"Good Lord!" exploded Burford.
"What is it?" Hale demanded.
"Mitchel's reaction," said Burford. "Hasn't happened twice in thirty years. I never thought—"
"Is it dangerous, Charley?"
"Lord, yes. Wait till I get the handbook." Shoemaker heard his quick steps, then pages being riffled.
When he thought it was safe, Shoemaker sneaked a look out of one eye. The other two men were pressed close to Burford, staring over his shoulders. Their backs were to him, but he kept jerking his body occasionally anyway, just to be on the safe side.
"Treatment," said Burford hoarsely, "extended rest on soft diet, diathermy, u. v. irradiation, hourly injection of—Hell, we can't do that. We haven't got half the stuff."
"What happens if he don't get it, Charley?" said Davies nervously. "I mean to say, how long—"
Burford flipped pages. "General debility, progressing rapidly, followed by heart stoppage and death after four to ten weeks."
"Oh, my," said Davies. "What'll we do, Charley? I mean—"