There was not a doctor in the camp. Roy decided that the man must receive professional attention at once or die.
“I’ll try it,” he announced to Stenhouse’s assistants. “It may be too late, but he’ll certainly die here.”
“He’ll die anyway,” argued one of the men, “it’s desert fever. No use to make sure o’ two o’ you kickin’ in.”
“Ain’t no sense uv it in a night like this,” said another. “He’ll git vi’lent afore the end.”
But Roy did not consider the matter of his own safety. He realized that directing an aeroplane almost a hundred miles in black night with an unconscious man in his charge was a perilous venture, but the sight of the boy’s drawn face outweighed this argument. Giving the sick man a hypodermic injection of digitalis and strychnine, he waited only for some slight improvement in the patient’s heart action. Then he made his preparations.
Roy’s operating seat was just back of the engine. Between his feet and the motor, a pallet of blankets was made. Laying the unconscious form of Stenhouse diagonally across the section in front of him, Roy made ready his acetylene gas light, affixed the lamp to his head and with the brilliant shaft shooting out over the dark sands made a start for Bluff.
For an hour, he sat like a man of wood. The whirring propellers and an occasional groan from the sick man were all that marked his flight. His compass route he knew. This instrument he had tied to the section floor where he could throw the search light upon it from time to time.
About the time he calculated that he was half way to Bluff, Stenhouse suddenly made an effort to arise. As Roy’s right hand was controlling the forward and rear rudder, he used his engine hand to gently force the disturbed man back to his cot. At the same time noticing that the engineer’s fever was rising. The delirium had set in again.
Perhaps another quarter of an hour passed. Then the prostrate man again attempted to rise. The strain was telling on Roy, for, with neither light nor landmark to guide him, he was flying at top speed toward an unseen destination. The ceaseless operation of the rudders, the effort to watch the compass and his ears ever open for a possible variation in the hum of the engine and propellers would have unnerved the boy had he not steeled himself to his task. When Stenhouse attempted to get upon his knees, Roy again reached forward with his left hand to calm him.
To his horror, the sick man did not relax. Instead, with sudden and unexpected strength, he continued his effort. The cold perspiration broke out on the boy. He spoke soothingly and then sternly ordered the man to lie down. But there was no response. The next moment, Stenhouse was upon his hands and knees and made renewed efforts to get up.