CHAPTER XVII.

HOW MERLE JUMPED FROM A TRAM.

Merle was waiting at the street corner for a tram. It was the day before they were to sail for Melbourne, and she had been to say good-bye to her grandmother; the distance was not great, and she was allowed to make the little trip to and from the hotel by herself. She was impatient, for she was to go on to the hospital to see Dick; and the only part of Merle's day worth consideration to her was the part she spent in being "legs" to the boy. She looked up the long road, fidgeting and frowning to see no tram in sight.

Two men came strolling along and stopped near her, also glancing up the tram track. They went on chatting, without noticing the small figure by the lamp post.

"----won't be out here long," one said, completing a sentence. "No, he's not coming out to practise; just on a visit to Melbourne to see his mother. He's been away four years, and she is getting old."

"He was always a very devoted son, wasn't he?" the other said.

"Yes, very. My brother died when the boy was at school, and he's been everything to his mother. Of course he would have done remarkably well in the ordinary course of things; he had a big practice before he went to Germany. But his mother was as keen as he was about his becoming a specialist, and he has always been determined to keep himself abreast of the latest discoveries in spinal treatment."

"The spine was always Neil's pet subject."

"Yes--he used to say there ought to be another big war, because then surgeons had a chance of finding out things they would never find in ordinary practice. True enough, too. Anyhow, he has been at extended research work in America and Germany these four years, and when he finally comes out he will practise only as a spine specialist. That won't be for another two years, however; this is only a flying visit, as I said."

The word "spine" had caught Merle's idle ears, and she was listening, with parted lips, her breath coming quickly.

"There's the tram," the first man said. "Lunch with us at the club to-morrow, won't you, Onslow? I'd like you to meet my nephew again. The _Occident_ gets in in the morning, and I'm going to run down in the car to meet him, and bring him up for the day."

"Thanks, I'll be delighted," his friend said. He nodded good-bye as the tram rattled up. The first man stood aside courteously to let Merle in, and then sat down in a seat across the aisle. The tram banged its way down the hill.

The conductor said, "Fares, please!" three times, each with mounting impatience, before Merle realised that he was speaking to her. Then she took out her purse and paid him mechanically, with an air so distracted that the conductor reported later to the motorman that there was a kid back there quite cracked.

Her heart was thumping furiously. Someone was on the _Occident_--someone who knew all about spines--who might cure Dick! Someone who would not practise; but if he only saw Dick, he might relent. She did not think anyone could possibly see Dick and not relent. Anyway, if he were asked. And then she realised with a kind of horror that she did not know his name.

She looked across the aisle at the man who had talked about his nephew. He was kind-looking, she thought; short and plump, with a grey beard and nice eyes. He surely would not mind being asked. But to speak to a stranger was a stupendous task to Merle, who found it difficult enough to speak to anyone she knew quite well. The very thought was enough to make her trembling and tongue-tied. Perhaps, if he got off when she did. And just then she looked again, and almost cried aloud in her dismay. The tram had stopped, unnoticed by her, and the man had got off and was walking briskly up a side street.

The conductor's bell had rung, and the tram was already under way as she started up, springing to the side. A woman caught at her dress with an alarmed exclamation; from his end of the car the conductor uttered an angry shout of warning; but Merle did not heed them. She swung herself to the roadway, spinning round as she alighted, and finally falling heavily. The tram was stopped, people were shouting. Her one thought was to get away. She scrambled to her feet, brushing the dust from her dress, and, bruised but determined, raced up the side street.

"It's the cracked kid," reported the conductor gloomily, ringing his car on again. "Wonder why they let her out without a keeper. That's the sort as makes us chaps get bad marks on our tickets!" He stared wrathfully after Merle as long as she was in sight.

The stout gentleman heard running feet behind him, but he was in a hurry, and did not turn until a breathless voice addressed him.

"Oh, please!" Merle panted.

"Bless my soul!" said the man, looking at the dishevelled figure. "Are you hurt? What's the matter?"

"You were talking," Merle choked--and then took a long breath--"about a man on the _Occident_--somebody who knows all about the spine."

"Well--if I was?" said the amazed Westralian.

"Oh, please, would you tell me his name?"

