QUICK WORK
The room into which the boys had leaped was a small laboratory
fitted up in the rear of the store. As Bob’s eyes ranged about, they
fell on two bodies lying at the side of the trapdoor. These were
what had been holding the trapdoor down. A glance sufficed to show
Bob that one was the body of his father and the other that of
Thompson, one of the clerks of the store.
In a moment Bob was on his knees at his father’s side.
“Dad!” he cried. “Dad! Are you alive? Speak to me!”
But no answer came from the motionless lips.
Bob put his hand on his father’s heart. It was still beating, though
slowly and fitfully.
“Quick, Joe,” shouted Bob. “Help me get him out of this.”
Joe responded instantly, but at this moment the firemen, who had
been groping about in the blinding fumes, stumbled into the room.
Willing hands grasped the bodies of Mr. Layton and the clerk and
carried them out to the sidewalk. Here a cordon was quickly formed
to keep the crowd back.
The telephone had been busy while these events were happening, and
all the physicians in the town had been summoned. Oxygen tanks and
pulmotors had also been requisitioned from the hospital and the
ambulance containing them arrived just as the rescues were being
effected. Dr. Atwood, Joe’s father, and Dr. Ellis were already on
the scene, and the former took charge of Mr. Layton, while Dr. Ellis
devoted himself to the clerk.
Then followed moments full of heartbreaks for Bob, while he waited
for the doctor’s verdict. Both the physicians worked with skill and
quickness, but it was some time before their efforts were rewarded.
Joe placed his arm affectionately about his friend’s shoulder, while
Herb and Jimmy also added words of encouragement. Bob tried to be
brave, but his heart was rent with anguish while he waited for the
words that would mean life or death.
Finally, after what seemed an age, Dr. Atwood rose to his feet with
relief and satisfaction in his eyes.
“He will live,” he said, and with the words Bob felt as though the
weight of a thousand tons had been lifted from his heart. “For a
while it was a case of touch or go, but you got him out just in
time. Two minutes more and it would have been too late. All he needs
now is rest and good nursing, and he’ll be as well as ever in a
couple of weeks.”
At the same moment Mr. Layton opened his eyes and looked around. His
gaze was vague and uncertain at first, but as his eyes fell upon Bob
they lighted up with a smile of recognition, and he tried to reach
out his hand to him. But he was too weak, and the hand fell
helplessly at his side. In a moment Bob was kneeling beside him and
patting his hand.
“Dad, Dad,” he cried. “Thank God!” And then because his heart was
too full he could say no more.
Dr. Ellis also announced that Thompson was out of danger, and the
patients were lifted into the ambulance and conveyed to their
respective homes.
The week that followed was a trying one for Bob and his mother. The
latter was assiduous at the bedside of her husband, who, although
steadily recovering, mended slowly. Bob, apart from his anxiety over
his father’s condition, found a great deal of responsibility placed
on his shoulders. The store had to be repaired and put in order for
carrying on the business. Insurance also had to be attended to, and
a host of other details forced themselves upon his attention.
Fortunately the head clerk, a Mr. Trent, who had been absent at the
time of the accident, was an expert pharmacist and a good manager;
so that, after the first few days, business had been resumed and was
going on as usual. Still, Bob was heavily taxed with matters that
were comparatively new to him. He rose to the occasion, however, in
a way that made his father proud of him.
“You’re my right hand, Bob,” his father said to him one day, as he
sat by his bedside. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve
carried on affairs as though you were an old hand at the business.
It’s too bad that all this had to be shoved on you so suddenly, but
you’ve stood the test nobly.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” replied Bob, making light of the matter,
though his father’s praise was sweet to him. “All you’ve got to do
is to get well and nothing else matters.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how the thing happened,” mused his
father, “but to save my life I can’t understand it. All I was
conscious of was a terrific noise and a shock as though I had been
hit on the head by a triphammer. Then everything went black and I
knew nothing more until I saw you standing beside me on the
sidewalk.”
“Don’t excite yourself by trying to remember,” replied Bob
soothingly. “The important thing is that you’re alive. All the rest
is nothing.”
Bob’s chums had also felt an anxiety only second to his own. They
were full of sympathy and showed it by doing everything they could
to help him and lighten the load that he was carrying. All the spare
time they had they spent with him at his home or at the store. The
calamity had served to cement the ties that bound the friends
together.
By the time a week had passed, matters took an upward turn. Mr.
Layton began to progress rapidly, and Dr. Atwood prophesied that in
a few days he could begin to attend to business, although at first
he could devote only a few hours a day to it, lengthening the time
as his strength came back. Affairs in the Layton household resumed
their normal course and Bob had time to catch up with his studies
that had been temporarily neglected and devote himself once more to
his beloved radio.
His interest in the latter was further heightened by the receipt of
a letter that came one morning to his father, and whose contents Bob
proceeded at once to share with his comrades.
“That talk by Mr. Bentley over the radio is fixed for to-morrow
night, fellows,” he told them eagerly, as they started off for
school. “Don’t make any other engagement and be sure to be on hand.
Suppose you come round to my house to listen in. I’ve been tinkering
on my set this last day or two, and I’ve got it tuned to the queen’s
taste. And if it’s as cool to-morrow as it is to-day, old static
won’t be butting in to any extent.”
“Let’s hope not,” replied Joe. “I don’t want to miss a single word.”
“Same here,” echoed Herb. “That Bentley has something to say and he
sure knows how to say it.”
“It’s always worth while listening when a he-man talks,” commented
Jimmy, whose imagination had been captured by the breezy personality
of the bronzed forest ranger.