g she was able to get in communication with
Doctor Kent. Instructing the physician to come at once to the Lang
cottage, she hurried away. On her way up the hill she met McCoy and
Swanson carrying Gregory on the improvised stretcher.
"Where are you going?" she cried.
The Swede started to explain. His house was closest and they were quite
welcome to bring the injured man there.
The girl objected with decisive emphasis.
"I've already told the doctor to come to our house. Aunt Mary is the
best nurse in the country. Besides, Bill, you have your hands full
to-night with Hulda."
* * * * *
Mascola paused on the threshold of his office at the Red Paint with his
key grating in the lock. Then he placed his back to the brick wall and
drew his knife as he saw a bulky figure coming toward him.
"Stop where you are," he exclaimed sharply. "What do you want?"
Boris lunged forward and Mascola caught him roughly by the arm.
"Get out, damn you," he cried. "I told you to beat it."
"Tried to get girl," Boris panted. "Gregory man there too. I kill him."
Mascola looked hastily about. When Boris had ceased mumbling, the
Italian ordered after a moment's consideration: "Shut up. Go down to my
dock the back way. Get on the _Lura_. Wait there for me."
As the Russian slouched down the street, Mascola reopened his door and
went into his office. Then he got Ankovitch on the phone.
"Come down to the boat right away," he ordered. "I want you to get right
out."
* * * * *
Day was breaking when McCoy stood with Dickie Lang on the steps of the
Lang cottage. The bullet had been found and removed. Kenneth Gregory was
resting as well as could be expected. There was danger only through
blood-poisoning. The patient was young and strong and should recover.
The doctor from Centerville had just left after agreeing with the local
physician's diagnosis.
"And now," McCoy was saying, "as there is nothing more I can do here
I'll go back to town. It will sure be up to me from now on."
Dickie put a hand on his arm and looked earnestly into his eyes.
"It will be up to both of us, Jack. We've simply got to keep things
going for him. I might have saved him. Now it's up to me to make good."
As McCoy walked homeward through the brightening light, he strove to
consider the events of the night in their proper sequence, but his brain
rioted in a jumble of confused impressions. H
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