Part 12 (2/2)

He reported that the rifle shot had come from the edge of the cliff over which the road down the mountain led. He added:

”I sent two charges of buckshot in that direction, but without aim, of course, as it is too dark to see. I reloaded at once, and while I was doing so I heard a groan off there. Perhaps we'd better look the matter up.”

Just then came another groan, and, at Tom's suggestion, torches were lighted and an exploration made.

Just over the edge of the little cliff they found a mountaineer. He was in a state of collapse, nine buckshot having pa.s.sed through the fleshy part of his thigh, cutting arteries and big veins enough to cause profuse haemorrhage.

”The man is badly hurt,” said the Doctor. ”We'll carry him to the hut at once and see what can be done for him.”

Willing hands lifted and carried the fainting man, and once in the hut the Doctor called for all the torches that could be lighted. Hurriedly he inspected the man's wounds, taking up an artery and putting a compress on a severed vein as he went. Finally he said:

”Fortunately none of the buckshot struck the bone. It is only a flesh wound though it is a very bad one. By the way”--the Doctor was seized with a kindly thought--”Ed Parmly is probably more anxious about this thing than any other boy in the party, and he is still out there on picket. Suppose one of you fellows goes out there to relieve him and let him come in to find out the amount of damage done by his shot.”

The thought appealed at once to the kindly feelings of the boys and they all instantly volunteered, but Jack, as the next in order on the sentry list, claimed the privilege of relieving Ed.

When Ed came in he first of all wanted to hear whether or not the man he had shot in the darkness was likely to die of his wounds.

The Doctor promptly rea.s.sured him on that point.

Then Ed said:

”Well, Doctor, if you are quite through with him, suppose you look at a little scratch that he gave me. I didn't want to say anything about it, but maybe it is better to have it attended to.”

The Doctor turned instantly and began stripping off the boy's clothing.

He found that a bullet, striking him in the left side, had pa.s.sed between two ribs, almost penetrating the hollow of the lower chest, but without quite doing so. It was one of those wonderful vagaries of bullet wounds that would kill in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, but which in the hundredth case do a minimum of damage.

The Doctor having satisfied himself that no vital organ had been touched, carefully disinfected the wound and swathed it in bandages. As he did so he said to the boy:

”Why didn't you tell us at the start, Ed, that you were wounded?”

”Well you see,” said Ed, ”I was more concerned about the other fellow.

It isn't a pleasant thing to kill a man, even when you've got to do it in self defence. So as I knew by his groans that he was worse hurt than I was, I didn't say anything about what his bullet had done till you were through with the job of dressing his wounds.”

”Will you permit me to remark,” said the Doctor, ”quite casually and in parentheses as it were, that you, Ed Parmly, are a hero? I haven't met a great many heroes in my time, but you are one of the few. Now you're going to bed, and I'm going to play tyrant over you till this wound gets well. But upon my word, I never knew two shots fired in darkness that did their work so effectively as yours and that mountaineer's did.”

With the instinct of his science the Doctor had no thought of questioning the wounded moons.h.i.+ner. But Tom had no scientific training and no particular scruples concerning the matter. So he turned to the mountaineer, who was occupying his bed, and asked in a peremptory voice:

”Why did you shoot Ed? What harm had he done you? What right had you to shoot at him.”

”Well, you see,” said the mountaineer, taking up the familiar parable, ”we fellers what lives up here in the mountings can't afford to have no intruders around. You fellers is intruders, and we're agoin' to drive you out'n the mountings. You mout as well make up your minds to that fust as last. We's done give you notice to quit, fair and square. You won't quit. So all they is fer it is to kill you an' that's what we've set out to do.”

”But, my friend,” said the Doctor, whose training had taught him to regard reason as the ultimate court of appeals in human affairs, ”we are here with a perfect right to be here. We have in no way interfered with you or your friends. You have absolutely no right to interfere with us.”

”All that don't make no difference whatsomever,” answered the mountaineer. ”We fellers what lives up here in the mountings don't want no spies an' n.o.body else up here. You fellers has got to get out'n the mountings an' that's all about it.”

”But what right have you?” asked the Doctor, ”to drive us out?”

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