Cub Sterling’s left shoulder rose abruptly. His voice ascended, too:
“Be careful. Take it easy ... easy ... these steps are high!”
While the stretcher was rolling into the Accident corridor, Cub lurched into both accident rooms, saw that the tables were occupied, and turned to the internes:
“I’ll take her up to Medicine Clinic, myself. Internal injuries. Just got a telephone message. Father’s a friend of mine in the East. ’Phone Miss Kerr to prepare Room Two off Ward B.”
Halfway up the corridor to the Medicine Clinic a student nurse and an orderly stepped briskly. The orderly gripped the handle bar of a swishing stretcher. Upon the stretcher, completely covered, lay an inert figure.
Five feet behind, his shoulders stooped, his body tense, slouched Dr. Ethridge Sterling, Junior. Upon either side of him, like stubby pencils, a fireman tiptoed. Cub bit his lips and said:
“Who called you?”
“Where? When? For what?” the one with the cud growled.
Cub threw his hand forward, motioning.
The younger fireman answered: