Part 27 (1/2)
He refused to be satisfied with my explanation and insisted strongly on my getting off and going with him to see a doctor. I laughed at the idea.
”Why, I haven't any money to pay a doctor,” I said.
”It won't cost you a cent. He is a friend of mine and as good a surgeon as any in the city. He's straight--knows his business. You come along.”
So, finding that my sleeve was quite soaked with blood, I yielded and went with him to the office of his friend, a young doctor named Traumer, who lived in a part of the town bordering on the working people's section, which, fortunately, was not far from where we got off the car.
Also, fortunately, we found him at home. He was a slim young fellow with a quiet, self-a.s.sured manner and a clean-cut face, lighted by a pair of frank, blue eyes.
”Doc,” said my conductor, ”here's a friend of mine who wants a little patching up.”
”That's the way with most friends of yours, Bill,” said the doctor, who had given me a single keen look. ”What's the matter with him? Shot? Or have the pickets been after him?”
”No, he's got his arm smashed saving a man's life.”
”What! Well, let's have a look at it. He doesn't look very bad.” He helped me off with my coat and, as he glanced at the sleeve, gave a little exclamation.
”h.e.l.lo!”
”Whose life did he save?” he asked, as he was binding up the arm.
”That's partly a mash.”
”Mine.”
”Oh! I see.” He went to work and soon had me bandaged up. ”Well, he's all right now. What were you doing?” he asked as he put on the last touches.
”Jumping on a car.”
”Ah!” The doctor was manifestly amused. ”You observe that our friend is laconic?” he said to me.
”What's that?” asked the other. ”Don't prejudice him against me. He don't know anything against me yet--and that's more than some folks can say.”
”Who was on that car that you were following?” asked the doctor, with a side glance at my friend. The latter did not change his expression a particle.
”Doc, did you ever hear what the parrot said to herself after she had sicked the dog on, and the dog not seeing anything but her, jumped on her?”
”No--what?”
”'Polly, you talk too d----d much.'”
The doctor chuckled and changed the subject. ”What's your labor-friend, Wringman, doing now? What did he come back here for?”
”Same old thing--dodging work.”
”He seems to me to work other people pretty well.”
The other nodded acquiescingly.
”He's on a new line now. McSheen's got him. Yes, he has,” as the doctor looked incredulous.