A SLENDER CHANCE
Slim Tyler whirled about, curious to know what had so stirred his
good friend.
Carl Stummel's glasses were pushed far up on his forehead. His hair
stood up in bushy wisps about his head as though he had grasped it in
some extremity of tragic emotion. His eyes were wild and he was
panting heavily.
The German was not alone. By the hand he led a man whose girth was
as generous as his own. There, however, the resemblance ended. The
stranger had a scholarly, sensitive face with near-sighted eyes that
peered uncertainly from steel-rimmed spectacles. He appeared not to
see Slim until he was almost upon him.
"Dis iss Shlim Tyler," panted Carl to his companion. "Dere is
nuddings he candt do alretty. He vill your leetle poy save. Shlim,
dis iss Henry Traut."
The newcomer peered up at the tall young aviator. He clutched at
Slim's sleeves.
"Ach, yes, I have heard of you," he said. "Can you once save my
little boy, I will be your friend for life."
Slim was touched by the pleading in the father's eyes.
"I'll be glad to do anything I can," he said earnestly. "Where is
your boy and what's wrong with him?"
Carl broke in to explain.
"Der leetle poy in an accident it iss dot he vos been alretty. He
lif in Ernestville, fifty miles from here it iss. He must an
oberation haf kevick. He--he----"
Carl was getting so excited that his friend took up the tale.
"My wife has phoned me," he said in husky accents, "that the doctor
there says we must get Dr. Aaron Wills, the specialist who lives
here, to perform the operation. I understand he is a wonderful
surgeon. But he must come at once. Else my baby will die--my little
boy, he is only six years old----"
His voice broke and he wrung his hands distractedly.
"Eef you der doctor could get und fly mit him to Ernestville, Shlim,"
Carl said pleadingly.
"I'll do it," promised Slim.
He made his way through the press of people toward the row of cars
parked about the field.
He knew the famous specialist by sight, and remembered having seen
him on the field only a few minutes before.
"It would be too good luck to find him there still," Slim thought to
himself. "Just the same, it's possible."
When he reached the farther side of the field he caught a glimpse of
the surgeon's car about to pull away to the road.
Slim began to run, his long legs covering the ground swiftly.
"Doctor Wills!" he called. "Doctor Wills! Wait a minute!"
The car was already rolling smoothly along the road and Slim's call
was unheard.
Slim set his teeth and sprinted. His legs moved like pistons.
The heavy traffic of vehicles along the road decided the race in
Slim's favor. He came up with the doctor's car and flung himself
upon the running board.
Doctor Wills looked surprised. Perhaps he thought for a fleeting
second that he was the victim of a hold-up.
He recognized the young aviator almost instantly, however, and drew
up at the side of the road.
"What can I do for you, my boy?" he asked, a smile transforming
features that in repose were serious, almost stern. "You scarcely
look as though you needed the services of a doctor."
"Not yet, doctor," replied Slim. "Although it's a lucky fellow in my
line of work who doesn't need the services of a surgeon to patch him
up now and then."
He explained hurriedly the plight of Henry Traut and the six-year-old
child, whose life the skill of Dr. Aaron Wills was depended on to
save.
Doctor Wills listened intently, his face growing increasingly serious.
"Ernestville is more than fifty miles away," he observed. "If the
child is as badly hurt as you say, we probably couldn't get there in
time."
Slim smiled confidently.
"We could make it by plane," he declared.
"Ah!" the stern face relaxed again. Slim's youth and enthusiasm
possessed a strong appeal for this man of many cares and ceaseless
responsibilities. "I see."
He turned his car in the direction of the flying field.
"Get your plane ready," he said. "While you're doing it, I'll call
up my office, tell them where I'm going, and leave directions
concerning a few matters with my assistant."
They found Henry Traut where Slim had left him. Carl had been forced
to go back to his hot dog stand, for on a day like this business was
brisk.
Slim introduced the doctor, and the German grasped his hand
convulsively.
"It is so good of you, doctor," he said tremulously. "Our little
boy, he is all we have. If he should leave us, I too should die."
"I'll do my best," said the doctor, as he and Traut hastily got into
the flying togs that Slim handed them.
A hasty word to Jerry from Slim had apprised him of the state of
affairs and he had hauled out a speedy plane from the hangar so that
in an incredibly short time everything was ready for the flight.
Carl Stummel rushed over again for a parting word with his friend.
There were tears in the eyes of the good old fellow as he wrung
Traut's hand.
"It vill be alles recht," Carl assured him. "You shoost leave it mit
dot Shlim Tyler. He iss vun great poy. He vill get you dere in der
jig dime yet."
Slim met the quizzical glance of the famous surgeon and grinned
sheepishly.
"Mr. Stummel is an old friend of mine, Doctor," he said. "I'm afraid
he has too much confidence in me."
