You ought to be looked after by Doctor Wambold; broken bones are not things to be trifled with, and while this party seems to have done the best he could it can only be a make shift." "Don't you believe it, Hugh," said the injured boy warmly; "why, he's a regular jim-dandy about such jobs.

I bet you he used to be an army surgeon in his younger days, from hints he's let drop.

And then he knows the Signal Corps work right off the handle to boot, even if---well, I won't say what I meant to.

He's been so kind and considerate to me; my own father couldn't have been more tender.
I've guessed the secret of the old haunted quarry, Hugh!" which last he almost whispered in the other's ear.
"Yes, I can say the same," muttered Hugh, "because, as soon as I saw that he was using the regular army code of signals, I remembered about hearing how a certain family over near Hackensack had an uncle who used to be in the Signal Corps and was also later on an army surgeon, but who had suffered a sunstroke, and, well, was said to be a bit queer." "Yes," whispered K.K., "this is the same party.

His name, I remember, was Dr.Coursens, and there was some talk last summer about his having got loose from the house and being drowned, they believed, in the river, though his body was never found.