The Doctor

R >> Ralph Connor >> The Doctor


"I ought to apologize for looking at your patients," said Dr. Bailey.
"I came in thinking I might be of some assistance in dealing with this
outbreak of diphtheria, and I was naturally anxious to see--"

"Diphtheria!" blurted Haines. "Nothing of the sort."

"Dr. Haines, the man you sent out last night had it."

"HAD it?"

"He died an hour after arriving at No. 1."

"Dead? Cursed fool! He WOULD go against my will."

"Against your will? Would you let a man in the last stages of diphtheria
leave this camp against your will with the company's team?"

"Well, I knew he shouldn't go. But he wanted to go himself, and the
foreman would have him out."

"There are at least four men going about the camp--they are now in the
cook-house where the breakfast is being prepared--who are suffering from
a severe attack of diphtheria."

"What do you propose? What can I do in this cursed hole?" said Dr.
Haines petulantly. "No appliances, no means of isolation, no nurses,
nothing. Beside, I have half a dozen camps to look after. What can I
do?"

"Do you ask me?" The scorn in the voice was only too apparent. "Isolate
the infected at least."

Haines swore deeply to himself while, with trembling hand, he poured
out a cupful of whiskey from a bottle standing on a convenient shelf.
"Isolate? How can I isolate? There's no building in which--"

"Make one."

"Make one? Young man, do you know what you are talking about? Do you
know where you are? Do you know who is running this camp?"

"No. But I do know that these men must be isolated within an hour."

"Impossible! I tell you it is impossible!"

"Dr. Haines, an inquest upon the man sent out from this camp last night
would result in the verdict of manslaughter. There was no inquest. There
will be on the next man that dies if there is any neglect."

The seriousness of the situation began to dawn upon Haines. "Well,"
he said, "if you think you can isolate them, go ahead. I'll see the
foreman."

"Every minute is precious. I gave those four men antitoxin. Are there
others?"

"Don't know," Haines growled, as with an oath he went out, followed by
Dr. Bailey. Just outside the door they met the foreman.

"This is Dr. Bailey, Mr. Craigin." Craigin growled out a salutation.
"Dr. Bailey here says these sick men have diphtheria."

"How does he know?" inquired Craigin shortly.

"He has examined them this morning."

"Have you?"

"No, not yet."

"Then you don't know they have diphtheria?"

"No," replied Haines weakly.

"These men have diphtheria, Mr. Craigin, without a doubt, and they ought
to be isolated at once."

"Isolated? How?"

"A separate camp must be built and someone appointed to attend them."

"A separate camp!" exclaimed Craigin; "I'll see them blanked first! Look
here, Haines, let's have no nonsense about this. I'm three weeks, yes,
a month, behind with this job here. This blank, blank muskeg is knocking
the whole contract endways. We can't spare a single man half a day. And
more than that, you go talking diphtheria in this camp and you can't
hold the men here an hour. It's all I can do to hold them as it is." And
Craigin went off into an elaborate course of profanity descriptive of
the various characteristics of the men in his employ.

"But what is to be done?" asked Haines helplessly.

"Send 'em out to the steel. They're better in the hospital, anyway. It's
fine to-day. We'll send every man Jack out to-day."

"These men can't be moved," said Dr. Bailey in a quiet voice. "You sent
a man out yesterday and he's dead."

"He was bound to go himself. We didn't send him. Anyway, it's none of
YOUR business. Look here, Haines, you know me. I'm not going to have
any of this blank nonsense of isolation hospitals and all that blankety
blank rot. Dose 'em up good and send 'em out."

Dr. Haines stood silent, too evidently afraid of the foreman.

"Mr. Craigin, it would be murder," said Dr. Bailey, "sure murder. Some
of them might get through. Some would be sure to die. The consequences
to those responsible--to Dr. Haines, for instance--would be serious. I
am quite sure he will never give orders that these men should be moved."

"He won't, eh? You just wait till you see him do it. Haines will give
the orders right enough." Craigin's laugh was like the growl of a bear.
"There's a reason, ain't there, Haines? Now you hear me. Those men are
going out to-day, and so are you, you blank, blank interferin' skunk."

Dr. Bailey smiled sweetly at Craigin. "You may call me what you please
just now, Mr. Craigin. Before the day is over you won't have enough
names left. For I tell you that these men suffering from diphtheria are
going to stay here, and are going to be properly cared for."

Craigin was white. That this young pale-faced stranger should presume
to come into his domain, where his word was wont to run as absolute
law, filled him with rage unspeakable. But there were serious issues at
stake, and with a supreme effort he controlled the passionate longing to
spring upon this upstart and throttle him. He turned sharply to Haines.

