THE OPERATION
Part of the strain that had held all of them under its spell seemed to
be wearing off. They were breathing more easily now.
True, the most critical part of what had been undertaken was still
before them--the operation. Performed, as it must be, under the most
unfavorable circumstances, from a surgical standpoint, there was every
chance against Professor Snodgrass, and very few in his favor.
“But we’re this far on the return trip,” said Bob, with a sigh of
relief, as they chugged forward in the motor boat. “And that’s a whole
lot.”
“Indeed it is,” agreed Miss Payson with a smile. And Bob’s remark
seemed to sum up the whole situation. They were well on the way of the
return trip.
That, in itself, was a satisfaction, for there was so much that might
have happened--in fact, so much that still might happen. But, on the
whole, travel by the river seemed more certain than by road. Though the
breaking down of the motor on the initial trip did not seem to argue
much in that line.
But the night was over. They had the whole day before them, and, with
good luck, they would reach the camp in the woods at night.
“Will you operate as soon as you arrive?” asked Miss Payson of Dr.
Wright.
“It all depends--on the patient. I fear I shall have to. It has gone
rather too long already, since the accident. There is only a slight
chance--but, such as it is, we must take it.”
He had spoken in a low tone, though not so low but that Jerry heard
him. And the tall lad felt a sense of foreboding; but not so much on
his own account. It was solely because he loved the professor, and
wanted to see him spared for many years to come. For now Jerry was
thoroughly convinced that there had been some trickery, and that the
little scientist had not played them false.
The motor was running true and “like a sewing machine,” as Bob
expressed it. He and Jerry took turns at the wheel, in looking after
the machinery, and filling the oil cups. Dr. Wright sat in the cabin,
with his sister and Miss Payson, talking in low tones about the coming
operation, and making what plans they could in advance.
On and on they raced--a race against the clock, to save a life. Would
they be in time?
There was nothing they could do--that Bob or Jerry could do--to
increase the speed.
It was not like being in the auto. No advantage could be taken of the
better parts of the road to make haste. All that could be done was to
keep the machinery going, see that it was oiled, and steer a straight
course. The extra five gallons of gasoline which they had not needed
for the auto, were put aboard the _Scud_.
They had their dinner on the boat, and Bob was in his element as cook.
The ladies praised his culinary skill, and that was enough to make Bob
happy.
They passed from the river to the lake, and speeded on. Keen-eyed
Jerry, at the wheel, noted point after point, land-mark after
land-mark, as they passed them.
Bob and Jerry were standing on the raised after-deck, near the wheel,
talking, when Miss Payson, who, with the doctor and his sister, was in
the cabin, came to the door, and asked:
“Is there anything wrong, boys? There is some water on the floor in
here. Perhaps something has spilled.”
“Water?” cried Bob.
Jerry handed his chum the wheel, and went into the cabin. He saw a
little pool of water oozing up from the cracks in the cabin floor.
“That’s what’s been holding us back!” he exclaimed. “I wondered what
made her so heavy.”
“What is it?” asked the doctor.
“A small leak,” Jerry replied. “Probably the same seams that opened
before are widening now. We’ve been running pretty fast, and the
vibration of the motor has probably shaken out some of the caulking.”
“Is there--is there any danger?” asked Miss Wright.
“Not at all,” Jerry assured her, though he was not quite as sure as his
voice indicated. “I’ll start the pump.”
This soon brought the water down to a level below the boards of the
cabin floor, and for some time no more came in. But the leak must have
grown, for, in spite of what the pump took out, the floor was soon
covered.
“We’ll have to bail,” said Jerry, grimly. “But it won’t be more than
three hours before we’re at the end of the lake.”
They had indeed made good time, better even than on the down trip, with
the broken spring. The motor had worked to perfection--too well, in
fact, for its vibrations had opened the seams.
“Bail!” cried Miss Payson.
“Yes, we’ll have to dip out the water as fast as it comes in,” said
Jerry. “The pump hasn’t capacity enough.”
The progress of the boat was slower now, and it was not until complete
darkness had fallen that they reached the improvised dock, whence the
trail led up to the cabin where the wounded professor lay.
And the last mile was hardest of all, for the boat was so water-logged
that even the powerful motor sent her along only at the pace of a scow.
“Well, she can’t sink, at any rate!” exclaimed Jerry, as he fairly
grounded her in shallow water at the dock.
They made their way up the trail, carrying with them all that was
necessary for the operation. But were they in time to perform it?
“Who’s there?” called the voice of Ned from the cabin.
“We’re back, old man,” answered Jerry.
“Oh!” and there was unmistakable relief in Ned’s voice.
“How’s the professor?” asked Jerry.
“Just about the same.”
“Then there’s a chance,” murmured Dr. Wright. “Now to get busy!”
Ned and Andy were quickly told of the race to save a life--the race
the final spurt of which was now to be made. The boys who had been at
the cabin reported that nothing of moment had transpired since Bob and
Jerry departed.
Preparations for the operation were on apace. I will not weary you
with them, for such matters are never very pleasant. Instruments were
boiled, to kill all germs. Bandages were laid in readiness. The nurses
donned their uniforms, and the cabin was put in the best condition
possible.
“You may come in and see him,” said Dr. Wright to Jerry and his chums,
about nine o’clock that night. “We are about to start. He is conscious,
and wants to see you.”
“Will it be all right?” asked Jerry.
“Oh, yes. He is more nearly rational than at any time since you brought
him here.”
So they went in. The hapless professor was swathed in a sheet on the
table. He looked very pale and thin in the light of candles and lamps,
but his eyes now had the look of consciousness.
“Jerry--Jerry,” he whispered in a faint voice. “I--I can’t say much--I
don’t know all that happened--those scoundrels sent me up here to get
me out of the way--I know now. But I have evidence against them. When I
recover--tell it all. That land is yours. I will give evidence----”
“That will do now,” said Dr. Wright gently, and he motioned for the
boys to go.
The sickly smell of ether filled the night air about the cabin. The
door was closed, as the boys went down the trail. They did not want to
stay too near, and there was nothing they could do. The operation had
begun.