"Any man may count himself fortunate to possess one friend with
implicit confidence in his ability," said Dr. Wills gravely.
"Besides, I think we're all inclined to share his confidence. Let's
see now how quickly you can take us to Ernestville."
"Watch our smoke," said Slim, as he motioned to one of the mechanics
to turn the propeller.
The engines sang their song of speed as the plane rushed down the
runway and darted upward into the air.
Higher and higher it rose until it was at an elevation of about a
thousand feet. Then Slim brought it to an even keel and set its nose
in the direction of Ernestville, fifty miles away.
Before Slim's mind rose the vision of a six-year-old child, inert,
helpless, dependent for life itself on the speed of the plane and the
skill of the surgeon.
"A race with death perhaps," Slim muttered to himself. "But I have a
feeling that we'll win."
He gave the plane full throttle and clove the air like a comet. He
was racing not for a money prize, not for glory or reputation, but
for a life.
He covered the fifty miles in something less than twenty minutes, and
came down on a small flying field in the outskirts of Ernestville.
There, through a previous arrangement made over the telephone by
Jerry Marbury before the take-off, a car was waiting.
Into this hurried Dr. Wills, followed by Henry Traut and by Slim
himself, who had lingered behind just for a moment to give a few
directions regarding the plane.
"To my house, quick!" urged Traut.
"No, to the hospital," directed the doctor. "I talked to your doctor
before we left North Elmwood and he arranged for the transfer. With
the facilities there, a successful outcome to the operation is far
more probable than if it were performed at your home. Set your mind
at rest. Everything will be done for your child that it is possible
to do."
"Ach, Gott!" murmured the stricken father. "I pray that it will be
enough."
The car stopped at the hospital, and the doctor hurried up the steps.
Henry Traut kept beside him, his fingers twining and intertwining in
agonized helplessness.
Slim Tyler brought up the rear, increasingly conscious of being an
outsider, yet unwilling to desert the party until he had learned more
concerning the fate of the little lad.
Inside the hospital they were greeted by the clean antiseptic odor
common to all such institutions.
The great surgeon was met by the nurse in charge, who summoned the
head of the hospital, who in turn offered all the facilities of his
domain to his distinguished colleague.
Doctor Wills gave a crisp direction and turned toward the stairs. It
was evident that he had completely forgotten both the father of his
"case" and Slim Tyler, who had been chiefly responsible for bringing
him there.
Henry Traut, however, was not willing to be ignored. He followed the
surgeon and plucked nervously at his sleeve.
"My boy, I can see him, yes?"
Without pausing in his swift stride, Doctor Wills said over his
shoulder:
"Better wait in the reception room with young Tyler. I'll have word
sent to you as soon as you can see the boy."
With this small comfort the distracted father was forced to content
himself. He walked irresolutely into the waiting room and paced up
and down, up and down, his hands behind his back, his glazed stare
fixed, his mouth set in a line of pain.
Slim watched him uncomfortably for a few minutes, wondering if he
should try to say something comforting, but finally deciding against
it.
"How can I say anything consoling when his poor little kid may be
dying this minute for all I know? I doubt if he'd even hear me. He
has his ears strained for some sound from upstairs."
He turned restlessly to the window and tried to interest his thoughts
by the sights of the street.
"The worst fix I ever was in," he muttered to himself. "Who'd think
I'd get so cut up about some one else's kid? Wonder what they're
doing to the poor little beggar, anyhow."
As though in answer to his question, a soft-footed nurse entered.
"Mr. Traut," she said, "I have come from Doctor Wills. He says that
you can see your little boy."
Henry Traut paused in his restless pacing. He regarded the nurse,
his face working. He peered at her and gripped her arm with
imploring fingers.
"My little boy--my little son," he whispered. "Tell me--will he
live?"
The nurse nodded, a smile on her face.
"Doctor Wills says that he is out of danger."
Henry Traut sat down with great suddenness. Slim had the impression
that his legs had given out under him. Traut felt in his pocket and
drew out a handkerchief, which he applied to his eyes.
"Lieber Gott!" he murmured, "I give thanks."
Slim felt an unaccustomed emotion swelling up in him and turned
sharply to the window. He remained there until he was conscious of a
presence near him and turned to find the white-garbed nurse beside
him.
"Are you Mr. Tyler?" she asked.
Slim admitted his identity.
"I brought Doctor Wills and Mr. Traut here in a plane," he added
awkwardly. "I haven't really any business here, but I thought I'd
sort of like to hang around until I found out how the little codger
was getting along. I--I guess I'll be going now."
"I guess you'll do nothing of the kind," said the nurse smilingly.