"Why on earth----?"

Merle cut him short.

"Oh, tell me! There's a boy going on the _Occident_ with a hurt spine--he might look at him! It wouldn't hurt you."

"Well----" began the man, staring at her. "My nephew won't practise, if that's what you mean. But his name is Neil Fraser, if you must know. Better not tell him I told you, for he's on a holiday, and doesn't want to think about spines!"

"He couldn't help it if he knew Dick!" said Merle solemnly. "Thanks, very much." She turned. "I must go and catch another tram."

"I think you had better let me brush you down a bit first," said the Westralian, suiting the action to the word. "I've got daughters myself, and if your mother sees the state your frock is in----!"

Merle submitted to his ministrations more or less gratefully. At the moment it would not have mattered to her if she had no frock at all. She was seething with excited hope. Each night she prayed blindly, desperately, to some God she did not in the least realise that He would make Dick well--that He would let her work out her wickedness by taking Dick's pain, if He only could. Perhaps God was really there, after all--perhaps He really meant to help! She said good-bye to the fatherly Westerner, and managed to get back to the hotel--how, she never knew. A great thought had come to her. She had heard of cases of skin-graft--taking skin from a sound person to heal another's wound. Perhaps this wonderful new man could take a piece of her spine and put it into Dick's. She knelt down by her bed, and prayed wildly to God that He would arrange it.

"It doesn't matter what becomes of me," she said. "Daddy has two sons, and I'm only a girl--and they've only Dick. And it's all my fault. If you can fix it so's he'll be able to walk soon, before he gets any discourageder, I don't care what you do to me. Oh, God, won't you let this Fraser man know all about spines like Dick's!" It was a queer prayer; but who shall say that it did not go straight upwards?

The burden of Merle's secret was heavy upon her as she climbed the gangway of the _Occident_ next day. She had not dared to speak to anyone, in a childish fear of being ridiculed; and the temptation to speak to Dick was so strong that in resisting it she became entirely silent, until Dick grew worried, and said finally, "Look here, Legs, old girl, are you really sure you want to come?"

"Want to come?" She looked at him in a dazed way. "Oh, I never wanted anything so much in my life! You don't want to leave me behind, do you?"

"Rather not!" Dick said, relieved. "You're jolly good to me, you know, old Legs! Only I thought you were a bit down in the mouth at leaving your father. Sure you're not?"

She shook her head emphatically.

"No. He wants me to go with you. You can send me back any time, you know, to Grannie. But even if you send me back at once, I want to go on the _Occident_."

Dick, being a gentleman, was indignant.

"You make me feel like a perfect beast!" he said warmly. "I don't want to send you back at all--and I wish you wouldn't talk as if you were a beastly parcel! You're coming up to Kurrajong with us, and you'll have to ride Tinker for me until I can ride him myself."

Until he could ride himself! The words were in her ears as she climbed the gangway, up which two sailors had carried Dick's stretcher carefully a moment before. She went to the side of the ship, scanning the faces of the passengers as they came along the pier, wondering which could be "Neil Fraser," and hoping that any man with a specially kind face would be he. The time passed, and the cry of "Visitors ashore!" startled her. Then she heard her father's voice behind her.

"That you, Merle? I'm going." His big face was sadder than she had ever seen it, and he kissed her gently. She flushed; he had not often kissed her since Dick's accident. "Be a good girl, and do all you possibly can for that poor boy. Remember, none of us can ever make up what we have cost him. If--if you see anything he would like, buy it for him--you can have all the money you want." He half turned, and she heard him say miserably under his breath, "If one were not so helpless!" Then he put his hand on her shoulder. "It's something--just a little--if you can be legs for him. Don't spare yourself."

"I won't," she said. "Oh, I won't, daddy!"

He kissed her again, and went down the gangway. She watched his huge form threading its way along the pier. His head was bent down, and he did not look back again.

Dick did not leave his cabin that evening. He was tired with the excitement of starting, and was, moreover, developing an invalid's dread of being stared at. The nurses kept him very quiet; even Merle was not allowed inside the cabin, and she wandered about miserably, handicapped by her shyness, and wondering how, in the crowded mail steamer, she was ever going to find a man she did not know. She went to bed with the problem still unsolved, slept badly, and got up early in the morning, dressing as noiselessly as possible in order not to disturb the nurse whose cabin she shared. In the alleyway she met a steward, and a sudden thought came to her.

