Pietro, obeyed, amazed and loyal.
"Frank?" Hot relief surged in Kenny's heart at the chance ease of connection. "Kenny speaking."
"Hello, Kenny. Nothing doing for me tonight, old man. I've got to sleep."
"I need you, Frank. Brian has been injured—badly—in a quarry explosion."
"Kenny!"
"A chance of skull fracture," said Kenny steadily. "That means?"
"A possible operation."
"Can you leave with me at eleven o'clock to-night, Pennsylvania Terminal? It will mean at least two days. He's at Finlake, Pennsylvania, barely conscious—in the hands of a country doctor."
The brilliant industrious young surgeon on the other end gasped and whistled. He worked and played at heavy pressure.
"Kenny, old man," he said, "nothing is impossible. Almost this is. But it's you and Brian and that's enough, I'll meet you at quarter of eleven. I'll go—thoroughly prepared. Do you feel like telling me more?"