The Doctor [87]
Maclennan. "I didn't hire him to run my camps. Well, we'll see what Craigin has to say."
As they drove into the camp they were met by Narcisse, the cook.
"Bo' jour, M'sieu Maclenn'. You want something for hit?"
"Good-day, cook," said Maclennan. "Yes, we'll take a cup of tea in a few minutes. I want to see Mr. Craigin."
Narcisse drew near Maclennan and in subdued voice announced, "M'sieu Craigin, he's not ver' well. He's hurt hisself. He's lie on bed."
"Why, what's the matter with him?"
Narcisse shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, some leet' troub'. You pass on de office you see de docteur."
"Why, Haines is up at the hospital. We just saw him."
"Hain!" said Narcisse, with scorn indescribable. "Dat's no docteur for one horse. Bah! De mans go seeck, seeck, he can noting. He know noting. He's get on beeg drunk! Non! Nodder docteur. He's come in, fin' tree, four mans seeck on de troat, cough, cough, sore, bad. Fill up de cook-house. Can't do noting. Sainte Marie! Dat new docteur, he's come on de camp, he's mak' one leet' fight, he's beeld hospital an' get dose seeck mans all nice an' snug. Bon. Good. By gar, dat's good feller!"
The smile broadened on Fahey's face. "I say, Maclennan, he's captured your camp. He's got the cook, dead sure."
The smile didn't help Maclennan's temper. He opened the office door and passed into Craigin's private room at the back. Here he found Dr. Bailey in charge. As he opened the door the doctor put up his hand for silence and backed him out into the office.
"Excuse me, Mr. Maclennan," he said, "he's asleep and must not be disturbed."
Maclennan shook hands with him with a cold "How are you," and introduced him to Mr. Fahey.
"Is Mr. Craigin ill?" inquired Fahey innocently.
"He has met with a slight accident," replied the doctor. "He is doing well and will be about in a day or two."
"Accident?" snorted Maclennan; then clearing his throat as for a speech he began in a loud tone, "Dr. Bailey, I must say--"
"Excuse me," said the doctor, opening the office door and marshalling them outside, "we'd better go somewhere else if we are going to talk. It is important that my patient should be kept perfectly quiet." The doctor's air was so entirely respectful and at the same time so masterful that Maclennan found himself walking meekly toward the grub-house behind the doctor, with Fahey, the smile on his face broader than ever, bringing up the rear. Maclennan caught the smile, but in the face of the doctor's quiet, respectful manner he found it difficult to rouse himself to wrath. He took refuge in bluster.
"Upon my word, Dr. Bailey," he burst forth when once they were inside the grub-house, "it seems to me that you have carried things on with a high hand in this camp. You come in here, a perfect stranger, you head a mutiny, you lay up my foreman with a dangerous wound, with absolutely no authority from anyone. What in the blank, blank do you mean, anyway?" Maclennan was rather pleased to find himself at length taking fire.
"Mr. Maclennan," said the doctor quietly, "it is natural you should be angry. Let me give you the facts before you pass your final judgment. A man was sent to me from this camp in a dying condition. Diphtheria. I learned there were others suffering here with the same disease. I came in at once to offer assistance. Consulted with Dr. Haines. We came to a practical agreement as to what ought to be done. Mr. Craigin objected. There was some trouble. Unfortunately, Mr. Craigin was hurt."
"Dr. Bailey," said the General Manager, "it will save trouble if you will go somewhat fully into the facts. We want an exact statement of what occurred." The authoritative tone drew Dr. Bailey's attention to the rugged face of the speaker, with its square forehead and bull-dog jaw. He recognized at once that he had to deal with a man of more than ordinary force, and he proceeded to give him an exact statement of all that had happened, beginning with the death of Scotty Anderson.
"That is all, gentlemen," said the doctor,
As they drove into the camp they were met by Narcisse, the cook.
"Bo' jour, M'sieu Maclenn'. You want something for hit?"
"Good-day, cook," said Maclennan. "Yes, we'll take a cup of tea in a few minutes. I want to see Mr. Craigin."
Narcisse drew near Maclennan and in subdued voice announced, "M'sieu Craigin, he's not ver' well. He's hurt hisself. He's lie on bed."
"Why, what's the matter with him?"
Narcisse shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, some leet' troub'. You pass on de office you see de docteur."
"Why, Haines is up at the hospital. We just saw him."
"Hain!" said Narcisse, with scorn indescribable. "Dat's no docteur for one horse. Bah! De mans go seeck, seeck, he can noting. He know noting. He's get on beeg drunk! Non! Nodder docteur. He's come in, fin' tree, four mans seeck on de troat, cough, cough, sore, bad. Fill up de cook-house. Can't do noting. Sainte Marie! Dat new docteur, he's come on de camp, he's mak' one leet' fight, he's beeld hospital an' get dose seeck mans all nice an' snug. Bon. Good. By gar, dat's good feller!"
The smile broadened on Fahey's face. "I say, Maclennan, he's captured your camp. He's got the cook, dead sure."
The smile didn't help Maclennan's temper. He opened the office door and passed into Craigin's private room at the back. Here he found Dr. Bailey in charge. As he opened the door the doctor put up his hand for silence and backed him out into the office.
"Excuse me, Mr. Maclennan," he said, "he's asleep and must not be disturbed."
Maclennan shook hands with him with a cold "How are you," and introduced him to Mr. Fahey.
"Is Mr. Craigin ill?" inquired Fahey innocently.
"He has met with a slight accident," replied the doctor. "He is doing well and will be about in a day or two."
"Accident?" snorted Maclennan; then clearing his throat as for a speech he began in a loud tone, "Dr. Bailey, I must say--"
"Excuse me," said the doctor, opening the office door and marshalling them outside, "we'd better go somewhere else if we are going to talk. It is important that my patient should be kept perfectly quiet." The doctor's air was so entirely respectful and at the same time so masterful that Maclennan found himself walking meekly toward the grub-house behind the doctor, with Fahey, the smile on his face broader than ever, bringing up the rear. Maclennan caught the smile, but in the face of the doctor's quiet, respectful manner he found it difficult to rouse himself to wrath. He took refuge in bluster.
"Upon my word, Dr. Bailey," he burst forth when once they were inside the grub-house, "it seems to me that you have carried things on with a high hand in this camp. You come in here, a perfect stranger, you head a mutiny, you lay up my foreman with a dangerous wound, with absolutely no authority from anyone. What in the blank, blank do you mean, anyway?" Maclennan was rather pleased to find himself at length taking fire.
"Mr. Maclennan," said the doctor quietly, "it is natural you should be angry. Let me give you the facts before you pass your final judgment. A man was sent to me from this camp in a dying condition. Diphtheria. I learned there were others suffering here with the same disease. I came in at once to offer assistance. Consulted with Dr. Haines. We came to a practical agreement as to what ought to be done. Mr. Craigin objected. There was some trouble. Unfortunately, Mr. Craigin was hurt."
"Dr. Bailey," said the General Manager, "it will save trouble if you will go somewhat fully into the facts. We want an exact statement of what occurred." The authoritative tone drew Dr. Bailey's attention to the rugged face of the speaker, with its square forehead and bull-dog jaw. He recognized at once that he had to deal with a man of more than ordinary force, and he proceeded to give him an exact statement of all that had happened, beginning with the death of Scotty Anderson.
"That is all, gentlemen," said the doctor,