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Doctor Livesey patched it up with plaster and pulled my ears for
me into the bargain.

After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by the captain’s side
awhile in consultation; and when they had talked to their hearts’
content, it being then a little past noon, the doctor took up his hat
and pistols, girt on a cutlass, put the chart in his pocket, and with a
musket over his shoulder crossed the palisade on the north side
and set off briskly through the trees.

Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of the block
house, to be out of earshot of our officers consulting; and Gray
took his pipe out of his mouth and fairly forgot to put it back again,
so thunder-struck he was at this occurrence.

“Why, in the name of Davy Jones,” said he, “is Dr. Livesey

“Why no,” says I. “He’s about the last of this crew for that, I
take it.”

“Well, shipmate,” said Gray, “mad he may not be; but if HE’S
not, you mark my words, I am.”

“I take it,” replied I, “the doctor has his idea; and if I am right,
he’s going now to see Ben Gunn.”

I was right, as appeared later; but in the meantime, the house
being stifling hot and the little patch of sand inside the palisade
ablaze with midday sun, I began to get another thought into my
head, which was not by any means so right. What I began to do
was to envy the doctor walking in the cool shadow of the woods
with the birds about him and the pleasant smell of the pines, while
I sat grilling, with my clothes stuck to the hot resin, and so much
blood about me and so many poor dead bodies lying all around
that I took a disgust of the place that was almost as strong as fear.

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