Tex’s fall through space had not been unpleasant. At times he had heard
voices, but was unable exactly to locate them. Now he seemed to have
come out of the darkness. He remembered the wreck. It was like a dream.
Some one bent over him, and he heard a voice say--
“Yes, I think he is awake, doctor.”
“Doctor, eh?” thought Tex disinterestedly.
Some one else leaned over him, jiggling the cot slightly. He tried to
speak, but his jaw seemed set. He could only see out of one eye, too.
The other was bandaged.
“Feeling better?” asked a masculine voice.
Tex tried to turn his head, which felt queer. He could move his feet and
one hand. His nose hurt and his mouth was as dry as ashes.
“That bandage is rather tight,” observed a feminine voice.
“It must be tight,” laughed the man. “He hasn’t talked for a week; so a
few days more won’t bother him. Hasn’t any fever now.”
Tex managed to turn his head enough to catch a one-eyed view of the
room. There was a gray-haired man, with a short beard and kindly blue
eyes, standing beside a white-clad woman. They were both looking at
the sheet of paper which the man was holding.
He lifted his eyes and looked at Tex.
“Well, he’s able to twist around for a look,” he laughed as he came in
closer.
Tex looked the man over with his one eye. There was an odor of ether
about the place, and Tex knew that he was in a hospital. The doctor
was looking down at him, smiling in a friendly manner, and Tex tried
to smile in return, but the bandage prevented.
“You won’t be able to do much talking for a few days,” said the
doctor. “But you will be as good as new. Perhaps you will be better
than new--who knows?”
He turned to the nurse, gave her some instructions and went out of the
room. Tex wanted to ask her some questions; wanted to find out where he
was and how badly he had been hurt; but his jaw was in a vise.
He remembered it all now, and he wondered how close the law was on
his trail. Possibly, he thought, they might know where he was at this
moment. He found that he was pretty well bandaged all over, but there
was little pain. His face felt stiff and hard, but he attributed it
to the bandages.
Finally the nurse came over and sat down beside him. She was serious of
face, as she said to him--
“No doubt you are wondering all about it.”
Tex blinked his one eye encouragingly.
“You remember the wreck?”
Tex moved his head a trifle and winked at her. She laughed softly.
“One doesn’t need more than one eye to talk,” she said, “but it makes a
one-sided conversation. You have been here over a week.”
Tex blinked several times violently, and decided that he must have been
pretty badly hurt.
“It was a bad wreck,” continued the nurse. “There were many killed.
They thought you were dead. Your clothes were torn from your body,
along with a lot of flesh and skin. It was a close call, I will assure
you. But Doctor Ames is a wonder. He was here a few minutes ago, and
is very much interested in your case. No one was able to identify you,
and your clothes were in such a bad shape that even the maker’s name
had disappeared.
“But the doctor says that the bandages can be removed in a few days, and
you will be able to communicate with your friends. Won’t that be fine? I
can well imagine that they have given you up for lost.”
Tex blinked several times. He wanted to know more. It was a relief to
him to know that no one had identified him.
“Why we even had a dentist here to assist in the work,” she smiled. “You
were quite a problem.”
“My gosh!” thought Tex. “I must ’a’ got my teeth knocked out, too.”
“Now,” she said, “I think that is enough information for today. Just be
patient and everything will be fine.”
Tex winked thankfully and went back to sleep. At least he was safe for
a while, because even McHague could not identify him inside that mass
of wrappings which made him look like an Egyptian mummy. And it would
give him a sanctuary while the interest in his escape dwindled.
The next few days were months to Tex Rowland. The doctor came in twice
a day to look him over, and the nurse took keen delight in joking Tex
about his one expressive eye.
Then came the day when the doctor told him that the bandages were coming
off. Several other doctors came in to see the results of Doctor Ames’s
handiwork, and assisted him in the unwrapping. It was a tedious job, and
Tex was hardly aware that the bandages were off.
His face felt stiff and unnatural, but he was able to use his arms and
legs. They were stiff and sore, but gave good promise of becoming useful
again with a little exercise. The doctor’s expressions of satisfaction
reassured Tex somewhat, but it was not until the nurse brought him a
hand-mirror that he knew what had happened.
He looked closely at himself, squinted quizzically at the doctors and
back at himself. Then looked at the back of the mirror; like a monkey
which does not understand its own reflection.
“Well?” said Doctor Ames. “What is the verdict?”
Tex gazed into the mirror, flexing the muscles of his stiff-feeling
face. Then he looked slowly up at the doctor and said, speaking with
great difficulty--
“My ----, where did I get that face?”
Doctor Ames patted him on the shoulder.
“My boy, it was the best I could do. It would have been impossible to
tell just what you did look like before you broke up half the mountain
side with your face. Still, I do not think it is such a bad face.”
