“We will do everything possible,” said Mr. Holwell, quietly. “I know very little about surgery myself, but Mr. Rowland, here, has some surgical knowledge, and I’ve heard it said that one of these boys has done things that have won him warm praise from Doctor Bowen in Cliffwood. Please take us to the lad, Madam.”
They found Josh in a bad way, and looking ghastly white, for he had indeed lost a large amount of blood. It was Leslie Capes of whom the minister had spoken so highly as they entered the house. Mr. Rowland had before this discovered Leslie’s dexterity and ability, and motioned to him to go ahead with the work, standing back ready to give instant help if necessary. Without a second’s delay Leslie undid the rude bandages with which the anxious parents had swathed the limb, and exposed the gash.
It was indeed a serious wound, and if no help had come, within another hour or so the boy would probably have died from loss of blood. Dick himself could see that neither of the parents knew the first thing about anatomy, or where to place the knot when they tried to form a tourniquet that could be twisted, and by pressure on the artery cause the bleeding to cease.
The two boys set to work with a vim that pleased Mr. Holwell and Mr. Rowland exceedingly, and it was pitiful to see how the distracted father and mother followed every little move the amateur surgeons made.
First of all Leslie constructed a new tourniquet, and managed to stop the loss of precious life fluid. Then he had the mistress of the house fetch him warm water and a basin, and washed the boy’s foot and leg, after which he bound the limb up.
“You must hurry over to your nearest neighbor, Mr. Jones,” he told the farmer, “and borrow a horse, so as to go to town for a doctor. That artery will have to be sewed, and I’m not quite able to tackle such a job yet, though I hope to do it in time. This tourniquet will prevent the blood from coming, though it isn’t good to keep it on for more than a few hours.”
“Then you think he’ll pull through all right, do you, Doctor?” asked the mother, so filled with gratitude that she gave Leslie a title that he was proud of ever afterwards.
“Not any doubt about it,” he told her, so warmly that the man and his wife turned and looked into each other’s eyes, and then cried for sheer joy as they embraced each other.
Mr. Holwell saw to it that the farmer hurried off to the neighbor’s house, which lay a mile or so further on. He could get a horse there, and reach the nearest town.
Of course none of the party felt like returning to the camp until it was known that the doctor had been reached; so they spent the rest of that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday afternoon on the farm. The good woman of the house bustled about from time to time when she dared leave her boy, and saw to it that the visitors were well looked after, pressing fresh buttermilk upon them, apples and cake and everything that she thought the heart of a genuine boy could wish for.