The Doctor Part 49

And that is just what happened. On the afternoon of the second day, when both the doctor and d.i.c.k had gone off to their work and Barney had apparently fallen into a quiet sleep, the silence that reigned over the flat was broken by Ben Fallows coming up the stair with a telegram in his hand.

"It's fer the doctor," said Ben, "an' the messenger said as 'ow 'Mexico'

had got shot and--"

Swiftly Margaret closed the door of the room in which Barney lay. Ben's voice, though not loud, was of a peculiarly penetrating quality. Two words had caught Barney's ear, "Mexico" and "shot."

"Let me have the wire," he said quietly, when Margaret came in.

"I intended to give it to you, Barney," she replied as quietly. "You will do nothing rash, I am sure, and you always know best."

Barney opened the telegram and read, "'Mexico' shot. Bullet not found.

Wants doctor to come if possible."

"Dr. Cotton is not in?" inquired Barney.

"He is gone up the Big Horn."

"We can't possibly get him to-night," replied Barney.

Silently they looked at each other, thinking rapidly. They each knew that the other was ready to do the best, no matter at what cost.

"Take my temperature, Margaret." It was nine-nine and one-fifth. "That's not bad," said Barney. "Margaret, I must go. It's for 'Mexico's' life.

Yes, and more."

Margaret turned slightly pale. "You know best, Barney," she said, "but it may be your life, you know."

"Yes," he replied gravely. "I take that chance. But I think I ought to take it, don't you?" But Margaret refused to speak. "What do you think, Margaret?" he asked.

"Oh, Barney!" she cried, with pa.s.sionate protest, "why should you give your life for him?"

"Why?" he repeated slowly. "There was One who gave His life for me.

Besides," he added, after a pause, "there's a fair chance that I can get through."

She threw herself on her knees beside his bed. "No, Barney, there's almost no chance, you know and I know, and I can't let you go now!"

The pa.s.sionate love in her voice and in her eyes startled him. Gravely, earnestly, his eyes searched her face and read her heart. Slowly the crimson rose in her cheeks and flooded the fair face and neck. She buried her face in the bed. Gently he laid his hand upon her head, stroking the golden hair. For some moments they remained thus, silent.

Then, refusing to accept the confession of her word and look and act, he said, in a voice grave and kind and tender, "You expect me to do right, Margaret."

A shudder ran through the kneeling girl. Once more the cup of renunciation was being pressed to her lips. To the last drop she drained it, then raised her head. She was pale but calm. The bright blue eyes looked into his bravely while she answered simply, "You will do what is right, Barney."

Just as he was about to start on his journey another wire came in.

"Didn't know you were so ill. Don't you come. I'm all right. 'Mexico.'"

A rumour of the serious nature of the doctor's illness had evidently reached "Mexico," and he would not have his friend risk his life for him. A fierce storm was raging. The out train was hours late, but a light engine ran up from the Crossing and brought the doctor down.

When he entered the sick man's room "Mexico" glanced into his face.

"Good Lord, Doctor!" he cried, "you shouldn't have come! You're worse than me!"

"All right, 'Mexico,'" replied the doctor cheerfully. "I had to come, you know. We can't go back on our friends."

"Mexico" kept his eyes fastened on the doctor's face. His lips began to tremble. He put out his hand and clutched the doctor's hard. "I know now," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "why He let 'em kill Him."

"Why?"

"Couldn't go back on His friends, eh?"

"You've got it, 'Mexico,' old man. Pretty good, eh?"

"You bet! Now, Doc, get through quick and get to bed."

The bullet was found in the lung and safely extracted. It was a nasty wound and dangerous, but in half an hour "Mexico" was resting quietly.

Then the doctor lay down on a couch near by and tossed till morning, conscious of a return of the pain and fever. The symptoms he well knew indicated a very serious condition. When "Mexico" woke the doctor examined him carefully.

"You're fine, 'Mexico.' You'll be all right in a week or two. Keep quiet and obey orders."

"Mexico's" hand grasped him. "Doc," he said anxiously, "you look awful bad. Can't you get to bed quick? You're going to be terrible sick."

"I'm afraid I'm going to be pretty bad, 'Mexico,' but I'm glad I came. I couldn't have stayed away, could I? Remember that, 'Mexico.' I'm glad I came."

"Mexico's" fierce black eyes softened. "Doc, I'm sorry and I'm glad. I had a lot of things to ask, but I don't need to. I know now. And I want to tell you, I've quit all that business, cut it right out." He waved his hand toward the bar.

"'Mexico,'" said Barney earnestly, "that's great! That's the best news I've had all summer. Now I must get back quick." He took the gambler's hand in his. "Good-bye, 'Mexico.'" His voice was earnest, almost solemn.

"You've done me a lot of good. Good-bye, old boy. Play the game. He'll never go back on a friend."

"Mexico" reached out and held him with both hands. "Git out," he said to the attendant. "Doc," his voice dropped to a hoa.r.s.e whisper as he drew the doctor down to him, "there ain't n.o.body here, is there?" he asked, with a glance round the room.

"No, 'Mexico,' no one."

"Doc," he began again, his strong frame shaking, "I can't say it. It's all in here till it hurts. You're--you're like Him, I think. You make me think o' Him."

Barney dropped quickly on his knees beside the bed, threw his arms about his friend, and held him for a few moments in a tight embrace. "G.o.d bless you, 'Mexico,' for that word," he said. "Goodbye, my friend."

They held each other fast for a moment or two, looking into each other's eyes as if taking a last farewell. Then Barney took his journey through the storm, which was still raging, his fever mounting higher with every moment, back to the hospital, where Margaret received him with a brave welcoming smile.

"Dr. Cotton has returned," she announced. "And Dr. Neeley of Nelson is here, Barney."

He gave her a look of understanding. He knew well what she meant. "That was right, Margaret. And d.i.c.k?"

"d.i.c.k will be here this afternoon."

"You think of everything, Margaret dear, and everybody except yourself,"

said Barney, as he made his way painfully up the stairs.

"Let me help you, Barney," she said, putting her arms about him. "You're the one who will not think of yourself."

"We've all been learning from you, Margaret. And it is the best lesson, after all."

The consultation left no manner of doubt as to the nature of the trouble and the treatment necessary. It was appendicitis, and it demanded immediate operation.

"We can wait till my brother comes, can't we, Doctor?" Barney asked, a little anxiously. "An hour can't make much difference now, you know."