"Who are you?" he gruffly asked, "and what do you want?"
"We want a surgeon or a doctor as soon as we can find one," answered the man at the door. "One of our party has been wounded by accident, and we wish to have his wound dressed."
"Another city sportsman shot for a deer, eh?" said the man in the doorway, with a touch of scorn in his voice. "It's the same old story."
"Yes, the same old story," acknowledged the man at the door. "He may die from the wound if we do not find a doctor very soon."
"There's no doctor nearer than Elizabethtown."
"Is there none in this place?"
"No."
"How far is Elizabethtown?"
"Twenty-five miles."
"How is the road?"