“A doctor can't help me.”
“Perhaps he can.”
“I haven't any faith in doctors. A doctor operated on my mother and killed her.”
“But Doctor Gardner is a nice man. He will do all he can for you, I am sure,” urged Joe.
“Well, Dr. Gardner is a good fellow I admit. If you—can—can get him—I'll—I'll—” The sufferer tried to go on but could not.
“I think I can get him. But I hate to leave you alone.” And Joe stared around helplessly. He wished he had Ned with him.
“Never mind—give me a drink—then go,” answered Hiram Bodley. He had often taken Doctor Gardner out to hunt with him and liked the physician not a little.
Inside of five minutes Joe was on the way to the doctor's residence, which was on the outskirts of Riverside. He had left the hermit as comfortable as possible, on a mattress and covered with a cloth to keep off the night air,—for it was now growing late and the sun had set behind the mountains.
Tired though he was the boy pulled with might and main, and so reached the dock of the physician's home in a short space of time. Running up the walk of the neatly-kept garden, he mounted the piazza and rang the bell several times.
“What's the matter?” asked Doctor Gardner, who came himself to answer the summons.