best, old chap,' said this doctor, and I saw Dalton's mouth, the only feature in sight, set with the rigidity of a death-mask. His chest filled deeply and he swallowed once or twice, and when he spoke again his voice was dry but quite firm.
"'You think the chances are against me, don't you, Doctor?' he said quietly. The surgeon looked doubtfully at me and I nodded.
" 'Your case is like this, Dalton,' said he, 'if the caustic action of the ammonia has not burned through the conjunctiva and into the cornea the prognosis is good; otherwise it is bad—but I don't anticipate total blindness.'
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