The Doctor [81]
Tommy, whereupon the Swede submitted to the examination.
The doctor turned him toward the east, where the sun was just peeping through the treetops, and looked into his throat. "My man, you go right back to bed quick."
"No, it will not to bed," replied Yonie. "Big work to-day, boss say. He not like men sick."
"You hear me," said the doctor sharply. "You go back to bed. Where's your doctor?"
"He slapes in the office between meals. Yonder," said Tommy, pointing the way.
"Never mind now. Where are your sick men?"
"De seeck mans?" replied the cook. "She's be hall overe. On de bunk-house, on de cook shed. Dat is imposseeb to mak' de cook for den seeck mans hall aroun'."
"What? Do they sit around where you are cooking?"
"Certainment. Dat's warm plas. De bunkhouse she's col.' Poor feller! But she's mak' me beeg troub'. She's cough, cough, speet, speet. Bah! dat's what you call lak' one beas'."
The doctor strode into the cook-house. By the light of the lantern swinging from the roof he found three men huddled over the range, the picture of utter misery. He took down the lantern.
"Here, cook, hold this please, one moment. Allow me to look at your throats, men."
"Dis de docteur, men," said the cook.
A quick glance he gave at each throat, his face growing more stern with each examination.
"Boys, you must all get to bed at once. You must keep away from this cook-house or you'll poison the whole camp."
"Where can we go, doctor? The bunk-house would freeze you and the stink of it would make a well man sick."
"And is there no place else?"
"No. Unless it's the stables," said another man; "they're not quite so bad."
"Well, sit here just now. We'll see about it. But first let me give you something." He opened his bag, took out his syringe. "Here, Yonie, we'll begin with you. Roll up your sleeve." And in three minutes he had given all four an antitoxin injection. "Now, we'll see the doctor. By the way what's his name?"
"Hain," said the cook, "dat's his nem."
"Haines," explained one of the men.
"Dat's what I say," said the cook indignantly, "Hain."
The doctor passed out, went toward the office, knocked at the door, and, getting no response, opened it and walked in.
"Be the powers, Narcisse!" cried Tommy, as the cook stood looking after the doctor, "it's little I iver thought I'd pity that baste, but Hivin save him now! He'll be thinkin' the divil's come fer him. An' begob, he'll be wishin' it wuz before he's through wid him."
But Dr. Bailey was careful to observe all the rules that the punctilious etiquette of the profession demanded. He found Dr. Haines sleeping heavily in his clothes. He had had a bad night. He was uneasy at the outbreak of sickness in his camp, and more especially was he seized with an anxious foreboding in regard to the sick man who had been sent out the day before. Besides this, the foreman had cursed him for a drunken fool in the presence of the whole camp with such vigour and directness that he had found it necessary to sooth his ruffled feelings with large and frequent doses of stimulant brought into the camp for strictly medical purposes. With difficulty he was roused from his slumber. When fully awake he was aware of a young man with a very pale and very stern face standing over him. Without preliminary Dr. Bailey began:
"Dr. Haines, you have some very sick men in this camp."
"Who the deuce are you?" replied Haines, staring up at him.
"They call me Dr. Bailey. I have come in from along the line."
"Dr. Bailey?" said Haines, sitting up. "Oh, I've heard of you." His tone indicated a report none too favourable. In fact, it was his special chum and confrere who had been ejected from his position in the Gap camp through Dr. Bailey's vigorous measures.
"You have some very sick men in the camp," repeated Dr. Bailey, his voice sharp and stern.
"Oh, a little tonsilitis," replied Haines in an indifferent tone.
"Diphtheria," said Bailey shortly.
"Diphtheria be hanged!" replied Haines insolently;
The doctor turned him toward the east, where the sun was just peeping through the treetops, and looked into his throat. "My man, you go right back to bed quick."
"No, it will not to bed," replied Yonie. "Big work to-day, boss say. He not like men sick."
"You hear me," said the doctor sharply. "You go back to bed. Where's your doctor?"
"He slapes in the office between meals. Yonder," said Tommy, pointing the way.
"Never mind now. Where are your sick men?"
"De seeck mans?" replied the cook. "She's be hall overe. On de bunk-house, on de cook shed. Dat is imposseeb to mak' de cook for den seeck mans hall aroun'."
"What? Do they sit around where you are cooking?"
"Certainment. Dat's warm plas. De bunkhouse she's col.' Poor feller! But she's mak' me beeg troub'. She's cough, cough, speet, speet. Bah! dat's what you call lak' one beas'."
The doctor strode into the cook-house. By the light of the lantern swinging from the roof he found three men huddled over the range, the picture of utter misery. He took down the lantern.
"Here, cook, hold this please, one moment. Allow me to look at your throats, men."
"Dis de docteur, men," said the cook.
A quick glance he gave at each throat, his face growing more stern with each examination.
"Boys, you must all get to bed at once. You must keep away from this cook-house or you'll poison the whole camp."
"Where can we go, doctor? The bunk-house would freeze you and the stink of it would make a well man sick."
"And is there no place else?"
"No. Unless it's the stables," said another man; "they're not quite so bad."
"Well, sit here just now. We'll see about it. But first let me give you something." He opened his bag, took out his syringe. "Here, Yonie, we'll begin with you. Roll up your sleeve." And in three minutes he had given all four an antitoxin injection. "Now, we'll see the doctor. By the way what's his name?"
"Hain," said the cook, "dat's his nem."
"Haines," explained one of the men.
"Dat's what I say," said the cook indignantly, "Hain."
The doctor passed out, went toward the office, knocked at the door, and, getting no response, opened it and walked in.
"Be the powers, Narcisse!" cried Tommy, as the cook stood looking after the doctor, "it's little I iver thought I'd pity that baste, but Hivin save him now! He'll be thinkin' the divil's come fer him. An' begob, he'll be wishin' it wuz before he's through wid him."
But Dr. Bailey was careful to observe all the rules that the punctilious etiquette of the profession demanded. He found Dr. Haines sleeping heavily in his clothes. He had had a bad night. He was uneasy at the outbreak of sickness in his camp, and more especially was he seized with an anxious foreboding in regard to the sick man who had been sent out the day before. Besides this, the foreman had cursed him for a drunken fool in the presence of the whole camp with such vigour and directness that he had found it necessary to sooth his ruffled feelings with large and frequent doses of stimulant brought into the camp for strictly medical purposes. With difficulty he was roused from his slumber. When fully awake he was aware of a young man with a very pale and very stern face standing over him. Without preliminary Dr. Bailey began:
"Dr. Haines, you have some very sick men in this camp."
"Who the deuce are you?" replied Haines, staring up at him.
"They call me Dr. Bailey. I have come in from along the line."
"Dr. Bailey?" said Haines, sitting up. "Oh, I've heard of you." His tone indicated a report none too favourable. In fact, it was his special chum and confrere who had been ejected from his position in the Gap camp through Dr. Bailey's vigorous measures.
"You have some very sick men in the camp," repeated Dr. Bailey, his voice sharp and stern.
"Oh, a little tonsilitis," replied Haines in an indifferent tone.
"Diphtheria," said Bailey shortly.
"Diphtheria be hanged!" replied Haines insolently;