Tex squinted at himself again. It was not a face he had ever seen; it
was a total stranger who looked him square in the eyes from the little
mirror. In the place of that crooked, ill-shapen nose, was one of
classic design. There was no evil expression about the eyes now, with
their well-arched brows. The upper-lip was straight and his front teeth
were very pearly and not at all prominent.
There was a considerable growth of beard, in spots, and the scars of
the patchwork were plainly evident; but it was not the face of Tex
Rowland. He laid the mirror down on the covers and his new face broke
into a painful grin.
“I hope you will be able to identify yourself,” said the doctor.
Tex grinned and shook his head.
“Tha’s all right, doc,” he said slowly. “I reckon yuh done the best
yuh could. Yuh must ’a’ just about made it all over, but I dunno how
yuh pulled off the job.”
Doctor Ames smiled. He was professionally happy over it, and received
the congratulations of the other doctors, who were sincere in saying
that it was even greater than they expected. One of them slapped Doctor
Ames on the back and said jokingly:
“Ames, it is just too good. You have made him a handsome man; but there
is little character.”
“That will come,” assured Ames. “In a little while he will get back the
lines. Perhaps I did try for an ideal face.”
Tex only laughed and looked into the mirror.
“Have you a photo of yourself?” asked the nurse.
Tex shook his head, although he felt sure that his picture had been
broadcast after his escape. The nurse stepped to the door and held a
low-toned conversation with some one for several moments before
coming back and speaking aside to Doctor Ames. The other doctors were
closely examining Tex’s face, when Doctor Ames’ voice broke into the
conversation, speaking to Tex--
“Do you feel well enough to talk to a man, who has been waiting
anxiously to have a few words with you?”
Tex’s heart sank. Was it an officer, he wondered. A dozen wild guesses
shot through his mind as the well-dressed man came up to the bed and
looked down at him. But the man was not wearing a badge of authority,
and there was a smile on his lips.
“I am from the railroad company,” he explained briskly, as he took some
legal-looking papers from his pocket. “Claim department, you know. The
company is straightening out the claims as fast as possible. I have been
here several times, but have been unable to see you.”
Tex squinted thoughtfully. It puzzled him. Doctor Ames moved in closer
and looked at the papers, which the agent was arranging.
“No,” he said smiling broadly, “I am not encroaching upon your rights,
Mr. Agent; but I have an interest in this patient, and I do not want him
to get the worst of this deal.”
“I understand.” The agent nodded quickly. “Contrary to general belief,
the company is not trying to dodge their responsibilities. We stand
ready and willing to pay any reasonable claim. I have been empowered to
close this claim for five thousand dollars. It is quite a sum of money,
but we realize that this man has suffered greatly, possibly in more ways
than one. Is that a fair price?”
Doctor Ames looked at Tex for an answer; but Tex was too stunned to
answer. It was hard to realize that the railroad company was trying
to pay him five thousand dollars for injuries received in the wreck.
They did not know that he was stealing a ride.
“What do you think?” asked Doctor Ames.
Tex opened his mouth several times, but seemed unable to speak. The
agent had unfolded the paper and was handing a fountain-pen to Tex.
Between his finger and thumb he held a nice, pink check for five
thousand dollars.
Tex shook his head and looked at Doctor Ames.
“I don’t want the money,” he said softly. “I want you folks to figure
out yore bill for what you’ve done for me, and ask him to pay yuh. That
might be real square. I’ll sign my name, but I don’t want any money.”
“My goodness!” exclaimed one of the doctors. “Ames, you have rebuilt the
face of a millionaire.”
“Do you realize what you are doing?” asked the nurse. “This man wants to
pay you five thousand dollars.”
“Yeah, and I don’t want it,” smiled Tex. “You have ’em fix it up, so
you and the doctor gets paid for yore work, and I’ll sign the li’l old
name.”
The agent turned to Doctor Ames, a grin on his lips.
“What about it, doctor?” he asked. “I can change this to fit an
emergency. This man seems sincere; but in all my experience I have never
before met a man who would not accept a five-thousand-dollar check. I am
willing to fix it up in any way you wish.”
He and the doctor walked over by the door, conversing in low tones,
while the agent altered the document with his pen. In a few moments
they came back and one of the doctors held a book under the document,
while Tex Rowland laboriously scratched on the dotted line--
_William H. Smith._
Doctor Ames squinted at the signature as he handed it back to the agent.
“William H. Smith, millionaire,” he said, laughing. “Not exactly an
uncommon name. Bill Smith, philanthropist. Is the initial ‘H’ for
Henry?”
“No,” said Tex slowly. “My middle name is Horse-shoes.”
“What a queer name,” said the nurse. “You ought to be lucky.”
“Mebbe yuh don’t think I am,” grinned Tex, as he sank back on his pillow
and looked up at the white ceiling. He had a new face and a new name.
Tex Rowland had died in the wreck.