THE FIELD HOSPITAL.
When the padrone came hurrying back with the six boys, they were
immediately surrounded by an excited mass of jabbering foreigners. Many
dark faces glowered at Hugh and his chums. It was as though all the fury
in these excitable natures had been aroused when the indiscreet guards,
back of the stockade surrounding the cement works, had fired those cruel
volleys at the men and women who were pressing forward, not to try and
destroy property but to expostulate with the manager because he would
not give them work when their children were near the point of
starvation.
The padrone immediately told some of those near by what the boys had
come to do for them. Somehow it seemed to soothe the angry feelings of
the most violent, to some extent at least. There was no longer a hostile
demonstration on the part of the crowd. Some looked at the boys
apathetically, as though they could not quite understand what it all
meant; others showed a little interest, while one man plucked Hugh by
the sleeve, and attempted to lead him away.
“You, doctor, come, my woman she seek, she be bad hurt!” this fellow was
saying, piteously.
Hugh, knowing that a start must be made somewhere, allowed himself to be
led off.
“Keep along with me, boys,” he said to the others; “I may need your
help.”
He knew that Arthur Cameron was likely to prove his mainstay in catering
to the needs of these poor people who were in such distress. At the same
time all of the other scouts were capable of doing more or less along
the line of stopping a wound from bleeding, and binding it up after the
recognized principles of field surgery—something to tide over an
emergency until a better examination could be attempted by a regular
surgeon.
A minute later and they reached a spot where a heavy-set old woman lay
upon a dirty blanket. Several other women were gathered around. They had
a tin basin with water in it, and seemed to be trying in their clumsy
fashion to attend to the gunshot wound the woman had received.
Hugh took hold of the case immediately. When the eagerly watching
padrone saw the business-like way of the boy as he started to wash the
jagged cut in the upper arm, after which he proceeded, with Arthur’s
assistance, to lessen the bleeding as he had been taught to do, a
pleased look crept over that grim dark face.
“See how his earrings dance when he nods his head that way,” whispered
Alec Sands to Billy. “He knows we can deliver the goods now. He approves
of scouts as field surgeons. And say, let me tell you, the boys are
making a bully job of that woman’s arm. It’s a nasty cut, all right, and
I’d hate to tackle it alone, though I reckon I’d try to do my level
best.”
When Hugh found that a point had been reached where he could safely
leave the rest of the binding up to some of the others, he called upon
Billy and Ralph to get busy.
“They say there is another man here who is badly hurt, and I’m afraid
several others may be still lying out there on the field. We’ll try to
rig up some kind of stretcher and get them here a little later. Alec,
suppose you and Bud see if you can find some stuff to make one out
of—poles, with bed ticking or burlap fastened across. It’ll be saving
time, you know.”
“Only too glad, Hugh,” replied Alec, cheerfully; for he disliked
inaction above all things, as many boys do. Give them something to do,
let them feel that they are of some importance in the working out of
plans, and they will show themselves eager to do their very best.
It was found that the man had been shot in the back. Hugh felt that he
was badly hurt, though with care he might pull through. The boy had
never attempted so serious a task as he now found on his hands, and he
was glad that Arthur was there to back him up.
First of all he asked the padrone to make the people stand back, for
they were crowding close in, all eyes filled with wonder at seeing mere
boys performing the grave duties of army surgeons.
Their wonder grew as they saw how Hugh and Arthur seemed to know just
what best to do, and how deftly their fingers worked. The dark frowns
began to disappear, and confidence replaced suspicion. It would no
longer be dangerous for any boy wearing that khaki uniform to move among
those strikers, after they had seen with their own eyes that the mission
bringing these boys to the camp had been one of peace and not of war.
Meanwhile Alec and Bud were doing their best to carry out the suggestion
made by the scout master, though they found it no easy job. By dint of
looking around they managed to pick up two stout poles that would answer
for the sides of the stretcher, but finding a suitable substitute for
the usual canvas upon which the wounded are laid, proved a still more
difficult task.
They were beginning to despair when, seeing the old padrone crossing in
front of them, Alec flew up and seized hold of him.
“We want something to make a stretcher out of; something strong like
bagging, or a mattress tick,” he told him, gesticulating at the same
time with both hands in order to emphasize his words. “You show us where
to find something; we carry the wounded men here from over there by the
works.”
The padrone looked puzzled at first; then as Bud quickly laid the two
poles on the ground and threw himself prostrate between them, while Alec
made out to take hold of the near ends, the other gave a cry as though
it had dawned on his mind.
He nodded his head and, darting into a shanty close by, came out bearing
a tough-looking mattress. Drawing out a knife, he sliced down one end,
and deliberately proceeded to empty the corn husks it had contained upon
the ground.
