Martin nodded. Both men were worn and haggard. They were fighting in the front ranks with the men of their profession—fighting an unknown foe, but bravely gaining confidence.
"The death rate is lower to-day, Bud. Hang to that!"
"I do, Uncle Dave. If it still goes down, will you take a vacation?"
"You are willing to go it alone, boy?"
"Yes!" grimly. "I know I must."
The two men relaxed and smoked peacefully, their feet stretched out to the fire. Their long day warranted this pause. They were strangely alike; strangely unlike. Occasionally their eyes met and then their lips smiled.
They were friends. The blood tie was incidental.
"You ought to be married, Clive."
"Why, especially?"
"A man should; a doctor especially. A wife and children are better to come home to than a pipe—and a housekeeper."