What would she do? Say, Deck, you've
got to git down to business. We're goin' to the city. There are doctors
there thick as hair on a dog. We'll try Dr. Turnbull. Say, it'll be
great if we could git him! Deck, we'll do it! But you got to git up and
dust."

And this Deck proceeded to do to such good purpose that in about an
hour's time he stood before Dr. Turnbull's door in the city, somewhat
wet, it is true, but with his fiery spirit still untamed.

Here again adverse fate met the unfortunate Sam.

"Doctor Turnbull's no at home," said the maid, smart with cap and apron,
who opened the door.

"How long will he be gone?" enquired Sam, wondering what she had on her
head, and why.

"There's no tellin'. An hour, or two hours, or three."

"Three hours?" echoed Sam. "Say, a feller might kick the bucket in that
time."

The maid smiled an undisturbed smile.

"Bucket? What bucket, eh? What bucket are ye talkin' aboot?" she
enquired.

"Say, you're smart, ain't yeh! But I got a young feller that's broke his
leg and--"

"His leg?" said the maid indifferently. "Well, he's got another?"

"Yes, you bet he has, but one leg ain't much good without the other. How
would you like to hop around on one leg? And he's hurt inside, too,
his lights, I guess, and other things." Sam's anatomical knowledge was
somewhat vague. "And besides, his girl's takin' on awful."

"Oh, is she indeed?" replied the maid, this item apparently being to her
of the very slightest importance.

"Say, if you only saw her," said Sam.

"Pretty, I suppose," said the maid with a touch of scorn.

"Pretty? No, ugly as a hedge fence. But say, I wish she was here right
now. She'd bring you to your--to time, you bet."

"Would she, now? I'd sort her." And the little maid's black eyes
snapped.

"Say, what'll I do? Jist got to have a doctor."

"Ye'll no git him till to-morrow."

"To-morrow?"

"How far oot are ye?"

"Twelve miles."

"Twelve miles? Ye'll no get him a minute afore to-morrow noon."

"Say, that young feller'll croak, sure. Away from home too. No friends.
All his folks in Scotland."

"Scotland, did ye say?" Something appeared to wake up in the little
maid. "Look here, why don't ye get a doctor instead o' daunderin' your
time here?"

"Git a doctor?" echoed Sam in vast surprise. "And ain't I tryin' to git
a doctor? Where'll I git a doctor?"

"Go to the hospital, ye gawk, and ask for Dr. Turnbull, and tell him
the young lad is a stranger