"N-n-not long," answered Truax, quite truthfully.
"Take this thermometer under your tongue!"
Sam Truax meekly submitted, then sat, perfectly still, while Doctor McCrea paced the brig for two full minutes. Then the "sawbones" took the thermometer from between Truax's lips and inspected it keenly.
"Hospital man!" rapped out Doctor McCrea, sharply.
"Aye, aye, sir!" reported the man with the Red Cross on his sleeve, reappearing before the door.
"Have the stretcher brought here at once!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Still holding the clinical thermometer in one hand, Doctor McCrea stood keenly regarding the prisoner.
"What on earth is the matter with me?" demanded Truax, speaking somewhat nervously.
"Oh, you'll be all right—soon," replied Doctor McCrea, in what was too plainly a voice of false hope.