Bart ran for the hand truck on the platform, saw two of the men start
off with his father on it, and hurried back to the burning express shed.
He had hoped to save something, but one effort drove him back, realizing
the foolhardiness of repeating the experiment. The building and its
contents were doomed.
The crowd began to gather and grew with the moments. A road official
appeared on the scene. Bart made a brief, hurried explanation and ran
over to the drug store.
To his surprise his father was not there. Bart approached the druggist
to ask an anxious question when the companion of the latter, a
professional-looking man, spoke up.
"You are young Stirling, are you not?" he interrogated.
"Yes, sir," nodded Bart.
"Don't get frightened or worried, but I am Doctor Davis. We thought it
best to send your father to the hospital."
"To the hospital!" echoed Bart turning pale. "Then he is badly
injured--"
"Not at all," dissented the physician reassuringly. "He was probably
overcome by the smoke or fell and was stunned, but that injury was
trifling. It is his eyes we are troubled about."
"Tell me the worst!" pleaded Bart in a choked tone, but trying to
prepare himself for the shock.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38