“Is anything the matter with Ruth?” asked the mother, the instant she caught the dim outlines of the boys.
“Nothing at all,” replied Alvin; “she is in her bed and asleep.”
“Thank heaven!” was the grateful exclamation as the woman sank back and clasped her hands. Her husband had held the paddle suspended until he heard the reply. Now he dipped the implement deep and with a couple of vigorous strokes sent the craft with a bump against the beach.
“What’s the trouble, Alvin?” he asked while helping his wife out and drawing the canoe a little way up the bank.
“One of the boys fell out of a tree this afternoon and broke his leg.”
“I am sorry to hear that; I shan’t need my instruments,” he remarked in the cool business tone of the professional man; “lead the way, boys.”
Scout Master Hall and several of the boys had come out on the porch and all welcomed the physician and his wife.
“Business first and pleasure afterward,” remarked the medical man as he stepped across the threshold and went to the bunk in which Jack Crandall had been lifted. The blazing wood in the fireplace and the bright lamp overhead filled the room with light as bright as day. Jack looked up and smiled, with an apology for the trouble he was causing the doctor, who without replying to his words, made a quick but thorough examination of the hurt.
“Beautiful! beautiful!” he exclaimed; “it is one of the most beautiful fractures I ever saw.”
It sounded odd, but it was professional.