Croyden raised him in their arms, and that in spite of
their gentleness he had cried with pain at their touch. Then he had
been put on his bed where his father proceeded to examine the injured
leg. Every motion the Doctor made caused the boy intense
agony. Afterward he had been allowed to rest, and then his father bent
over him very gravely and with trembling lips said:
"Son, I've got to hurt you; I've got to hurt you a great deal. Your
leg is broken, and we are miles from a hospital. I have no ether to
give you, and the bone must be set. I want you to be as brave as you
can and bear the pain that I must cause you. I need not tell you that
I will work as gently as possible. Now pull yourself together and show
me the sort of son I have. The more steady your nerve is the more it
will help me, and the sooner I can finish what I must do."
"All right, Father."
"That's the stuff!" ejaculated Mr. Croyden, who was standing at the
bedside. "You are a genuine Spartan, Theo."
The lad smiled feebly.
"I'll try to be."
"Of course you will! You are your father's own boy."
Dr. Swift stooped and touched the drawn forehead with his cool hand.
"I am going to leave you with Mr.
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