“Gitney says that Reynolds ought to come along all right, as far as the mere wound itself is concerned,” Hazelton added. “What will have to be looked out for is suppuration. If pus forms in and around the wound it may carry Reynolds off, for there are no hospital conveniences to be had in this wild neck of the woods.”
“Is the doctor staying with Reynolds?” Tom asked, still using the glasses on the hilly country that lay ahead.
“No; he has gone back to Mr. Thurston and Mr. Blaisdell,” Hazelton answered. “Doc says he’ll have to be with them to quiet them in case the firing gets close. He says both men will become excited and try to jump out of bed and come over here. Doc says he’s going to strap ’em both down.”
“Dr. Gitney may be badly needed here, if a fight opens,” Tom mused aloud.
“He says, if we need him, to send for him.”
“Come through a hot fire?” Tom gasped.
“Surely! Doc Gitney is a Colorado man, born and bred. He doesn’t mind a lead shower when it comes in the line of duty,” laughed Harry. “Now, if you’re through using me as a messenger, I’m going to find a rifle.”
“You won’t succeed,” Tom retorted. “Every rifle in camp already has an amateur soldier behind it.”
“Just my luck!” growled Harry.
“You’re a good, husky lad,” Tom continued. “If you want to be of real use, just lie down hug the earth, take good care not to be hit, and——-”