"Steward," she said, "do you know which is Mr. Fraser's cabin?"

"Not in my lot," said the steward carelessly. "You don't know 'is number, by any chance?"

"No."

"Well, I dunno. Ask some of the other stewards--or the purser'd tell you, of course."

Merle's courage was fast oozing away; to tackle the purser, a mysterious and terrible individual of great power, was a task beyond her. She dived into her pocket and produced a bright half-crown.

"You find out for me," she said, proffering the coin, which the steward pocketed with an adroitness born of long habit. "It's very important; I've got to know soon. I'll come down after breakfast, and you tell me and I'll give you another."

"Right-oh!" said the steward, with a new respect for a small girl who could distribute half-crowns with such large ease. "I'll 'ave 'is number ready for you, miss."

Dick was better; a good night had made him inclined for breakfast, and he was longing to get out into the fresh air, even if people did look at him. He kept Merle busy, running errands and telling him all about the passengers; and it was not until the nurses were ready to prepare him for going out that she was able to slip away and hurry down to her own cabin.

The steward met her, rather aggrieved.

"Nice little jig-saw puzzle you set me, miss!" he said. "Mr. Fraser, you says; well, there's seven Frasers on board! Now which is it?"

Merle's face fell.

"Seven!" she exclaimed. "How will I ever--oh, but, of course, his name's Neil!"

"Ah, that's something like," said the steward, cheering up. He consulted a paper in his hand. "Neil--that's N. Well, there's two N. Frasers, apparently, miss; N. F. Fraser in 352, and N. H. Fraser in 279. Now, which is your mark, I wonder?"

"I don't know," Merle said hopelessly. "Couldn't you find out for me?"

A sudden cry of "Smithers!" smote upon the ear of the steward.

"That's me," he said hurriedly. "'Fraid I'll 'ave to go, miss--that's my chief 'owlin'. You won't 'ave any difficulty in findin' your man--just try each in turn." He put the paper into her hand, and almost mechanically Merle parted with her second half-crown, and watched him rush off in response to another call.

Merle stood looking at the paper for a helpless moment. To track these mysterious Frasers to their lairs seemed a task beyond her courage. Still, there was nothing to be gained by putting it off--and the sooner she set about finding her man, the sooner would her suspense about Dick be relieved. So she set her lips firmly and went off along the alleyways, hunting for one of the numbers she wanted.

She found one presently--279. No one was about, and she knocked at the door timidly. There was no response at first; but presently awful sounds arose, and Merle realised with a shudder of horror that the inmate of 279 was extremely seasick!

She took to her heels, rushing wildly along the corridor until she considered herself at a safe distance--scarcely realising that nothing was further than pursuit from the mind of the unfortunate 279. Then she stopped to consider the position; what she should do if the terrible man she had heard was indeed the object of her quest; what, if, as might well be, 352 was in no better case. There seemed nothing to be gained by standing still, however, so she wandered up companions and along alleyways until she found herself confronting the second cabin on her list.

The door was shut, and she stood trying to summon up her courage to knock; and feeling the said courage rapidly oozing from her. But before she had time to make up her mind, the door opened suddenly, and a man came out, so quickly that he nearly knocked her over.

"I beg your pardon!" he said, stepping back. "I didn't know anyone was there." He looked mildly surprised; but his voice was pleasant and his clean-shaven face was so keen and alert, and his eyes were so kindly, that Merle was suddenly no longer afraid. "Did you knock?" he went on. "Were you looking for anyone?"

"I'm looking for someone called Neil Fraser," Merle stammered. "I do hope you're him!"

"Well--I am!" he said, and laughed. "Why did you want me?"

Twice she tried to speak, and could not. He saw the struggle in her face and patted her shoulder. "Is anything wrong?" he asked. "I am a doctor--can I help you? Come in and tell me."

He drew her into the cabin. Merle made a tremendous effort, and her words came with a rush.

