"
The hospital man showed his face at the grating and looked at Truax
keenly.
"Wow! The sawbones officer has got to look at this chap!"
Sam Truax sprang to his feet, but his legs wobbled. He felt his
heart-beats racing and his face flushing.
"I felt all right a little while ago, but I certainly feel queer now," he
muttered.
Doctor McCrea soon hurried below.
"Sentry, unlock the door! Let me in there!"
Doctor McCrea made a brief examination.
"How long have you been feeling ill?"
"N-not long," faltered Truax.
"Hospital man!" called Doctor McCrea.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Have the stretcher brought here at once."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The stretcher was brought, and the attendants put Truax on it.
"I can walk, Doctor," he protested feebly.
"Can't risk it! To the 'sick bay,' men."
"What's wrong, Doctor?" Truax asked, when he was lifted from the stretcher
and placed in one of the berths.
"Don't talk, my man. Just lie quietly and let us get you on your feet--if
we can," he added under his breath, but not so softly but that Sam Truax
heard him.
The attendant came with a glass of liquid.
"Drink this," ordered the surgeon, "and in a few minutes you'll feel
better.
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