The Ridin' Kid from Powder River

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  DORIS

  Contrast to the rules of the hospital, the head-surgeon was chattingrather intimately with Pete's nurse. They were in the anteroom of thesurgical ward. She was getting ready to go on duty.

  "No, Miss Gray," said the surgeon positively, "he can't hold out muchlonger unless we operate. And I don't think he could stand anoperation. He has amazing vitality, he's young, and in wonderfulcondition--outdoor life and pretty clean living. But he don't seem tocare whether he lives or not. Has he said anything to you about--"The surgeon paused and cleared his throat.

  "No. He just stares at me. Sometimes he smiles--and, Dr. Andover,I've been here two years--and I'm used to it, but I simply can't helpfeeling--that he ought to have a chance."

  The surgeon studied her wistful face and for a moment forgot that hewas the head-surgeon of the General, and that she was a nurse. Heliked Doris Gray because of her personality and ability. Two years ofhard work at the General had not affected her quietly cheerful manner.

  "You're wearing yourself out worrying about this case," said thesurgeon presently. "And that won't do at all."

  She flushed and her seriousness vanished. "I'm willing to," she saidsimply.

  The doctor smiled and shook his finger at her. "Miss Gray, you know agood nurse--"

  "I know, Dr. Andover, but he hasn't a friend in the world. I asked himyesterday if I should write to any one, or do anything for him. Hejust smiled and shook his head. He doesn't seem to be afraid ofanything--nor interested in anything. He--oh, his eyes are just likethe eyes of a dog that is hurt and wants so much to tell you something,and can't. I don't care what the newspapers say--and those men fromthe police station! I don't believe he is really bad. Now pleasedon't smile and tell me I'm silly."

  "I thought you just said he didn't have a friend in the world."

  "Oh, I don't count--that way." Then hurriedly: "I forgot--he did askme to write to some one--the first day--a Jim Ewell, in Arizona. Heasked me to say he had 'delivered the goods.' I don't know that Ishould have done it without reporting it, but--well, you said hecouldn't live--"

  "Some outlaw pal of his, probably," said Andover, frowning. "But thathas nothing to do with his--er--condition right now."

  "And sometimes he talks when he is half-conscious, and he often speaksto some one he calls 'The Spider,'" asserted Doris.

  "Queer affair. Well, I'll think about it. If we do operate, I'll wantyou--"

  The surgeon was interrupted by a nurse who told him there was a man whowanted to see Peter Annersley: that the man was insistent. Thehead-nurse was having supper, and should the caller be allowed in aftervisiting hours?

  "Send him in," said the surgeon, and he stepped into thesuperintendent's office. Almost immediately The Spider sidled acrossthe hallway and entered the room. The surgeon saw a short, shriveled,bow-legged man, inconspicuously dressed save for his black Stetson andthe riding-boots which showed below the bottom of his trousers. TheSpider's black beady eyes burned in his weather-beaten and scarredface--"the eyes of a hunted man"--thought the surgeon. In a peculiar,high-pitched voice, he asked Andover if he were the doctor in charge.

  "I'm Andover, head-surgeon," said the other. "Won't you sit down?"

  The other glanced round. Andover got up and closed the door. "Youwish to see young Annersley, I understand."

  "You looking after him?"

  Andover nodded.

  "Is he hurt pretty bad?"

  "Yes. I doubt if he will recover."

  "Can I see him?"

  "Well,"--and the surgeon hesitated,--"it's after hours. But I don'tsuppose it will do any harm. You are a friend of his?"

  "About the only one, I reckon."

  "Well--I'll step in with you. He may be asleep. If he is--"

  "I won't bother him."

  The nurse met them, and put her finger to her lips. Andover nodded andstepped aside as The Spider hobbled to the cot and gazed silently atPete's white face. Then The Spider turned abruptly and hobbled downthe aisle, followed by Andover. "Come in here," said the surgeon asThe Spider hesitated.

  Andover told him briefly that there was one chance in a thousand ofPete's recovery; that the shock had been terrific, describing justwhere the bullet was lodged and its effect upon the sensory nerves.Andover was somewhat surprised to find that this queer person knewconsiderable about gun-shot wounds and was even more surprised when TheSpider drew a flat sheaf of bills from his pocket and asked what anoperation would cost. Andover told him.

