“We kids’ll take care o’ Mikky!” said Buck proudly. “He tooked care of Jinney when she was sick, an’ we’ll take care o’ Mikky, all right, all right. You jes’ brang him out an’ we’ll fetch a wheelbarry an’ cart him off’n yer han’s. Mikky wouldn’t want to be in dare wid de rich guys.”
“My dear fellow,” said the doctor, quite touched by the earnestness in Buck’s eyes, “that’s very good of you, I’m sure, and Mikky ought to appreciate his friends, but he’s being taken care of perfectly right where he is and he couldn’t be moved. It might kill him to move him, and if he stays where he is he will get well. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he added as he saw the lowering distress in the dumb eyes before him, “I’ll give you a bulletin every day. You be here tonight at five o’clock when I come out of the house and I’ll tell you just how he is. Then you needn’t worry about him. He’s in a beautiful room lying on a great big white bed and he has everything nice around him, and when I came away he was sleeping. I can take him a message for you when I go in tonight, if you like.”
Half doubtfully the boy looked at him.
“Will you tell Mikky to drop us down word ef he wants annythin’? Will you ast him ef he don’t want us to git him out?”
“Sure!” said the doctor in kindly amusement. “You trust me and I’ll make good. Be here at five o’clock sharp and again tomorrow at quarter to eleven.”
“He’s only a slum kid!” grumbled the officer. “’Tain’t worth while to take so much trouble. ’Sides, the folks won’t want um botherin’ ’round.”
“Oh, he’s all right!” said the doctor. “He’s a friend worth having. You might need one yourself some day, you know. What’s your name, boy? Who shall I tell Mikky sent the message?”
“Buck,” said the child gravely, “Fightin’ Buck, they calls me.”
“Very appropriate name, I should think,” said the doctor smiling. “Well, run along Buck and be here at five o’clock.”
Reluctantly the boy moved off. The officer again took up his stand in front of the house and quiet was restored to the street.