"Not if I have anything to say about it--or Doctor Wills. You see
the little Traut boy has been asking for you--seems he's seen your
picture in the papers and heard a lot about your flying--and he won't
take no for an answer."
"How does he know I'm here?" asked Slim.
"He heard Doctor Wills speak of you to Doctor Morton the anæsthetist.
He must have understood then that you were still downstairs, for you
were the first one he asked for when he came out of the ether.
You're quite a hero to the little boy, Mr. Tyler."
Slim fidgeted uncomfortably, wondering whether the nurse was laughing
at him.
He was ashamed of the suspicion a moment later when very seriously
and gently she placed her hand upon his arm.
"You undoubtedly saved the little fellow's life, Mr. Tyler. I heard
Doctor Wills say that if he had been half an hour later, he could
have done nothing. If you can carry your kindness a little further
and come up to see the boy just for a moment. It will keep him from
fretting and----"
"I'll be glad to," said Slim promptly. "I'm glad to do anything I
can."
The nurse said nothing further, but led the way from the room.
Mr. Traut had already been taken to the room in which his boy lay.
Slim had never been in a hospital before, except on the one occasion
when he had visited High Hat Frank. The smell of antiseptics and the
rows of narrow beds all had a depressing effect upon him.
"Might as well get used to it, though," he thought. "Here's where
I'll come--or to a place like this--after my first crack-up. All the
fellows do, sooner or later."
The nurse led him to a room at the far end of the corridor. On the
bed lay a little lad, a lad so white and thin that the dark eyes
gazing up at Slim seemed enormous in the small face.
Henry Traut had been sitting beside the bed, the child's small hand
in his.
Now, at a sign from the nurse, he rose as though to quit the room.
He bent over the small figure and the child reached up and patted his
face.
As the father retired reluctantly, Slim took his place beside the bed.
"Only a word or two," the nurse whispered. "Then you must go."
The child reached out a brown little hand, and Slim took it with a
strange sensation of tenderness. He felt as he had in the waiting
room below, a bit choky in the throat.
"You're big flying man," murmured the child. "I saw your picture.
You go up in the sky. I like you."
"That's good," said Slim clearing his throat. "I like you, too. And
now you're going to hurry up and get well and pretty soon you'll be
playing around again."
The little face flushed and the lips moved. Slim bent closer to
catch the whisper.
"Will you come again?"
"Sure thing," promised Slim. "When I come again I'll bring you a toy
airplane and show you how to fly it."
Slim felt a touch on his arm. It was the nurse.
"Time's up," she whispered.
With difficulty Slim released his hand from the little fellow's
grasp. Tears started to the child's eyes, but the nurse soothed him.
Outside in the corridor, it seemed to Slim that he could still feel
the pressure of the small fingers. He wanted to go back and reassure
him, tell him there was nothing to be frightened about. Gee, it was
tough to be flat on your back with all sorts of pains and aches
inside of you when you were only six years old!
Doctor Wills emerged from a room where he had been washing after the
operation.
"I hear it's all right, Doctor," said Slim.
"Yes," replied the great surgeon. "But it wouldn't have been if you
hadn't whisked me here as swiftly as you did. A little while longer
and the child would have been beyond help. You've done a good day's
work, my boy."
"I'm glad," said Slim simply. "I'll take you back when you're ready,
Doctor."
"Thanks," said the doctor. "But I'm going to stay here a few hours
to watch developments. I'll have my man bring the car over."
"You surely are not going home to-night, Mr. Tyler," put in Henry
Traut. "You must be my guest. My wife would never forgive me if I
did not bring you to her so that she can thank you. You must come."
There was really no reason for refusing, and Slim Tyler accompanied
his host to the Traut home, where Mrs. Traut, who had been in a state
of nervous collapse and was under the care of a trained nurse,
received him with joy and gratitude that were beyond all words. They
were so insistent on his staying that nearly a week elapsed before
they would let him go. Slim yielded the more readily because of his
growing attachment to the little fellow, whom he visited daily and
who in turn fairly worshipped his deliverer.
The child grew stronger rapidly, and the nurse declared that Slim's
visits helped the little lad more than all the medicines.
At last Slim Tyler had to tear himself away. To him who had had so
little of home life it was a wrench to go from these kindly people.
Yet it was with a thrill of elation that he mounted into the cockpit
and felt once more the stick in his hand.
When, after his return flight, he came down on the North Elmwood
flying field, Jerry Marbury detached himself from a group and hurried
over to him.
"You old stick-in-the-mud!" he called, "where have you been all this
time?"
"Didn't Dave Boyd tell you?" asked Slim, in some surprise. "I phoned
to him and asked him to pass the word along."
"Dave has been so busy that he's hardly had time to breathe," replied
Jerry, "and thereby hangs a tale. Slim, old scout, you and I are out
of luck."