The Way Private Brave Saved a Baby’s Life
We Put the Baby into Her Arms
“We were riding along one day, when I thought I heard a baby’s cry. None of the other boys seemed to hear it, and as we were not riding in order, I headed my horse toward the sound. I had about concluded that I was mistaken, when the horse stopped short. The crying had ceased by this time.
“I looked down, and there among the sage-brush, at the horse’s feet, was a little baby about a year old. How it came in such a place, I have no idea. There was no house within forty miles, and we hadn’t met a soul.
“I got off my horse and picked the little thing up and rode with it to our captain. It appeared to be half starved and surely could not have survived much longer.
“We carried it with us into camp, fed it and took care of it as best we could.
“On making inquiries, we found the baby had been stolen from some poor white settlers. Who did it or why, no one ever found out.
“When the poor mother came into camp and we put the baby into her arms she was the happiest woman I ever saw.”
“Wasn’t that grand!” cried Bobby to Sammy, the little lame boy in the next bed. Sammy was the plaster-of-Paris doll Mary Frances had bought for a nickel at the children’s fair.
All the patients were sorry—and the doctors and nurses, too—when the time came for Private Brave to leave the hospital.
He had been so bright and cheerful that they would miss him greatly.
He felt sorry, too, in a way, for so many interesting things had happened; for instance—but perhaps you would rather hear the story of the mad dog as Private Brave told it to his family.
CHAPTER XVII
The Mad Dog
PRIVATE BRAVE was comfortably seated in the home living room with his family gathered around to hear what had happened while he was in the hospital.
“It was about four o’clock in the afternoon,” he began. “I had just finished telling the boys about saving the baby, and all my other experiences which you know, when suddenly we heard a woman crying as she rushed past the ward door.
“‘Oh, Doctor,’ she sobbed, ‘will he die—will my little boy die? He didn’t know the dog would bite, poor child! He says the dog isn’t mad, but everybody else says he is!’
“‘Come,’ said the doctor, ‘mad or not, we’ll fix this young man up so he’ll be quite safe. I’m glad you brought him to me immediately.’
“I was on my feet in an instant, and ran to the office door, for I was very anxious to hear what would be done for the little boy.
“‘This must be cauterized, Nurse,’ said the doctor. ‘Get nitrate of silver ready.’
“He dipped a wooden stick into the poison and turned it around in the wound, the little boy screaming with the pain.
“‘Oh, Doctor,’ asked his mother, ‘must he be hurt so much?’
“‘Safety must first be considered,’ replied the doctor. ‘We are probably destroying the dreadful germs of hydrophobia. And, next, this little boy must be given Pasteur treatment with the wonderful serum used to prevent hydrophobia, for hydrophobia means the most terrible suffering anybody could imagine. Of course, no one is quite certain that the dog was mad; for many a time a dog which has been nearly crazed with thirst, or been the victim of bad boys’ pranks, has been thought mad.’
“‘But this doggy wasn’t mad,’ the boy cried out, forgetting his pain. ‘A bad boy was twisting his tail and the poor doggy thought I did it because I was near!’
“‘Are you certain, little fellow?’ asked the doctor.
“‘Yes, sir, and after he bit me, a big man beat him with his cane, and the poor doggy ran yelping down the street. Oh, how you made my arm ache, Doctor!’
“‘Poor boy!’ said the doctor, ‘I really had to hurt you.’
“‘What should I have done, Doctor, if we had been miles from a physician?’ asked the mother.
“‘That’s a good question,’ replied Doctor Surecure. ‘I will tell you the simplest treatment for an untrained person to use—
For Dog Bite
(See [Reference List])
Whether there is danger of hydrophobia or not, if bite is on limb, tie a cloth tightly around limb between wound and body, and encourage bleeding by squeezing. Wash with soap and hot water. Apply iodine. Loosen cloth in an hour.
If there is the slightest danger of hydrophobia, get patient to a doctor! If impossible to get a doctor, apply nitrate of silver, or pure carbolic acid with a soft stick. But it seems that there are few places where a doctor cannot be consulted within twenty-four hours,—who will see that the patient is given Pasteur treatment to prevent hydrophobia from developing.