"Dr. Haines, you think these men can go out to-day?"

Haines hesitated.

"You understand me, Haines; these men go out or--"

Haines was evidently in some horrible dread of the foreman. A moment
more he paused and then surrendered.

"Oh, hang it, Bailey, I don't think they're so terribly ill. I guess
they can go out."

"Dr. Haines," said Craigin, "is that your decision?"

"Yes, I think so."

"All right," said Craigin, with a triumphant sneer. He turned to Tommy,
who was standing near with half a dozen men who had just come out from
breakfast. "Here you, Tommy, get a couple of teams ready and all the
buffalo robes you need and be ready to start in an hour. Do you hear?"

"I do," said Tommy, turning slowly away.

"Tommy," called Dr. Bailey in a sharp, clear tone, "you took a man out
from this camp yesterday. Tell the men here what happened."

"Sure, they all know it," said Tommy, who had already told the story of
poor Scotty's death and of the doctor's efforts to save him. "An' it's a
fine bhoy he wuz, poor Scotty, an' niver a groan out av him all the way
down, an' not able to swally a taste whin I gave it to him."

Craigin sprang toward Tommy in a fury. "Here you blank, blank, blank! Do
what I tell you! And the rest of you men, what are you gawkin' at here?
Get to work!"

The men gave back, and some began to move away. Dr. Bailey walked
quickly past Craigin into the midst of the group.

"Men, I want to say something to you." His voice commanded their instant
attention. "There are half a dozen of your comrades in this camp sick
with diphtheria. I came up here to help. They ought to be isolated to
prevent the spread of the disease, and they ought to be cared for at
once. The foreman proposes to send them out. One went out yesterday. He
died last night. If these men go out to-day some of them will die, and
it will be murder. What do you say? Will you let them go?" A wrathful
murmur ran through the crowd, which was being rapidly increased every
moment by others coming from breakfast.

"Get to your work, you fellows, or get your time!" shouted Craigin,
pouring out oaths. "And you," turning toward Dr. Bailey, "get out of
this camp."

"I am here in consultation with Dr. Haines," replied Dr. Bailey. "He has
asked my advice, and I am giving it."

"Send him out, Haines. And be quick about it!"

By this time the men were fully roused. One of them came forward.

"What do you propose should be done, Doctor?" he inquired.

"Are you going to work, McLean?" shouted Craigin furiously. "If not, go
and get your time."

"We're going to talk this matter over a minute, Mr. Craigin," said
McLean quietly. "It's a serious matter. We are all concerned in it, and
we'll decide in a few minutes what is to be done."

"Every man who is not at work in five minutes will get his time," said
Craigin, and he turned away and passed into the office.

"What do you propose should be done, Doctor?" said McLean, ignoring the
foreman.

"Build a camp where the sick men can be placed by themselves and where
they can be kept from infecting the rest of the camp. Half a day's work
of a dozen men will do it. If we send them out some of them will die.
Besides, it is almost certain that some more of you have already been
infected."

At once eager discussion began. Some, in dread terror of the disease,
were for sending out the sick immediately, but the majority would
not listen to this inhuman proposal. Finally McLean came again to Dr.
Bailey.

"The men want to know if you can guarantee that the disease can be
stamped out here if you have a separate camp for an hospital?"

"We can guarantee nothing," replied Dr. Bailey. "But it is altogether
the safer way to fight the disease. And I am of the opinion that we can
stamp it out." The doctor's air and tone of quiet confidence, far more
than his words, decided the men's action. In a minute more it was agreed
that the sick men should stay and that they would all stand together in
carrying out the plan of isolation.

"If he gives any of us time," said Tommy, "we'll all take it, begob."

"No, men," said the doctor, "let's not make trouble. I know Mr.
Maclennan slightly, and he's a just man, and he'll do what's fair.
Besides, we don't want to interfere with the job. Give me a dozen
men--one must be able to cook--and in half a day the work will be
finished. I will be personally responsible for everything."

At this point Craigin came out. "Here's your time, McLean," he said,
thrusting a time check at him.

McLean took it without a word and went over and stood by Dr. Bailey's
side.

"Who are coming?" called out McLean.

"All of us," cried a voice. "Pick out your men, McLean."

"All right," said McLean, looking over the crowd.

"I'm wan," said Tommy, running over to the doctor's side. "I seen him
shtand by Scotty whin the lad wus fightin' fer his life, an' if I'm tuk
it's him I want beside me."

One by one McLean called his men, each taking his place beside the
doctor, while the rest of the men moved off to work.

