The Argosy for May — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

304 His clothes had been removed, and re- placed with an assortment of pink and blue blankets, from which a very red head and a very loud noise proceeded. “Um-mm-mmph!” grunted the phy- siclan again, rather louder than the former grunt. “ How many feedings of this mixture with boracic acid have you given?”’ Smith looked at his wife. at him. ‘“T put the acid in this morning’s preparation,” Smith explained. | ‘“Why,” exclaimed his wife, “I haven’t given him any of that yet. He didn’t wake up till half past ten, and just as I got the bottle warmed to give him, your telegram came.” Mrs. Smith’s voice rose with the color in her fair cheeks. ‘“And you, Tom Smith, made me all this trouble—made me take all the skin off his poor little stomach for nothing. You wretch—you—’”’ . “A little sweet oil and cotton will fix that all right, Mrs. Smith,” broke in the doctor. “I guess all I can do is to tell you to mix him some food and give it to him. By the way, did you try that sugar of magnesia I told you to get yes- terday? ” He had to wait for a reply. Smith’s jaw had dropped to an angle where speech was impossible. At last he came to sufficiently to stammer in a_ hoarse whisper : “Sugar of magnesia—sugar of mag- nesia—why—why—why, that .was the She looked NOT FOR SALE: By ELBERT D. WIGGIN, THE ARGOSY. extra powder I put in this morning. I knew I had added something. I—I thought—I forgot the magnesia, and thought it must be boracic acid.” Five minutes later, Baby Smith, his rather raw stomach wrapped in oil and -cotton, clothed, and in his right mind,! so far as he had /any, was peacefully pulling at the rubber nipple of a warm, white bottle. Mrs. Smith was gradually coming around under treatment with an- other bottle—of porter. Mr. Smith had started to see the doc- tor to his automobile, and found the boy, disgruntled over the interruption, just where the Indian ambush began to fire upon the fugitive hero and heroine. The doctor’s chauffeur got the machine cranked up as Smith finished signing for the second of his telegrams. “Say, Mr. Smith,” the physician paused to utter, and his tone was very grave and earnest, ‘“‘ what became of that nurse I recommended to you?” “Why,” explained Smith, “ there was so little for her to do—I suppose my wife gave her a day off.” “Well, look here! When she gets back, you give her my prescriptions for that baby’s food. And you let her make them, and take care of him—wash him, dress him, feed him — and all the rest. Do that, or get another .doctor to look out for your family. Do you under- stand?” Smith said he understood. Then the doctor told his chauffeur to proceed on his way home. Author of “ Nobody's Fool.” The series of misadventures set on foot for one Austrian lieutenant of hussars after he had fallen in with an American party of three. CHAPTER XVIII. WHERE THE CHASE ENDED. eee breezy personality and democratic way had won him the favor of his keepers, and he was granted a good many privileges about the prison, being, indeed, allowed within certain lim- its to do just about as he chose. One of these privileges was the free- dom of the corridor, and he had occu- pied a good part of the time during his incarceration in walking up and down it for exercise, or halting before one of the * Began February ARGOsY. Single copies, 10 cents. JOOL< (C@)