The excitement
of the morning having brought on an access of fever with delirium, he
had arisen from his bed, put on his cap, and started, yelling, "_to
join the boys!_" Weak as I had supposed him to be, his strength almost
over-mastered my own. I could hardly prevent him from going down the
stairs. The only man in the ward able to assist me at all was minus an
arm and just recovering after amputation. I was afraid his wound might
possibly begin to bleed, besides, I knew that any _man's_ interference
would excite the patient still more. Relying upon the kindly,
chivalrous feeling which my presence always seemed to inspire in my
patients, I promised to get his gun for him if he would go back and
put on his clothes, and, placing my arm around the already tottering
and swaying figure, by soothing and coaxing got him back to the bed. A
sinking spell followed, from which he never rallied. In a lower ward
another death occurred, due also to sudden excitement.
Fearful of the effect that a knowledge of this would have upon other
patients, I resorted to deception, declaring that the dead men were
better and asleep, covering them, excluding light from windows near
them, and even pretending at intervals to administer medicines.
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