“Well, I am certainly glad to learn that, my son,” said Private Brave’s mother. “We had a terrible fright the day the little boy was bitten, for somebody said that our Mike did it.”
“What!” exclaimed Private Brave. “Did anybody dare accuse this most faithful and wonderfully brave dog-member of the Brave family?”
“It Wasn’t You, Michael, Old Boy!”
Mike had been lying at his young master’s feet; in fact, he hadn’t left him since he came home—not even to eat his dinner. On hearing his name, Mike stood up, wagging his tail so hard that you would have thought it would drop off unless it was nailed on.
He looked inquiringly upon the family, his mouth open and his intelligent brown eyes questioning what all this talk meant.
“It wasn’t you, Michael, old boy, good old fellow!” exclaimed Ibee, petting him.
“Bow! Bow!” barked Mike, and Ibee declared he smiled.
“Well,” said Private Brave, “that was—” He didn’t finish the sentence, for at that instant the next door neighbor came running into the room.
“Oh, come, Miss Shesa!” she exclaimed. “My baby’s dying—she’s swallowed poison.”
CHAPTER XVIII
The Poisoned Baby
SHESA hastened away with the neighbor, for she knew that any delay might cost the baby’s life. She could hear the little girl’s agonizing screams.
“Ibee, run for the doctor,” she called.
“We must work until the doctor comes,” she said to the distracted mother. She was wise enough to realize that it would be best to keep the mother busy.
“What kind of poison—do you know?” asked Shesa anxiously, as they ran up the steps of the porch.
“Lye,” answered the mother briefly. “The maid was scrubbing the kitchen steps, and left the can of lye on the floor. Baby came along, saying ‘dink, dink,’ and before Sally Ann could get into the door, baby had swallowed a mouthful. It couldn’t have been very strong, for Sally Ann had filled up the can with water.”
Shesa took the baby on her lap and looked into its poor little burnt mouth.
“Bring a glass of water and some vinegar,” she ordered. When they came, she diluted the vinegar with water giving the baby a teaspoonful at a time.
“Bring the juice of a lemon,” she said. This she diluted, giving it to the baby in the same way.
It must have stopped some of the suffering, for the little one began to seem more comfortable.
“Bring a Glass of Water and Some Vinegar”
“Now, the beaten white of an egg in water,” she said at length. Of this she gave the baby a tablespoonful; then a tablespoonful of olive oil, holding its little mouth shut to make it swallow.
By the time the doctor arrived, the baby had fallen asleep on Shesa’s lap.
“You have saved this baby’s life, Miss Brave,” said the doctor. “If it hadn’t been for prompt action, the child might have died.”
“People are so careless with poisons,” he went on. “Poisons should never be placed within the reach of little children. All bottles should be labeled plainly, and the stoppers should be tied about with a piece of gauze—not very attractive, I admit, but one of the best safeguards against making a mistake as to the ‘right bottle.’ Poisons should not be kept in the general medicine closet, but in a place by themselves—unless we except iodine, which has such a decided odor that it may be kept in a more accessible place, ready for its many uses.”
“You Have Saved this Baby’s Life, Miss Brave”
After complimenting Shesa again on her treatment of the baby, and leaving some medicines for both the baby and the baby’s mother, the doctor went away.
Shesa was met by her mother as she started home.
“We are all so anxious, dear,” she said, “to learn how the baby is.”
“The baby’s all right,” smiled Shesa.
“How thankful Ima will be!” exclaimed her mother. “It brings tears to my eyes to see how interested that dear boy is in everybody, thinking so little about his own misfortunes. Think of a young man just at his age losing an arm!”
“Father told me that last night when he tried to express a little sympathy, Ima said, ‘Well, Father, it is a loss; but you know, I have one arm left!’” Shesa replied.
“Wasn’t that wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Brave.
“It certainly is wonderful how bravely he takes his troubles,” replied Shesa. “Father said he thought that it really required more bravery to feel that way than to go to the battlefield.”
By this time they had reached home, and Shesa had to tell everybody about the saving of the life of the poisoned baby.
CHAPTER XIX
Hurrah for Our Hero
THE Brave family were not the only people who admired Private Brave’s cheerful acceptance of his fate and his determination to make his left hand learn to do the work of two hands.
