The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail Part 38

"To-morrow? Why should I come back to-morrow? I can do no more--unless you agree to amputation. There is no use coming back to-morrow. I have other cases waiting on me. I can't give all my time to this Indian." The contempt in the doctor's voice for a mere Indian stung her like a whip.

On Mandy's cheek, pale with her long vigil, a red flush appeared and in her eye a light that would have warned the doctor had he known her better.

"Is not this Indian a human being?" she asked quietly.

But the doctor was very impatient and anxious to be gone.

"A human being? Yes, of course, a human being, but there are human beings and human beings. But if you mean an Indian is as good as a white man, frankly I don't agree with you."

"You have given a great deal of your time, doctor," said Mandy with quiet deliberation, "and I am most grateful. I can ask no more for THIS INDIAN. I only regret that I have been forced to ask so much of your time. Good-by." There was a ring as of steel in her voice. The doctor became at once apologetic.

"What--eh?--I beg your pardon," he stammered.

"It is not at all necessary. Thank you again for all your service.

Good-by."

"Eh? I don't quite--"

"Good-by, doctor, and again thank you."

"Well, you know quite well I can't do any more," said the old doctor crossly.

"No, I don't think you can."

"Eh--what? Well, good-by." And awkwardly the doctor walked away, rather uncertain as to her meaning but with a feeling that he had been dismissed.

"Most impossible person!" he muttered as he left the tent door, indignant with himself that no fitting reply would come to his lips. And not until he had mounted his horse and taken the trail was he able to give full and adequate expression to his feelings, and even then it took him some considerable time to do full justice to himself and to the situation.

Meantime the nurse had turned back to her watch, weary and despairing.

In a way that she could not herself understand the Indian boy had awakened her interest and even her affection. His fine stoical courage, his warm and impulsive grat.i.tude excited her admiration and touched her heart. Again arose to her lips a cry that had been like a refrain in her heart for the past three days, "Oh, if only Dr. Martin were here!" Her experience and training under Dr. Martin had made it only too apparent that the old army surgeon was archaic in his practice and method.

"I know something could be done!" she said aloud, as she bent over her patient. "If only Dr. Martin were here! Poor boy! Oh! I wish he were here!"

As if in answer to her cry there was outside a sound of galloping horses. She ran to the tent door and before her astonished eyes there drew up at her tent Dr. Martin, her sister-in-law and the ever-faithful Smith.

"Oh, oh, Dr. Martin!" she cried, running to him with both hands outstretched, and could say no more.

"h.e.l.lo, what's up? Say, what the deuce have they been doing to you?" The doctor was quite wrathful.

"Oh, I am glad, that's all."

"Glad? Well, you show your joy in a mighty queer way."

"She's done out, Doctor," cried Moira, springing from her horse and running to her sister-in-law. "I ought to have come before to relieve her," she continued penitently, with her arms round Mandy, "but I knew so little, and besides I thought the doctor was here."

"He was here," said Mandy, recovering herself. "He has just gone, and oh, I am glad. He wanted to cut his foot off."

"Cut his foot off? Whose foot off? His own?" said Dr. Martin.

"But I am glad! How did you get here in all the world?"

"Your telegram came when I was away," said the doctor. "I did not get it for a day, then I came at once."

"My telegram?"

"Yes, your telegram. I have it here--no, I've left it somewhere--but I certainly got a telegram from you."

"From me? I never sent a telegram."

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Cameron. I understood you to desire Dr.

Martin's presence, and--I ventured to send a wire in your name. I hope you will forgive the liberty," said Smith, red to his hair-roots and looking over his horse's neck with a most apologetic air.

"Forgive the liberty?" cried Mandy. "Why, bless you, Mr. Smith, you are my guardian angel," running to him and shaking him warmly by the hand.

"And he brought, us here, too," cried Moira. "He has been awfully good to me these days. I do not know what I should have done without him."

Meantime Smith was standing first on one foot and then on the other in a most unhappy state of mind.

"Guess I will be going back," he said in an agony of awkwardness and confusion. "It is getting kind of late."

"What? Going right away?" exclaimed Mandy.

"I've got some ch.o.r.es to look after, and I guess none of you are coming back now anyway."

"Well, hold on a bit," said the doctor. "We'll see what's doing inside.

Let's get the lie of things."

"Guess you don't need me any more," continued Smith. "Good-by." And he climbed on to his horse. "I have got to get back. So long."

No one appeared to have any good reason why Smith should remain, and so he rode away.

"Good-by, Mr. Smith," called out Mandy impulsively. "You have really saved my life, I a.s.sure you. I was in utter despair."

"Good-by, Mr. Smith," cried Moira, waving her hand with a bright smile.

"You have saved me too from dying many a time these three days."

With an awkward wave Smith answered these farewells and rode down the trail.

"He is really a fine fellow," said Mandy. "Always doing something for people."

"That is just it," cried Moira. "He has spent his whole time these three days doing things for me."

"Ah, no wonder," said the doctor. "A most useful chap. But what's the trouble here? Let's get at the business."

Mandy gave him a detailed history of the case, the doctor meanwhile making an examination of the patient's general condition.

"And the doctor would have his foot off, but I would not stand for that," cried Mandy indignantly as she closed her history.

"H'm! Looks bad enough to come off, I should say. I wish I had been here a couple of days ago. It may have to come off all right."