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Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 20. The Cadet Hospital |
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_ CHAPTER XX. THE CADET HOSPITAL Cadet Prescott lay on one of the operating tables at cadet hospital. Without a murmur he submitted to the examination. At times the work of the medical officer's hurt a good deal, but this was evidenced only by a firmer pressing together of the young soldiers lips. At last they paused. "Are you through, gentlemen?" Dick asked, looking steadily at the two medical officers. "Yes," answered Captain Goodwin, the senior surgeon. "May I properly ask what you find?" "We are not yet quite sure," replied the senior surgeon. "None of the bones of the spine are broken. There has, of course, been a severe wrenching there. Whether your injury is going to continue into a serious or permanent injury we cannot yet say. A good deal will depend upon the grit with which you face things." "I am a soldier," replied Dick doggedly. "Even if I am not much longer to be one." "We will now have you removed to your cot. We are not going to place you in a cast as yet, anyway. It is possible that, after a few days, you may be able to walk fairly well." "In that case, captain, is it then likely that I shall be able to return to duty?" "Yes; the quicker things mend, and the sooner you are able to walk without help, the greater will be your chance of pulling through this injury and remaining in the service." "Then I'd like to try walking back to barracks right now," smiled Cadet Prescott, wistfully. "You are not to think of it, Mr. Prescott! You must not even attempt to put a foot out of bed until we give you permission. If you take the slightest risk of further injury to your back you are likely to settle your case for good and all, so far as the Army is concerned." "I told you I was a soldier, sir," Dick replied promptly. "For that reason I shall obey orders." "Good! That's the way to talk, Mr. Prescott," replied the senior medical officer heartily. "The better soldier you are, the better your chances are of remaining in the Army." "There won't be any need, will there, captain, to send word to my father and mother of this accident until it is better known how serious it is?" coaxed Dick. "If you wish the news withheld for the present, I will direct the adjutant to respect your wishes." "If you will be so good, sir," begged the hapless cadet. Hospital men were summoned and Dick was skillfully, tenderly transferred to a cot in another room. The steward stood by and took his orders silently from Captain Goodwin. Hardly had this much been accomplished when a hospital service man entered, passing a card to Captain Goodwin. "Admit him," nodded the surgeon. In another minute Captain Albutt stepped into the room, going over to the cot and resting one of his hands over the cadet's right hand. "How are you feeling?" asked Captain Albutt. "Fine, sir, thank you," replied Dick cheerily. "I'm glad your pluck is up. And I hear that you have a good chance." "I hope so, sir, with all my heart. The Army means everything in life to me, sir. And Captain Albutt, I want to thank you for your splendid conduct in risking your own life to save me." "Surely, Prescott," replied the captain quietly, "you know the spirit of the service better than to thank a soldier for doing his duty." Captain Albutt had called him simply "Prescott," dropping the "mister," which officers are usually so careful to prefix to a cadet's name when addressing him. This little circumstance, slight as it was, cheered the cadet's heart. It was a tactful way of dropping all difference in rank, and of admitting Prescott to full-fledged fraternity in the Army. "I shall inquire after you every day, Prescott, and be delighted when you can be admitted to the riding work again;" said the captain in leaving. "And I think you need have no fear of seeing Satan on the tan-bark again. If I have any influence, that beast will never be assigned to a cadet's use after this." When Captain Albutt had gone Greg came in, on tiptoe. "Out the soft pedal, old chap," smiled Dick cheerily, as their hands met. "I'm not a badly hurt man. The worst of this is that it keeps me from recitations for a few days. If it weren't for that, I'd enjoy lying here at my ease, with no need to bother about reveille or taps." Greg's manner was light-hearted and easy. He had come to cheer up his chum, but found there was no need for it. Then the superintendent's adjutant dropped in on his way home from the day in the office at headquarters. Having talked with Captain Goodwin, the adjutant agreed that there was no need, for a few days, to notify Prescott's parents and cause them uneasiness. "We'll hope, Mr. Prescott," smiled the adjutant, "that you'll be well able