"Mr. Craigin, I am going to use these men for half a day." said Dr.
Bailey.

For answer Craigin, in mad rage, throwing aside all regard for
consequences, rushed at him, but half a dozen men were in his path
before he had taken the second step.

"Hold on, Mr. Craigin," said McLean, "we want no violence. We're going
to do what we think right in this matter, so you may as well make up
your mind to it."

"And Mr. Craigin," continued the doctor, "we shall need some things out
of your stores."

Craigin stepped back from the crowd and on to the office steps. "Your
time is waiting you, men. And listen to me. If any man goes near that
there storehouse door, I'll drop him in his tracks. I've got the law and
I'll do it, so help me God." He went into the office and returned in a
moment with a Winchester, which he loaded in full view of the men.

"Never mind him, boys," said the doctor cheerily, "I'm going to have
breakfast. Come, Tommy, I want you."

In fifteen minutes he came out, with the key of the storehouse in his
hand, to find the men still waiting his orders and Craigin on guard with
his Winchester.

"Don't go just yet," said McLean to the doctor in a low voice, "we'll
get round him."

"Oh, he'll not shoot," said Dr. Bailey.

"He will. He will. I knew him in Michigan. He'll shoot and he'll kill,
too."

For a single instant the doctor hesitated. His men were about him
waiting his lead. Craigin with his rifle held them all in check. A
moment's thought and his decision was taken. He stepped toward Craigin
and said in a clear voice, "Mr. Craigin, these stores are necessary to
save these men's lives. I want them and I'm going to take them. Murder
me, if you like."

"Hear me, men." Craigin's voice was cold and deliberate. "These stores
are in my charge. I am an officer of the law. If any man lays his hand
on that latch I'll shoot him, so help me God."

"Hear me, Mr. Craigin," replied Dr. Bailey. "I'm here in consultation
with Dr. Haines, who has turned over this matter to my charge. In a case
of this kind the doctor's orders are supreme. This whole camp is under
his authority. These stores are necessary, and I am going to get them."
He well knew the weak spot in his position, but he counted on Craigin's
nerve breaking down. In that, however, he was mistaken. Without haste,
but without hesitation, he walked toward the storehouse door. When three
paces from it Craigin's voice arrested him.

"Hold on there! Put your hand on that door and, as God lives, you're a
dead man!"

Without a word the doctor turned again toward the door. The men with
varying cries rushed toward the foreman. Craigin threw up his rifle.
Immediately a shot rang out and Craigin fell to the snow, the smoking
rifle dropping from his hand.

"Begob, I niver played baseball," cried Tommy, rushing in and seizing
the rifle, "but many's the time I've had the divarsion in the streets av
Dublin of bringin' down the polismen wid a brick."

A heavy horseshoe, heaved with sure aim, had saved the doctor's life.
They carried Craigin into the office and laid him on the bed, the blood
streaming from a ghastly wound in his scalp. Quickly Dr. Bailey got to
work and before Craigin had regained consciousness the wound was sewed
up and dressed. Then giving him over to the charge of Haines, Dr. Bailey
went about the work he had in hand.

Before the noon hour had arrived the eight men who were discovered to
be in various stages of diphtheria were comfortably housed in a roomy
building rudely constructed of logs, tar paper, and tarpaulin, with a
small cook-house attached and Tommy Tate in charge. And before night had
fallen the process of disinfecting the bedding, clothing, bunk-house,
and cookery was well under way, while all who had been in immediate
contact with the infected men had been treated by the doctor with
antitoxin as a precautionary measure.

Thus the first day's campaign against death closed with the issue still
undecided, but the chances for winning were certainly greater than they
had been. What the result would be when Craigin was able to take command
again, no one could say. But in the meantime, for the next two days,
the work on the dump was prosecuted with all vigour, the men feeling in
honour bound to support the doctor in that part of the fight which fell
to them.




XVIII

THE MEDICAL SUPERINTENDENT OF THE CROW'S NEST


Mr. Maclennan was evidently worried. His broad, good-humoured face,
which usually wore a smile indicating content with the world and
especially with himself, was drawn into a frown. The muskeg was beating
him, and he hated to be beaten. He was bringing in General Manager Fahey
to have a look at things. It was important to awaken the sympathy of the
General Manager, if, indeed, this could be accomplished. But the General
Manager had a way of insisting upon his contracts being fulfilled, and
this stretch in Maclennan's charge was the one spot which the General
Manager feared would occasion delay.

