“You the doctor?” Nick asked the latter, and without awaiting a reply added: “I landed my ship at McLearson. As soon as we get the men on board it I’ll have them to a hospital in Little Rock within forty-five minutes—or kill them trying to get off the ground.”
Doctor Matthies, a short, stumpy man, still very wet from his walk through the water from town, introduced himself.
“We’d kill the brakeman if we tried to take him to town on a hand-car through this water,” he said. “We thought of trying that, but he’s too weak to be moved with safety. He ought to be in a hospital—quickly; but we can’t take him there on any hand-car!”
“That’s what I been a-tellin’ him all the way out here!” the station agent said resentfully. “But he don’t seem like one to—”
“Shut up!” Nick barked. “Doctor Matthies, I landed just as close to the wreck as I could get. This hand-car is the only way to get the men to my ship. If the brakeman can’t be moved, suppose you stay here with him and I’ll take the others to town. I’ve got to hurry—it’ll be dark in a little while and I’ll have—”
A woman’s wail inside the caboose startled him. He heard the groans of one of the injured men.
“What the hell!” he ejaculated. “Is a woman out here too?”
“The brakeman’s daughter,” Doctor Matthies replied. “She came out with me as soon as we got word. Couldn’t keep her at home—insisted on coming. She waded out through that water right behind me!”
Just at that moment the girl came to the doorway of the car and stood, a handkerchief clutched in her hands, looking at the four men. She was sobbing brokenly; there was about her a note of tragedy, Nick thought, but at the same time fortitude. Through tear-filled eyes she looked quickly from one man to the other.
“Can’t you do something?” she choked. “Don’t just let him lie there like that and suffer and—and—”