CHAPTER XXV

OFF FOR HELP

Professor Snodgrass lay quiet after his outburst. He fell back on the cot, from which he had raised himself, and his relaxed features took on a paler hue.

“Some more of that ammonia!” cried Jerry, for they had been trying to rouse the scientist by doses of that valuable stimulant. A little was forced between his lips, but it availed only for a moment, and then he sank back into a coma.

“Something must be done!” declared Bob.

“Yes, and pretty soon, too,” added Ned. He looked at Jerry for a solution of the problem.

“We’ll have to go for help,” responded the tall lad. “We can’t possibly treat him ourselves. There must be a doctor somewhere around.”

“If we only had Dr. Wright!” sighed Bob.

“Well, we haven’t got him, and can’t get him,” observed Jerry. “We’ll have to do the best we can. Now, then, let’s consider what it is.”

“I wonder what he meant by all that talk?” ventured Andy. “It sure did sound mighty queer.”

“We won’t consider that now,” spoke Jerry. “I have an idea it had something to do with those men who are digging the yellow clay, but I can’t be sure. Our first care must be to get the professor attended to, and we can ask him questions later--if he gets better,” Jerry added, dubiously.

There had come into his mind not one thought that the little scientist might have been disloyal to him and his mother. Jerry was big hearted, and big minded, enough not to consider that for a moment.

True, Dr. Snodgrass might have played into the hands of the enemy, knowingly or unknowingly; but, for all that, he was now in danger, and Jerry was not the lad to hold back.

“He spoke of letters--papers,” said Ned, vaguely.

“Yes. Maybe they’re in there,” returned Jerry, nodding toward the specimen boxes and leather cases, which had been near the professor when they picked him up after his fall over the cliff. “We won’t disturb them, though, until we find out how this is going to end,” and he looked at the unconscious form.

“Well, let’s do something,” suggested Ned.

“Sure,” assented Bob. “But what?”

“The doctor--first of all,” exclaimed Jerry. “Ned, do you think you and Andy could make the trip in the boat down to where that old hermit lived? He may know where we can find a local physician.”

“Of course we can go!” cried Ned.

“Then you’d better start. I don’t know just what sort of treatment may be needed, but it seems as though it will mean an operation. And the sooner it’s done, the better chance Professor Snodgrass will have.”

“We’re off!” cried Ned. “Come on, Andy.”

Be it said to the credit of the small chap that he kept his head admirably in this emergency. He was neither excited, nor did he make his chums nervous by his rapid-fire talk, as he sometimes did.

While Ned and Andy were on their way to the moored motor boat to get help, Jerry and Bob made Professor Snodgrass as comfortable as possible. There was little they could do, however, that they had not already done. Or, rather, they were afraid of moving or disturbing him too much, for fear of making his injuries worse.

The afflicted man moaned once or twice, and moved uneasily on the cot bed. Now and then he mumbled something; but what it was neither Jerry nor Bob could distinguish. Once, however, Jerry heard the professor say:

“I can prove it! I’ll not let them keep the land! It was a fraud on me and on them!”

“What does he mean?” asked Bob, wonderingly.

“Hush!” cautioned Jerry. “He may hear you. I fancy he is talking about that clay deposit in our swamp.”

“And maybe he knows something that will let your mother get the land back,” suggested the stout lad.

“Maybe,” assented Jerry. But he had little hope.

Meanwhile Ned and Andy were on their way. There were still several hours of daylight left, and they must make the most of them. The need of a doctor was imperative.

The boat was soon chugging its way down the lake to where the old hermit, who once before had directed the boys, lived in his lonely cabin. He was fishing from a leaky old boat, not far from shore, when the boys puffed up in their craft.

“Easy! Easy!” called the old man, in fretful tones. “You’ll scare all the fish, boys.”

“Can’t help it! We’re sorry!” exclaimed Ned. “But a friend of ours is hurt. Is there any doctor around here?”

“Ha! Someone hurt? That’s too bad! And you need a doctor?” asked the old man, winding in his line.

“Do you know of anyone?” demanded Ned, a bit impatiently.

“Why, yes--that is, Dr. Brown has an office in Tuckerton. He’s a young chap, but pretty good, they say.”

“And where is Tuckerton?” asked Ned.

“About ten miles down the lake.”

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Andy. “That’s a good way to go for a doctor.”

“Huh! Folks up here don’t mind going twice that far,” retorted the hermit. “But hold on! Maybe you can do better than that. Dr. Brown has a patient up here--Old Betsy Blain--about a mile back in the woods,” and he indicated a point back of his log cabin. “The doctor comes to see her twice a week,” the man went on, “and to-day is one of the times. If you hustle over there you may catch him.”

“It’s worth trying, anyhow!” exclaimed Ned. “How can we find the place?”

“There’s a plain trail, back of my shack,” the hermit went on. “You can’t miss it. Betsy’s cabin is the first one you come to. They can tell you there whether the doctor has called to-day or not. If he has, and is gone, you’ll have to go on to his office, I expect.”

“Come on, Andy!” called Ned. “It’s worth a try.”

They tied the motor boat at the small dock near the hermit’s shack, and set off at a fast pace through the woods. As the old man, who said his name was Peter Wantage, had indicated, the trail was a very plain one, and Ned and Andy soon arrived at the cabin in question. In front they saw a horse and carriage tied, and Ned exclaimed:

“The doctor, I’ll wager! We’re in luck.”

“Looks so,” agreed Andy.

And so it proved. An old woman, sitting in front of the cabin, nodded at the boys as they walked up the dirt path. A yellow dog came out, barking at them, but subsided, and wagged his tail in friendly fashion, at a rebuke from the old woman.

“Is the doctor here?” asked Ned.

“Jest goin’,” was the answer, and a little later a tall, slim gentleman, with a professional air about him, came out. He seemed a bit surprised at seeing the boys, for, clearly, they were not of the class of dwellers in that vicinity.

“Are you looking for me?” asked Dr. Brown, for it was he.

“Yes!” exclaimed Ned eagerly, and in a few words he explained what had happened.

“I’ll go with you at once, of course,” said the doctor, gravely. He turned to his horse.

“We can take you there much quicker in the motor boat,” declared Ned. “You can leave your horse here, or at Mr. Wantage’s place, and we’ll bring you back there.”

“Very good,” assented Dr. Brown. “But I fancy I had better leave Prince here. It isn’t a very good road in to Wantage’s place. I’ll leave him here.”

Nodding good-bye to the old woman the doctor set off after Ned and Andy. The walk back to where they had left the motor boat did not take long, and it seemed very short, for the physician, who carried his black bag, asked all sort of questions concerning the accident to Professor Snodgrass. Of course Ned and Andy could tell him little as to the nature of the injury.

To Jerry and Bob, waiting in the lonely cabin, beside the injured man, the absence of Ned and Andy seemed a long one. But really they made very good time, and bringing the doctor back with them was a distinct advantage.

Dr. Brown walked in and stood over the slowly-breathing professor. He looked at him critically, lifted up the lids of the closed eyes, and then examined the hurt on the head. Then he straightened up with a long breath.

“Well?” asked Jerry anxiously.

“An operation is needed,” said Dr. Brown slowly. “And of such a delicate nature that I dare not perform it. I have not had experience enough. It needs a skilled hand to do what is needed to save his life. I dare not attempt it!”