The scouts had been at their room one bleak raw night, and had just
left, except Rod, who had gone with the captain into the Anchorage for
a parcel Mrs. Britt wished to send to the rectory. He had been there
only a few minutes when several loud thumps sounded upon the door.
Quickly opening it, the captain was surprised to see Tom Dunker
standing before him. This was something most unusual, for since his
defeat several years ago Tom had shunned both the captain and the
Anchorage as if they were plague-infested.
Stepping quickly into the kitchen, the visitor stood there with face
white and haggard, and his whole body trembling.
"What's wrong, Tom?" the captain asked. "Ye look most scared to death."
"S-S-Sammy's hurt," was the gasping reply. "He f-fell and broke his
l-leg, and I'm afraid his n-neck, too."
"Why don't ye go fer the doctor, then?" the captain queried.
"I c-can't. He's over the r-river, down at Marshal's. He was sent fer
to-day. Oh, my poor Sammy!" and the distressed man gave a loud wail of
despair.
"What d'ye want me to do, man?" the captain demanded.
"Go fer the doctor. I c-can't git anybody else."
"H'm, is that so? I thought it must be something pretty desperate
which would send ye to me.
Pages:
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324