Well, this is one--a serious one, too; in fact,
it's just touch and go with him. There's a piece of the bone pressing
on the brain no bigger than that, but as much as if all Burnt Ridge was
atop of him! I'm going to lift it. I want somebody here to stand by,
some one who can lend a hand with a sponge, eh?--some one who isn't
going to faint or scream, or even shake a hair's-breadth, eh?"
The color rose quickly to the girl's cheek, and her eyes kindled. "I'll
come," she said thoughtfully. "Who is he?"
The doctor stared slightly at the unessential query. "Don't know,--one
of the river miners, I reckon. It's an urgent case. I'll go and get
everything ready. You'd better," he added, with an ominous glance at
her gray frock, "put something over your dress." The suggestion made her
grave, but did not alter her color.
A moment later she entered the room. It was the one that had always been
set apart for her brother: the very bed on which the unconscious man
lay had been arranged that morning with her own hands.
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