"
"Can't we give her the proper attendance here, doctor?" I asked.
"I fear not. She ought to have a woman's gentle care, for one thing,
and some remedies and appliances I haven't with me for such a delicate
case. It is the long distance between here and the fort, and the rough
road, that make the outlook hopeless. She cannot survive such a
journey."
"Then we will remain here, doctor," said I. "Write out a list of what
you want, and I will send a man to Whipple for tents and supplies, a
camp woman, Frank, Vic, and the elder Arnold girl."
"Duncan, you are inspired!" exclaimed the doctor. "I'll have my order
ready by the time the messenger reports, and then we'll make Brenda
comfortable."
A letter was written to Captain Bayard, the surgeon's memoranda
enclosed, and a quarter of an hour afterwards fleet-footed Sancho was
flying over the sixty miles to Fort Whipple as fast as Private Tom
Clary could ride him. Three days later a pack-train arrived, with a
laundress from the infantry company, Frank Burton, and Mary Arnold,
and with stores and supplies necessary for setting up a sick-camp.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277