Part 35 (2/2)

And when that doctor answered, through the window above, and we knew that it was he, and that we had him at last, I wanted to laugh and shout. But now we must get him back to the major.

”You're needed,” explained the man. ”Couple of kids.” And he said to us: ”Go ahead and tell him. I'm due at the mine.” And off he trudged. We thanked him.

”What's the trouble?” asked the doctor.

”Appendicitis, we think. We're from the Harden ranch.”

”Great Scott!” we heard the doctor mutter. Then he said. ”All right, I'll be down.” And we waited.

He came out of a side door and around upon the porch. He was b.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt.

”Who's got it? Not one of _you_?”

”No, another boy. He was sick on the trail and we took him to the ranch.

Then we rode over here.”

”What makes you think your friend has appendicitis?”

We described how the major acted and what Fitz had found out by feeling, and what we had done.

”Sounds suspicious,” said the doctor, shortly. ”You did the right thing, anyway. Do you want to go back with me? I'll start right over. Expect you're pretty tired.”

”We'll go,” we both exclaimed. We should say so! We wanted to be there, on the spot.

”I'll just get my case, and saddle-up.” And he disappeared.

He was a young doctor, smooth-faced; I guess he hadn't been out of college very long; but he was prompt and ready. He came down in a moment with a lantern, and put his case on the porch. He handed us a paper of stuff.

”There's some lump sugar,” he said. ”Eat it. I always carry some about with me, on long rides. It's fine for keeping up the strength.”

He swung the lantern to get a look at us, then he went back toward the stables, and saddled his horse. He was in the store a moment, too.

”I've got some cheese,” he announced, when he came out again. ”Cheese and sugar don't sound good as a mixture, but they'll see us through. We must keep our nerve, you know. All aboard?”

”All aboard,” we answered.

That was another long ride, back; but it did not seem so long as the ride in, because we knew that we were on the right trail. The doctor talked and asked us all about our trip as Scouts, and told experiences that he had had on trips, himself; and we tried to meet him at least halfway. But all the time I was wondering about the major, and whether we would reach him in time, and whether he would get well, and what was happening now, there. But there was no use in saying this, or in asking the doctor a lot of questions. He would know and he would do his best, and so would we all.

Just at daylight we again entered the ranch yard. Fitz waved his one arm from the ranch door. He came to meet us. His eyes were sticky and swollen and his face pale and set, but he smiled just the same.

”Here's the doctor,” we reported. ”How is he?”

”Not so bad, as long as we keep the cold compress on. He's slept.”

”Good,” said the doctor. ”We'll fix him up now, all right.”

He swung off, with his case, and Fitz took him right in. Van and I sort of tumbled off, and stumbled along after. Those forty miles at trot and fast walk had put a crimp in our legs. But I tell you, we were thankful that we had done it!

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