"There's the hole," said Maclennan, as they turned down the hill into
the swamp. "Into that hole," he continued, pointing to where the dump
ended abruptly in the swamp, "I can't tell you how many millions of
carloads have been dumped. I used to brag that I was never beaten in my
life, but that hole--"

"Maclennan, that hole has got to be filled up, bridged, or trestled, and
we can't wait too long, either."

The General Manager's name was a synonym for a relentless sort of energy
in railroad construction that refused to consider obstacles. Nothing
could stand in his way. The thing behind which he put the weight of
his determination simply had to move in one direction or other. The
contractor that failed expected no mercy, and received none.

"We're doing our best," said Maclennan, "and we will continue to do our
best. Hello! what's this? What's Craigin doing up here? Hold up, Sandy.
We'll look in."

At the door of the hospital Dr. Haines met him.

"Hello, Doctor! What have you got here?"

"Isolation hospital," replied the doctor shortly.

"What hospital?"

"Isolation."

"Has Craigin gone mad all at once?"

"Craigin has nothing to do with it. There's a new boss in camp."

A look of wrathful amazement crossed Maclennan's countenance. Haines was
beginning to enjoy himself.

"A new boss? What do you mean?"

"What I say. A young fellow calling himself Dr. Bailey came into this
camp three days ago, raised the biggest kind of a row, laid up Craigin
with a broken head, and took charge of the camp." Maclennan stood in
amazement looking from Haines to the General Manager.

"Dr. Bailey? You mean Bailey from No. 1? What has he got to do with it?
And how did Craigin come to allow him?"

"Ask Craigin," replied Haines.

"What have you got in there, Doctor?" asked Mr. Fahey.

"Diphtheria patients."

"How many?"

"Well, we began with eight three days ago and we've ten to-day."

"Well, this knocks me out," said Maclennan. "Where's Craigin, anyway?"

"He's down in his own room in bed."

Maclennan turned and got into the sleigh. "Come on, Fahey," he said,
"let's go down. Something extraordinary has happened. You can't believe
that fellow Haines. What are you laughing at?"

Fahey was too much of an Irishman to miss seeing the humour of any
situation. "I can't help it, Maclennan. I'll bet you a box of cigars
that man Bailey is an Irishman. He must be a whirlwind. But it's no
laughing matter," continued the General Manager, sobering up. "This has
a very serious aspect. There are a whole lot of men sick in our camps.
You contractors don't pay enough attention to your health."

"Health! When you're driving us like all possessed there's no time to
think of health."

"I tell you, Maclennan, it's bad policy. You have got to think of
health. The newspapers are beginning to talk. Why, look at that string
of men you met going out. Of course, the great majority of them never
should have come in. Hundreds of men are here who never used either
shovel or axe. They cut themselves, get cold, rheumatism, or something;
they're not fit for their work. All the same, we get blamed. But my
theory is that every camp should have an hospital, with three main
hospitals along this branch. There's one at Macleod. It is filled,
overflowing. A young missionary fellow, Boyle, has got one running out
at Kuskinook supported by some Toronto ladies. It's doing fine work,
too; but it's overflowing. There's a young lady in charge there, a Miss
Robertson, and she's a daisy. The trouble there is you can't get the
fellows to leave, and I don't blame them. If ever I get sick send me to
her. I tell you, Maclennan, if we had two or three first-class men,
with three main hospitals, a branch in every camp, we'd keep the health
department in first-class condition. The men would stay with us. We'd
get altogether better results."

"That's all right," said Maclennan, "but where are you to get your
first-class men? They come to us with letters from Directors or some big
bug or other. You've got to appoint them. Look at that man Haines. He
doesn't know his work and he's drunk half the time. Dr. Bailey seems to
be different. He certainly knows his work and he never touches whiskey.
I got him up from the Gap to No. 1. In two weeks' time he had things in
great shape. Funny thing, too, when he's fighting some sickness or busy
he's all right, but when things get quiet he hits the green table hard.
He's a wonder at poker, they say."

The General Manager pricked up his ears. "Poker, eh? I'll remember
that."

"But this here business is going too far," continued Maclennan. "I
didn't hire him to run my camps. Well, we'll see what Craigin has to
say."

As they drove into the camp they were met by Narcisse, the cook.

"Bo' jour, M'sieu Maclenn'. You want something for hit?"

"Good-day, cook," said Maclennan. "Yes, we'll take a cup of tea in a few
minutes. I want to see Mr. Craigin."

Narcisse drew near Maclennan and in subdued voice announced, "M'sieu
Craigin, he's not ver' well. He's hurt hisself. He's lie on bed."

"Why, what's the matter with him?"

Narcisse shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, some leet' troub'. You pass on de
office you see de docteur."

"Why, Haines is up at the hospital. We just saw him."

