There was a short interval of silence. It seemed many minutes to the doctor. Then, “Get up!” said the voice ahead.
Letty was waiting for him when he turned in at the corral gate, though it was long past midnight. He had been under a severe strain, but she had been under a greater. He saw that when he lifted the lantern she brought him and looked into her face.
“Good news,” he told her, speaking low. “The baby’s there.”
Five minutes later he was back in his office once more and had Blue Top on the telephone. “Come,” was his message. “I’ve got a clue, Mr. Eastman. But don’t bring nobody with you.”
It seemed to him that he had only just lain down to rest when he was up again, admitting Eastman, who had come as quick as a horse could carry him. The father was more dishevelled than ever; and on his haggard, unshaven face stood out the sweat of effort and anxiety. Three days of agony had aged him.
“Oh, my boy!” were his first words.
“I know where he is, but I don’t know how to git there,” said the doctor. Briefly he explained.
Eastman, half distracted, paced the floor as he listened. “Oh, tell me what to do,” he cried when the doctor had finished. “My wife—it’s killing her.”
“The medicine I left’ll keep the sick feller up till this evenin’.”
“I’ll follow you to-night, then. Oh, I must! I must! The boy’ll need me. They dragged him over all those miles. Think of it! And wore out his poor little legs.”