  The Spider immediately counted out the money and handed it to Andover."And get him in a room where he can be by himself. I'll pay for it."

  "That's all right, but if he should not recover from the operation--"

  "I'm gambling that he'll pull through," said The Spider. "And there'smy ante. It's up to you."

  "I'll have a receipt made out--"

  The Spider shook his bead. "His life'll be my receipt. And you'rewriting it--don't make no mistake."

  Andover's pale face flushed. "I'm not accustomed to having myreputation as a surgeon questioned."

  "See here," said The Spider, laying another packet of bills on thesurgeon's desk. "Where I come from money talks. And I reckon it ain'tgot tongue-tied since I was in El Paso last. Here's a thousand. Pullthat boy through and forget where you got the money."

  "I couldn't do more if you said ten thousand," asserted Andover.

  "Gambling is my business," said The Spider. "I raise the ante. Do youcome in?"

  "This is not a sporting proposition,"--Andover hesitated,--"but I'llcome in," he added slowly.

  "You're wrong," said The Spider; "everything is a sporting propositionfrom the day a man is born till he cashes in, and mebby after. I don'tknow about that, and I didn't come here to talk. My money 'll talk forme."

  Andover, quite humanly, was thinking that a thousand dollars would helpconsiderably toward paying for the new car that he had had in mind forsome time. He used a car in his work and he worked for the GeneralHospital. His desire to possess a new car was not altogetherprofessional, and he knew it. But he also knew that he was overworkedand underpaid.

  "Who shall I say called?" asked Andover, picking up the packet of bills.

  "Just tell him it was a friend."

  Andover was quite as shrewd in his way as was this strange visitor, whoevidently did not wish to be known. "This entire matter is ratherirregular," he said,--"and the--er--bonus--is necessarily aconfidential matter!"

  "Which suits me,"--and The Spider blinked queerly.

  Dr. Andover stepped to the main doorway. As he bade The Spidergood-night, he told him to call up on the telephone about ten-thirtythe next morning, or to call personally if he preferred.

  The Spider hesitated directly beneath the arc-light at the entrance."If I don't call up or show up--you needn't say anything about thisdeal to him--but you can tell him he's got a friend on the job."

  The doctor nodded and walked briskly back to the superintendent'soffice, where he waited until the secretary appeared, when he turnedover the money that had been paid to him for the operation and aprivate room, which The Spider had engaged for two weeks. He told thesecretary to make out a receipt in Peter Annersley's name. "A friendis handling this for him," he explained.

  Then he sent for the head-nurse. "I would like to have Miss Gray andMiss Barlow help me," he told her, in speaking of the proposedoperation.

  "Miss Gray is on duty to-night," said the head-nurse.

  "Then if you will arrange to have her get a rest, please. And--oh,yes, we'll probably need the oxygen. And you might tell Dr. Gleasonthat this is a special case and I'd like to have him administer theanaesthetic."

  Andover strode briskly to the surgical ward and stopped at Pete'scouch. As he stooped and listened to Pete's breathing, the packet ofcrisp bills slipped from his inside pocket, and dropped to the floor.

  He was in the lobby, on his way to his car, when Doris came runni
ngafter him. "Dr. Andover," she called. "I think you droppedthis,"--and she gave him the packet of bills.

  "Mighty careless of me," he said, feeling in his inside pocket."Handkerchief--slipped them in on top of it. Thank you."

  Doris gazed at him curiously. His eyes wavered. "We're going to doour best to pull him through," he said with forced sprightliness.

  Doris smiled and nodded. But her expression changed as she againentered the long, dim aisle between the double row of cots. Only thatevening, just before she had talked with Andover about Pete, she hadheard the surgeon tell the house-physician jokingly that all that stoodbetween him and absolute destitution was a very thin and exceedinglypopular check-book--and Andover had written his personal check for tendollars which he had cashed at the office. Doris wondered who thestrange man was that had come in with Andover, an hour ago, and how Dr.Andover had so suddenly become possessed of a thousand dollars.