"And ain't I tryin' to git
a doctor? Where'll I git a doctor?"
"Go to the hospital, ye gawk, and ask for Dr. Turnbull, and tell him
the young lad is a stranger and that his folk are in Scotland. Hoots, ye
gomeril, be off noo, an' the puir lad wantin' ye. Come, I'll pit ye on
yer way." The maid by her speech was obviously excited.
Sam glanced at the clock as he passed out. He had been away an hour and
a half.
"Jumpin' Jeremiah! I've got to hurry. She'll take my head off."
"Of course ye have," said the maid sharply. "Go down two streets there,
then take the first turn to your left and go straight on for half a
dozen blocks or so. Mind ye tell the doctor the lad's frae Scotland!"
she cried to Sam as he drove off.
At the hospital Sam was fortunate enough to catch Dr. Turnbull in the
hall with one or two others, just as they were about to pass into the
consulting room. Such was Sam's desperate state of mind that he went
straight up to the group.
"I want Dr. Turnbull," he said.
"There he is before you," replied a sharp-faced young doctor, pointing
to a benevolent looking old gentleman.
"Dr. Turnbull, there's a young feller hurt dreadful out our way. His
leg's broke. Guess he's hurt inside too. And he's a stranger. His folks
are all in Scotland. Guess he's dyin', and I've got--I've got a horse
and buggy at the door.
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