Miss Caprice Part 4

His words are spoken with authority, and the brawny smith surrenders the rod of glowing iron.

Without an instant's hesitation, only compressing his lips firmly together, the Chicagoan presses the red-hot iron upon his arm.

Then he tosses the hissing thing aside, and begins to draw his shirt over the raw red scar an inch square, which the merciless brand has seared upon his white arm.

Seeing the blanched face of Lady Ruth, and the anxious countenances of the others near-by, the doctor, who has recovered from the shock, smiles in a rea.s.suring way.

"I am sorry you saw this; I didn't intend you should. Let us go to the hotel!" he says, slipping a coin in the hand of the honest smith, who seems loth to accept it.

Then the party continue down in the direction of the hotel, where they stop while the steamer undergoes repairs.

"Colonel Blunt, will you do me the favor to come to my room? I want to put a small bandage with iodoform on the burn," he says aside, but Lady Ruth hears it.

"Colonel Blunt, indeed! What sort of trained nurse do you suppose he would make? I have had experience--you may smile if you like. Tell the colonel where to find your box of liniments and bandages, and bring it to me."

"But, my dear Lady--"

"Not a word, doctor. I shall esteem it an honor; and what I lack in scientific knowledge my aunt can supply."

This clinches the matter, and John can offer no further argument against her wish; so Blunt, the Royal Engineer officer, is sent after the doctor's case, which errand he performs willingly enough, for although he knows this affair has brightened up the chances of his rival, still, as an Englishman, he has a deep, inborn admiration for bravery, no matter whether shown in a Zulu warrior, armed with war club and a.s.sagai, or in a Yankee youth who throws himself between a dusky child of Malta and a mad dog, to receive the monster's attack.

So he hastens up stairs to the room which John Alexander Craig temporarily occupies, opens the door, and speedily returns with the little traveling case in which the young physician keeps many important medicines, an a.s.sortment of ready liniment and lint, with the wonderful remedial agents known to modern surgery.

To John's surprise, after he has opened the case and started to arrange the small bandage, it is gently taken from his hands.

"Allow me," says the pretty "doll," as he has at times been forced to mentally term Lady Ruth, after she has played with his admiration.

"But, do you know--"

"I never told you my uncle was a surgeon, Sir Archibald Gazzam--"

"What! that great man your uncle!" cries the student, with the deep respect a young M.D. has for a famous pract.i.tioner.

"Yes; and more than once I have a.s.sisted him in some simple case at the house. He gave me credit for a fair amount of nerve."

"Fair amount! Jove! for a girl you have a wonderful quant.i.ty. Why, I believe you'd have faced that brute yourself, if I hadn't gone," he says, enthusiastically, the others being momentarily at the window to witness a procession pa.s.s the hotel, with the dead dog on a litter.

"No, no, I could not do that; but, Doctor Chicago, was that what sent you out to meet that awful beast?"

Her head is bent over her work, so that the intense blush remains unseen, but it fades away at his cool reply.

"Oh, no; quite another thing! I told you I never considered myself a coward, and when I saw that dear little child apparently doomed to a terrible death, I could see the eyes of one I revere looking at me, and though death were sure I could not refrain."

He says this quietly and earnestly, yet without an apparent desire to arouse any feelings of chagrin on her side.

Lady Ruth bites her lips, but her hands are steady, and the touch is exceedingly gentle as she binds up the ugly red mark which he has inflicted on himself with what she is disposed to term Spartan-like courage.

"There; it is done, doctor."

"And neatly done, too," says Aunt Gwen, with a nod and a look of pride.

"I thank you sincerely, Lady Ruth."

"Ah! you are a thousand times welcome. There is not a woman in Valetta who would not feel it an honor to bind up the wound of the hero who saved that Maltese child," says this young lady, frankly.

More shouts without.

This time the men of Valetta are clamoring for the American to show himself. They do not know much of America, but they recognize true grit wherever they meet it.

Of course, a rush is made for the balcony, but John remains behind.

He is feeling somewhat weak after the exciting events of the afternoon.

And, as he sits there, smiling to hear the clamor without--for he is human, this young Chicago M.D.--some one touches his arm.

"Lady Ruth, I thought you went out with the rest," he stammers, with a guilty blush, for it chances that at the very moment he is thinking of her, and what a soft, electric touch she has, so soothing, so very delightful.

"I did not go; I was watching you."

"An interesting study, surely."

"It was to me. I desired to know whether you secretly feared the results of your wound."

"And I did not dream you were so concerned about me. Considering the matter calmly, I am disposed to believe there is now no danger--that the hot iron radically destroyed the last chance of infection."

"I am very glad to hear you say so."

"You care a little, then?"

How quickly she is on her guard.

"Because I would not see a brave boy needlessly sacrificed."

"You look on me as a boy. I am twenty-three."

"My own age, sir. That gives me the right to feel myself your senior."

"How so?"

"You know a woman is older at twenty-three than a man. Then you do not wear a beard."

"I shall cultivate one from this hour. Why, a year ago I looked like a pard, but was influenced to change."

Again that quick flash of intelligence.

"Ah! Doctor Chicago has left a lady love in the city on the lake."

"What makes you say that?"