"I know all about you," she said. "You've been all over the world finding out all about spines, and now you've got to cure Dick's!"

"Dick's?" he said. "What's wrong with Dick's?"

"It's all wrong--broken or something. I don't know what. It's all my fault, anyhow; cause I went out and the blacks nearly got me, only Dick came after me--and they speared him, and he fell off Conqueror when he was galloping, and lobbed on some rocks, and now they say he'll never walk again. And he must walk--you don't know how splendid he is! He's only thirteen, and you couldn't let a boy like that be a cripple all his life if you could cure him!"

Suddenly she went down on her knees before him, catching at his hand.

"Can't you do what they do with skin when they graft it?" she prayed. "Can't you take a bit of my spine? You can have every bit of it, if it'll make Dick's all right. I know it's quite a good spine, if you'll only use it!"

If he wanted to laugh he did not show it. He pulled her to her feet gently.

"I can't do that," he said; "we're not clever enough yet. But I'll do what I can, though, of course, I can't promise to cure him. Tell me more about Dick. Where is he?"

"He's on the ship. We came on yesterday. His father and mother--and two nurses, and me. He's in a deck cabin; I'll take you to see him if you'll come; he'll be out on deck now."

"How long is it since he was hurt?"

"Over two months. It was up on our station. They got Dr. Brereton from Perth up to him first, and then they took him to Perth in an ambulance Now they're taking him to Melbourne, and they'll take him all over the world to try and get him cured. And--" her voice broke into sobs, and tears ran down her face--"he doesn't know they say he'll always be a cripple. He lies so still, but he's always planning for when he's going to get up and ride again."

"Poor lad!" said Dr. Fraser. "And are you his sister?"

"Me?" said Merle. "No; I'm just his legs!"

"Are you?" he said, and laughed for the first time. "Well, you're a plucky little girl, anyhow. Shall we come up and see Dick?"

They went up together. Dick was lying in the shade of a deck house, a nurse beside him. He opened his eyes as Merle came up, and grinned at her.

"Hullo, old Legs!" he said. "Where have you been? I've been out ever so long."

"Oh, just about," said Merle vaguely. "Dick this is--er--Neil Fraser." She flushed scarlet, conscious of the peculiar nature of the introduction.

Dr. Fraser sat down near the stretcher, apparently unconscious of anything unusual. Dick had shrunk into his shell at the idea of speaking to a stranger, but this man proved to be a very decent sort of person, with no tactless ways of looking at a fellow's stretcher, or of making silly inquiries as to how long a fellow had been ill. He chatted away, in a low pleasant voice, and actually of horses! He had been, it seemed, in the western states of America, and had the queerest stories of cowboys and their ways and their horses, told in a quaint American drawl that made them irresistibly funny.

The nurse slipped away. A little way off Mr. and Mrs. Lester were talking to the captain; they glanced round once or twice, hearing Dick laugh as he had not laughed since his accident. The poor mother flushed with pleasure.

"Listen to my boy," she said. "Who is his new friend, captain?"

The captain looked round.

"A nice fellow, and a clever one," he said. "Dr. Neil Fraser, of Melbourne. I believe he's a spine specialist, but I don't know for certain. Wonder if he could do your boy any good, Mrs. Lester? He can make him laugh, that's certain."

The father and mother stared at each other.

"A spine specialist!" Mrs. Lester murmured.

"So our doctor says. He's a quiet fellow, with I don't know how many letters after his name; but he's out for a holiday, and doesn't mix much with the other passengers. I should say someone must have told him about your boy."

"One of the nurses, perhaps," Mr. Lester said. "I wonder----" He paused, and looked long at Neil Fraser's face, and came to Dick's conclusion that it was a face to invite confidence. The captain strolled off to talk to other passengers. John Lester put his hand on his wife's arm.

"Shall we go and speak to him?"

"No, don't go," she said. "He and Dick are getting on famously--let us leave them to make friends. John, do you think----"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "Somehow when I saw him beside Dick a queer wave of hope came over me. I'd almost forgotten what hope was like. He looks clever, Jean."

"And kind," she said. "Let us go and find the ship's doctor, and ask him about him."

The ship's doctor, a grizzled old Scot, had only good words to say of Neil Fraser.

