The Argosy for May — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A TALE OF. THE BOTTLE. 303 Just about that time another guard leisurely shoved signs into a big bul- letin-frame and over one of the gates, indicating that the N. Y., S. and W. train, for a dozen other stations and Hackensack, was in condition to. receive prospective passengers. Once more he was the. first through the gate. But he had to wait for the train to start, exactly like every one else. In his case, that meant a wait of fifteen minutes. There was a delay of two minutes more in getting out of the station-yards. There were five stops before Hacken- sack, and Smith thought he had never seen so many people getting on and off, so much baggage to be handled at each stop. But there was no wreck. Neither of the bridges was washed away, or opened to let a stray catboat pass. ‘There were two tracks, and the train did not have to switch for others. It eventually reached. Hackensack at four minutes past eleven. Smith sprinted up Main Street at a pace that almost aroused that busy thoroughfare from its repose. As he turned the corner into Pleasantdale Avenue, he caught sight of the ambling figure of a messenger-boy ahead. From the opposite corner a small auto- mobile sped toward him, regardless of the regulations of the town council. The automobile, the boy, and Smith ar- rived at the front steps of his home simultaneously. Also simultaneously, Mrs. Smith opened the door and looked wildly at the three. Everybody spoke at once: ‘“Qh, what have you done! Oh, doc- tor, save my child!” wailed Mrs. Smith. “What you been doing to your baby?” asked the doctor in his easy-going, un- alarmed, professionally offhand manner. ‘Message for Mrs. Smith,” announced the boy, as though he were by far the most important individual around. “ Thank God, he’s still alive!’ shout- ed Mr. Smith. For, above the questions and an- nouncements, powerful enough to have drowned out all these sounds, the in- articulate shrieks of Baby Smith could be heard. If Mr. Smith had not been puffing so loudly, he would probably man. have heard his son and heir by the time he was half-way home from the station. All went inside, still talking—all but the messenger-boy. He was left behind. Finding himself. thus neglected, he took possession of one of the chairs on the veranda, and, to keep from growing impatient with the delay, togk out the yellow volume from his pocket and _ be- gan to read where the hero, with a mighty leap, bearing the heroine in his arms, cleared the bottomless chasm and hid himself and his sweetheart in the long swamp-grass on the other side, just in time -to escape the villainous pur- suers. Mrs. Smith began to talk again—or, rather, continued to talk: ‘’ Oh, dear, what shall we do? What shall we do? Everything is all ready, doctor. There is a boiler full of hot water for a bath. The mustard is there —I put a mustard-plaster on his stom- ach. There are three rolls of bandages and two fresh rolls of absorbent cotton and—”’ The doctor repeated his question: “What was it you gave him?” Smith answered in a sepulchral tone of deep despair: “It was boracic acid. Do you think you can save him?” The doctor paused with an expression of disappointment on his face. ‘ Boracic acid? Umm-mm-mm. much of it did you give him?” “TI think it was a_ teaspoonful,” mourned Smith. “Is there any hope?” “ No-o, I hardly think—” How “Oh, don’t say that — don’t tell me “ 7? my baby— wept Mrs. Smith. ‘“No-o; I was just going to say, I don’t know as that would hurt him par- ticularly. Might cause a slight disturb- ance. What else—how much other stuff was there to dilute the boracic?” “Nine ounces of ten-per-cent milk, one and one-half ounces each of milk- sugar, and lime-water, twenty ounces of boiled water.” Smith rattled off the well-known formula automatically. The latter portion of the receipt had to be delivered in a roar. entered the room where. the small pa- tient was making known his distaste with things as they are. Whether he was dangerously poisoned or not, he was highly uncomfortable. GomichbooksEeco They had ©