When the scouts found that the material though faded was still of
considerable value, so far as strength was concerned, they proceeded to
bind it to the poles. It required more or less ingenuity to accomplish
this, for the strain would be very great, once they started to carry a
man weighing at least a hundred and fifty pounds, but they had mastered
much more serious problems than this, and in the end managed to secure
the bed ticking to both poles in a secure though possibly clumsy
fashion.
Hardly had this been accomplished than they saw Hugh hurrying toward
them. He had left Arthur to finish the work of caring for the wounded
man, with Billy and Ralph to render any assistance required.
“I’m anxious to get over there where the fight came off,” Hugh told the
two, after he had taken a quick survey of their completed work, and
apparently given it his approval. “Nobody seems to know just how many
were shot down by that murderous fire of the guards. Some say five, and
others hold up both hands, as if there were at least twice that many.”
“Then you think some of the poor chaps may be lying there still, do
you?” asked Alec, with a vein of real pity in his voice; for the sight
of all that suffering had caused his heart to beat much more kindly for
these poor foreigners.
“I hope it’s a mistake,” replied Hugh, as they all hurried off. “In case
there are any who have been hurt too badly to get away, you can see how
they might continue to lie there until they bled to death. The guards
behind the stockade are afraid to show themselves after doing what they
did; and the strikers are just as much averse to going near the works,
with those men waiting to pour in another awful volley at sight of
them.”
“Whew! I hope they won’t try that game on us,” said Bud Morgan, though
for all that he did not lessen his pace a particle, because Bud did not
know what fear was, to tell the truth.
“Oh, there’s little danger of their being so badly rattled as that,”
said Hugh. “I mean to call out and tell the one in command just how we
happened to be near by, and felt it to be our duty to do all we could
for the strikers who were hurt. It may, in the end, save some of those
reckless guards from being tried for murder.”
“Just what it might,” said Alec. “That man was shot in the back, which
shows he was running away. Only a coward would fire on retreating men
who were unarmed.”
“Hold on, don’t say too much just now,” cautioned Hugh. “We’re getting
near the stockade, you notice. And here’s a poor fellow trying to limp
along, though he’s badly hurt in the leg.”
The man saw them and looked worried as he clung to a tree waiting for
them to reach him. Perhaps the white flag which Hugh again carried eased
his mind somewhat, and when the boy spoke to him the tone of his voice
was certainly reassuring.
“You are hurt, I see,” said Hugh, pointing to the other’s left leg,
which showed all the terrible signs of a serious wound; the poor fellow
had managed to tie his red bandana handkerchief around the limb, and
above the bullet wound, as though he may have served in the army at one
time, and knew something about the use of a tourniquet to stop the
bleeding.
He must have understood what Hugh said, for he nodded his head. Then the
scout waved him on, and pointed to the camp.
“Go to camp and doctor look after you—understand, with medicine like
this,” and he even opened his little kit to let the man glimpse its
contents which might tell him more than words could convey.
With signs and what words he could make use of, Hugh tried to find out
from the injured striker whether there were others still on the
battlefield who would be in need of rescue. Perhaps the man had a
smattering knowledge of English, or else Hugh’s signs were wonderfully
illuminating; at least he comprehended what the boy was trying to ask,
for he pointed back, and then held up the fingers of both hands.
The boys exchanged horrified looks. Hugh hoped there was some mistake on
the part of the man. It would be a dreadful thing if they found the
field covered with dead and wounded strikers; such a calamity had not
been known in the state for many a long year, and the slaughter must
create a wide sentiment in favor of arbitration in these unfortunate
labor disputes. “Come on, boys! No matter what is waiting for us there,
we must go on,” Hugh told his two chums who carried the homely but
useful stretcher.
“I can see the buildings of the cement works right ahead of us, Hugh!”
exclaimed Alec, shortly after they had parted company with the limping
striker who was trying his best to get back among his own people so that
his wounds could be cared for.
“Steady again, everybody!” said Hugh. “We must be careful not to do
anything to make them fire on us. Of course they’re bound to see that we
don’t belong to that crowd, and so I don’t think we run much danger, if
we keep our heads, and they do the same.”
As they drew near the stockade that had been built of heavy planks all
around the works where labor troubles had possibly been of frequent
occurrence, the boys could see that men were watching their approach,
crouching on some sort of platform that gave them a chance to see over
the barricade.
“Oh! there are some of the strikers lying about here, for there’s a man
right now, hugging his knees as though he might be suffering terribly!”
declared Bud.
“I see another—two, three of them!” burst out Alec, in a voice that
trembled; “and, Hugh, what do you think, there’s a little child playing
over there alongside—yes, it must be a woman. Oh! I wonder if the poor
thing is dead, and the baby doesn’t know it?”
“No, for I saw her raise her arm, then, to pull at the child,” said
Hugh. “We must attend to her first of all. But while you’re heading that
way I’ll go straight on a little, and try to get in touch with the party
in command of the guards back of the stockade,” and waving his white
flag, the scout master strode bravely forward.