“A broken leg?” mused the doctor.
“Yes, and hurt inside.”
“How did it happen?” said the doctor.
“Eh? I don't know exactly,” replied Sam, taken somewhat aback. “Somethin' fell on him. But he needs you bad.”
“I can't go, my man, but we'll find some one. What's his name did you say?”
“His name is Cameron, and he's from Scotland.”
“Cameron?” said the sharp-faced young doctor. “What does he look like?”
“Look like?” said Sam in a perplexed voice. “Well, the girls all think he looks pretty good. He's dark complected and he's a mighty smart young feller. Great on jumpin' and runnin'. Say, he's a crackajack. Why, at the Dominion Day picnic! But you must a' heard about him. He's the chap, you know, that won the hundred yards. Plays the pipes and—”
“Plays the pipes?” cried Dr. Turnbull and the young doctor together.
“And his name's Cameron?” continued the young doctor. “I wonder now if—”