“It’s blinding me—the sun shining on those icebergs!” he shouted out. Then he shivered. “The cold—the cold!” he added. “Seventy-two below at noon! I’m perishing!”
“He’s out of his mind—he’s delirious,” exclaimed Randy, very greatly alarmed. He replaced the package on the table and hastened down the stairs. The woman below was just wiping off the stone sill of the street doorway.
“Quick!” he spoke—“the gentleman upstairs is dangerously ill.”
“I knew that,” interrupted the woman. “I wanted to bring him hot tea when I was cleaning up his room just now, but he said it was nothing.”
“He is in a fever and out of his head,” said Randy. “Could you go up and stay with him till I come back and watch him to see that he does himself no harm? I must fetch a doctor at once.”
“Surely I’ll attend to him,” responded the woman, readily.
“Where can I find the nearest doctor?” inquired Randy.
“There’s none very near here that I know of,” said the woman. “The way we do is to go to the nearest drug store.”
“Keep a watch on Mr. Randall,” was Randy’s hasty direction, and he bolted through the open doorway for the street.
He almost ran into two men who stood at one side of the steps as he flew down them. They must have overheard his conversation with the landlady of the house, was the thought that flitted through Randy’s mind. He was so intent on calling aid for the sufferer, however, that he paid no particular attention to the men.