"Bring the young man in here," called the physician, appearing in the doorway of the tent. "We'll soon find out how bad the injury is."
Tag was lowered down upon the blanket.
"Which foot is it?" asked Dr. Bentley.
"Left," replied Tag.
Dr. Bentley deftly removed the shoe, causing hardly more than a trace of pain. Tag insisted on raising himself on his elbow to look on. It was the first time he had ever been under a doctor's care.
Dick took one look at the wistful eyes of the father, as Mr. Page stood by the head of the cot, resting one hand on his supposed son's shoulder.
"Come outside, fellows," called Dick. "Doctor, we'll be outside if you want anything."
The onlookers in the tent started to go outside, except the father and the physician.
"Come back, Hibbert," called Mr. Page softly. "You've been at least a son to me during the last year. Now, remain and help me to get acquainted with my own son."
Tag was silent. He could take punishment, and Dr. Bentley was now hurting him quite a bit in his effort to get at the exact nature of the injury.