“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Have the stretcher brought here at once.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
The stretcher was brought, and the attendants put Truax on it.
“I can walk, Doctor,” he protested feebly.
“Can't risk it! To the 'sick bay,' men.”
“What's wrong, Doctor?” Truax asked, when he was lifted from the stretcher and placed in one of the berths.
“Don't talk, my man. Just lie quietly and let us get you on your feet—if we can,” he added under his breath, but not so softly but that Sam Truax heard him.
[pg 206] The attendant came with a glass of liquid.
“Drink this,” ordered the surgeon, “and in a few minutes you'll feel better.”