"He's going to be a great man," he said. "I heard of him in London from my brother--a doctor in Harley Street. He did some great work at Munich, did Fraser, and I knew of a case he tackled in London with extraordinary results. Oh, I'd certainly advise you to talk to him, Mr. Lester. He's not practising, of course, but I'm certain he wouldn't refuse to give you an opinion, at least."

"Does he only doctor spines?" asked Mrs. Lester.

"From all I hear," said the Scot drily, "he's disinclined to recognise any part of the body but the spine! He's spine mad." He hesitated. "I tell you this, Mrs. Lester; whatever opinion he gives you I don't think you need go past it. If Neil Fraser can't cure your boy there is no one, in Australia at any rate, who can."

Outside the surgery the Lesters looked in each other's eyes.

"Jean!" he said. "Take care, dearest; don't let yourself hope too much."

"I shouldn't, I suppose," she said, trembling. "But--we've prayed, John; who knows if God has not sent us on this ship to answer us!"

"Come and we'll find him," her husband said.

Neil Fraser was still talking to Dick. The boy called them eagerly as they came up.

"That's father and mother!" he said. "Do come here; this is Mr. Fraser, and he has been telling me most gorgeous yarns. Tell them about the pony and the rattlesnake, Mr. Fraser--I'd love to hear it again."

Neil Fraser told the story, and they were all laughing when the nurse came up with a steaming cup in her hand.

"More nourishment!" said Dick, disgustedly. "My word, I'll be glad when I'm well and can have just food to eat and not nourishment! Why do you have to be nourished when you're ill, and not fed?"

"That's one of the great problems we've never solved," said Fraser, laughing. "Never mind, Dick--it looks good."

"Oh, it's always good," said Dick, grinning up at the nurse. "It's only its name I'm grumbling at."

"Indeed, I'd call it anything you like, so long as you leave me an empty cup," she said with spirit, pulling his hair.

"We'll leave him; he doesn't like an audience," said Mr. Lester, as the second nurse appeared. They strolled out of sight, and then he turned to Fraser suddenly.

"Will you come to our cabin for a little?" he said.

In the cabin they looked at each other.

"They tell us you are a specialist in such cases as our boy's," John Lester said. "Will you undertake Dick?"

Fraser hesitated.

"I'll examine him, and give you an opinion, if you wish," he said. "I can't say more until we see the result of the examination."

"Will you do it on the ship?"

The doctor shook his head.

"I'd rather not. The slightest roll, or vibration of the screw might make a difference."

"I'm glad," said Mrs. Lester. "Dick is happy--let him have his time on board in peace."

"Yes, that's so," Fraser agreed. He looked at her eager face pityingly.

"Don't build up false hopes," he said. "These cases are very difficult; there are a hundred reasons why I should not succeed where other men fail. The little girl told me the Perth men had pronounced against your boy's recovery."

"The little girl!" John Lester echoed.

"Yes; the one Dick calls 'Legs.' She came to my cabin and dragged me up to see Dick. I don't know how she knew anything about me, but she begged me, on her knees, to take out her spine and use it for Dick."

"Poor little soul!" said John Lester huskily. He put his arm around his wife. She had broken down as, even in those hard days, she had not done before. Over her bent shoulders he looked at the doctor.

"I don't want to build up hopes," he said, "and the Perth men certainly did give us none. But they admitted there was a loophole; that no one understood everything about the spine. They tell us you know more than most men."

"Well, I have studied nothing else for four years," Fraser said. "And fresh discoveries are bound to take place. We cure things now that ten years ago would certainly have been hopeless. But I'm only a learner, as any honest doctor must admit himself. I shall be a learner all my life. It may be--it is possible--that I may find some solution of your son's trouble. I'll do my best. Only don't be too hopeful."

He got up, clenching his hand.

"And still, never give up hope," he said. "More cases are lost through hopelessness than you would dream of. We're only beginning to know the power of thought; but this I can assure you, that if you surround your boy with an atmosphere of hope and courage you go far towards helping him, just as you help to drag him down if your heart is full of despair. He's a boy to fight for, too. Well--I don't even know your name yet--but I'll do my best to help you fight!"