to sit up and send them the first word of the affair in your own hand, coupled with the information that you're out of all danger." Had it not been for his natural courage, Cadet Prescott would have been a very restless and "blue" young man. He knew, as well as did anyone else, that the chances of his complete recovery to sound enough condition for future Army service were wholly in the balance. But Captain Goodwin had impressed upon him that good spirits would have a lot to do with his chances. So strong was his will that Prescott was actually almost light-hearted when it came around time to eat his evening meal of "thin slops." Over in cadet barracks interest ran at full height. Greg had to receive scores of cadets who dropped in to inquire for the best word. One of the last of these to come was Cadet Haynes. Greg received him rather frigidly, though with no open breach of courtesy. "It's too bad," began Haynes. "Of course it is," nodded Holmes. "Prescott has very little chance of remaining in the corps, I suppose?" "The surgeons don't quite say that," rejoined Greg. "Oh, the rainmakers (doctors) are always cagey about giving real information until a man's dead," declared the turnback sagely. "They seem to believe that Prescott has an excellent chance," insisted Greg. "No bones broken?" "Not a one." "What is the trouble, then?" "The rainmakers can't say exactly. They're waiting and watching." "Humph! That sounds pretty bad for their patient." "They say that if Prescott is able to walk soon, then his return to duty ought to be rather speedy." "I'd like to believe the rainmakers," grunted Haynes. "Would you?" inquired Greg very coolly. "Of course." "What is your particular interest in my roommate?" demanded Cadet Holmes. He looked straight into the other's eyes. "Why, Prescott is one of the best and most popular fellows in the class. I've always liked him immensely, and-----" "Humph!" broke in Cadet Holmes, using the turnback's own favorite word. To just what this scene might have led it is impossible to say, but just at that instant Anstey and two other second classmen came into the room, and the turnback seized the opportunity to get away. Though Cadet Prescott was so cheerful over his injury he was in a good deal of pain as the evening wore on. Every hour or so Goodwin or the other surgeon came in to see him. Though Prescott could hardly be expected to understand it, the surgeons were pleased, on the whole, with the pain. Had there been numbness, instead, the surgeons would have looked for paralysis. Later in the night Dick asked Captain Goodwin if he could not administer some light opiate. "You are willing to be a soldier, I know, Mr. Prescott," replied the surgeon. "Be sure of that, sir," replied the young man, Wincing. "Then try to bear the pain. It is the best indication with which we have to deal. It is one of the most hopeful symptoms for which we could look. Besides, your descriptions of the pain, and of its locality, if you are accurate, will give us our best indication of what to do for you." "Then I don't want any opiate, sir," replied Dick bluntly. "I don't care whether I'm kept here a day or a year, or what I have to suffer, only as long as I don't have to lose an active career in the service!" "Good for you, my young soldier," beamed the surgeon, patting the cadet's hand. "The superintendent telephoned over, a little while ago, to ask how you were. I told him that your grit was the best we had seen here in a long time." "Thank you, sir." "And the superintendent replied, dryly enough, that he expected that from your general record. The superintendent sent you his personal regards." "Thank you, sir, and the superintendent, too." "Oh, and a lot of others have been inquiring about you, too---the K.C. and all of the professors and most of the instructors. And at least a small regiment of cadets have tramped down as far as the office door also. I've been saving the names of inquirers, and will tell you the names in the morning. All except the names of the cadets, that is. There was too big a mob of cadets for us to attempt to keep the names." It was a painful, restless, feverish night for Prescott. He slept a part of the time, though when he did his sleep was filled with nightmares. The surgeons won his gratitude by their devotion to his interests. The first half of the night Captain Goodwin was in at least every hour. The latter half of the night it was Lieutenant Sadtler who made the round. By permission Cadet Holmes came to the hospital office just after breakfast. It was a gloomy face that poor Greg wore back to barracks with him. The surgeons had spoken hopefully, but--- "Brains always work better than brute force," Haynes told himself, struggling hard to preserve his self-esteem. _ |
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