One day when he was running the lawn mower over the lawn in front of the house, Doctor Quickenquack stopped in his dollsmobile.
“Hello, how’s the ‘General’?” he called. “Can’t you jump in and take a ride? Hope you’re not too busy to have a little holiday.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Private Brave, “it’s certainly kind of you to ask me. Will you wait until I put this mower away and get my coat?”
He had to lock the door, for none of the family were home, but he hopped into the car in a minute’s time. The doctor started the engine and away they rode toward Painted River and Looking Glass Lake. It was a beautiful morning and Private Brave enjoyed the ride very much.
“If you will just let me out here, I’ll walk home from this corner,” said he as they came to River Avenue.
“Not much, sir; you’re kidnapped,” laughed the doctor as he drove on toward the hospital.
“First, your lunch; then a visit to the boys’ ward,” said the doctor. “That’s your program, sir.”
Private Brave was delighted with the idea, and how he enjoyed his lunch after the ride!
When he went with the doctor to the boys’ ward, you can’t imagine how surprised he was to see all his own family. Not only they were there, but also the boys’ class and the girls’ class in first-aid.
Besides these, wore Miss Bossem and Miss Helpem and Doctor Surecure and even the ambulance driver, Billy.
Doctor Quickenquack led Private Brave under an American flag which was draped in one corner of the room.
“Dear Private Brave,” said Doctor Surecure, clearing his throat, “it is my pleasure to present to you a gift from some of your many admiring friends.”
Private Brave blushed at the praise, and smiled as Miss Helpem carried forward a box which she placed on the little table beside him.
He opened the lid and lifted out a beautiful little hand-embroidered silk flag.
“Perhaps we’d better help you open the box the rest of the way,” suggested Doctor Surecure. “Let us step into the next room.”
When the doctors and Private Brave came back—what do you think? Private Brave was waving the beautiful little silk flag in the hand of a new wooden arm, so skilfully made that it had almost human action.
“Hurrah!” shouted the boys and girls in delight. “Hurrah! Hurrah for Private Brave! Hurrah for Our Hero!”
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” they shouted together at the top of their lungs.
He Opened the Lid and Lifted Out a Beautiful Little Hand-Embroidered Silk Flag
“Hurrah for Private Brave! He’s—
Prepared for less,
Prepared for more,
Prepared for peace,
Prepared for war!
Prepared for well,
Prepared for ill,
Prepared to save
The doctor’s bill!
Prepared for calm,
Prepared for strife,
Prepared for anything
In life!
··········
“Oh, Billy,” cried Mary Frances, after it was all over, “I’m so thankful to you for your birthday present.”
“What do you mean?” yawned Billy.
“Why, for the day we’ve just spent together in the playroom,” said Mary Frances.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” pretended Billy.
“Why, Billy!” Mary Frances laughed. “If you will just put a triangular bandage on my hand with your handkerchief, you’ll remember.”
Billy put it on beautifully, just as you saw it shown on Mary Frances’ doll in the picture.
“Now, you remember, Mr. Ambulance Driver!” cried Mary Frances, shaking her finger.
“I don’t seem to remember a thing about how I learned,” solemnly declared Billy.
“Why, certainly you do. You learned in the Dolls’ Hospital,” cried Mary Frances.
“Oh, maybe—but don’t tell anybody about it, though I must say that a knowledge of bandaging will be most useful when the boy scouts commence their class in advanced first-aid work.”
There They Were!
“Will Miss Bossem be their teacher?” teased Mary Frances.
“Aw! Stop talking about that doll of yours dressed up as a nurse, Mary Frances! We boys are beyond the doll-baby age!” Billy walked away in pretended disgust.
“Well,” said Mary Frances to herself, “if Billy hadn’t known how to put on that bandage I would think I had been dreaming. I know what I’ll do! I’ll go see if there are any nurses’ uniforms in the playroom.”
There they were! Each girl doll had one on, just as she wore it at the Fourth of July celebration.
“It must have been real!” concluded Mary Frances. “It must have been! That proves it! Besides, here is Private Brave, and in his wooden hand he is holding the—