"Hain!" said Narcisse, with scorn indescribable. "Dat's no docteur for
one horse. Bah! De mans go seeck, seeck, he can noting. He know noting.
He's get on beeg drunk! Non! Nodder docteur. He's come in, fin' tree,
four mans seeck on de troat, cough, cough, sore, bad. Fill up de
cook-house. Can't do noting. Sainte Marie! Dat new docteur, he's come
on de camp, he's mak' one leet' fight, he's beeld hospital an' get dose
seeck mans all nice an' snug. Bon. Good. By gar, dat's good feller!"

The smile broadened on Fahey's face. "I say, Maclennan, he's captured
your camp. He's got the cook, dead sure."

The smile didn't help Maclennan's temper. He opened the office door and
passed into Craigin's private room at the back. Here he found Dr. Bailey
in charge. As he opened the door the doctor put up his hand for silence
and backed him out into the office.

"Excuse me, Mr. Maclennan," he said, "he's asleep and must not be
disturbed."

Maclennan shook hands with him with a cold "How are you," and introduced
him to Mr. Fahey.

"Is Mr. Craigin ill?" inquired Fahey innocently.

"He has met with a slight accident," replied the doctor. "He is doing
well and will be about in a day or two."

"Accident?" snorted Maclennan; then clearing his throat as for a speech
he began in a loud tone, "Dr. Bailey, I must say--"

"Excuse me," said the doctor, opening the office door and marshalling
them outside, "we'd better go somewhere else if we are going to talk.
It is important that my patient should be kept perfectly quiet."
The doctor's air was so entirely respectful and at the same time
so masterful that Maclennan found himself walking meekly toward the
grub-house behind the doctor, with Fahey, the smile on his face broader
than ever, bringing up the rear. Maclennan caught the smile, but in the
face of the doctor's quiet, respectful manner he found it difficult to
rouse himself to wrath. He took refuge in bluster.

"Upon my word, Dr. Bailey," he burst forth when once they were inside
the grub-house, "it seems to me that you have carried things on with a
high hand in this camp. You come in here, a perfect stranger, you head a
mutiny, you lay up my foreman with a dangerous wound, with absolutely
no authority from anyone. What in the blank, blank do you mean, anyway?"
Maclennan was rather pleased to find himself at length taking fire.

"Mr. Maclennan," said the doctor quietly, "it is natural you should be
angry. Let me give you the facts before you pass your final judgment.
A man was sent to me from this camp in a dying condition. Diphtheria. I
learned there were others suffering here with the same disease. I came
in at once to offer assistance. Consulted with Dr. Haines. We came to a
practical agreement as to what ought to be done. Mr. Craigin objected.
There was some trouble. Unfortunately, Mr. Craigin was hurt."

"Dr. Bailey," said the General Manager, "it will save trouble if you
will go somewhat fully into the facts. We want an exact statement of
what occurred." The authoritative tone drew Dr. Bailey's attention to
the rugged face of the speaker, with its square forehead and bull-dog
jaw. He recognized at once that he had to deal with a man of more than
ordinary force, and he proceeded to give him an exact statement of all
that had happened, beginning with the death of Scotty Anderson.

"That is all, gentlemen," said the doctor, as he concluded his tale; "I
did what I considered was right. Prompt action was necessary. I may have
been mistaken, but I think not."

"Mistaken!" cried Fahey, with a great oath. "I tell you, Maclennan,
we've had a close shave. We may, perhaps, explain that one man's death,
but if six or eight men had gone out of this camp in the condition in
which the doctor says they were, the results would have been not only
deplorable as far as the men are concerned, but disastrous to us with
the public. Why, good heavens above! what a shave it was! Dr. Bailey, I
am proud to meet you," continued Fahey, putting out his hand. "You had
a most difficult situation to deal with and you handled it like a
general."

"I quite agree with you," said Maclennan, shaking Dr. Bailey warmly by
the hand. "The measures were somewhat drastic, but something had to be
done. Go right on, Doctor. When Craigin is on his feet again we'll send
him out."

"Mr. Craigin will be quite fit to work in a day or so. But I would
suggest that he keep his place. You can't afford to lose a man of his
force."

"Well, well, we'll see, we'll see."

"Dr. Bailey, I'd like to see your hospital arrangements. Mac will be
busy just now and will excuse us."

The next two hours the General Manager spent in extracting from Dr.
Bailey his theories in regard to camp sanitation and the care of the
sick. Finding a listener at once so sympathetic and so intelligent, Dr.
Bailey seized the opportunity of expatiating to the fullest extent upon
the theme which, during the last few months, had been absorbing his
mind.