  When the padrone came hurrying back with the six boys, they were immediately surrounded by an excited mass of jabbering foreigners. Many dark faces glowered at Hugh and his chums. It was as though all the fury in these excitable natures had been aroused when the indiscreet guards, back of the stockade surrounding the cement works, had fired those cruel volleys at the men and women who were pressing forward, not to try and destroy property but to expostulate with the manager because he would not give them work when their children were near the point of starvation. The padrone immediately told some of those near by what the boys had come to do for them. Somehow it seemed to soothe the angry feelings of the most violent, to some extent at least. There was no longer a hostile demonstration on the part of the crowd. Some looked at the boys apathetically, as though they could not quite understand what it all meant; others showed a little interest, while one man plucked Hugh by the sleeve, and attempted to lead him away. “You, doctor, come, my woman she seek, she be bad hurt!” this fellow was saying, piteously. Hugh, knowing that a start must be made somewhere, allowed himself to be led off. “Keep along with me, boys,” he said to the others; “I may need your help.” He knew that Arthur Cameron was likely to prove his mainstay in catering to the needs of these poor people who were in such distress. At the same time all of the other scouts were capable of doing more or less along the line of stopping a wound from bleeding, and binding it up after the recognized principles of field surgery—something to tide over an emergency until a better examination could be attempted by a regular surgeon. A minute later and they reached a spot where a heavy-set old woman lay upon a dirty blanket. Several other women were gathered around. They had a tin basin with water in it, and seemed to be trying in their clumsy fashion to attend to the gunshot wound the woman had received. Hugh took hold of the case immediately. When the eagerly watching padrone saw the business-like way of the boy as he started to wash the jagged cut in the upper arm, after which he proceeded, with Arthur’s assistance, to lessen the bleeding as he had been taught to do, a pleased look crept over that grim dark face. “See how his earrings dance when he nods his head that way,” whispered Alec Sands to Billy. “He knows we can deliver the goods now. He approves of scouts as field surgeons. And say, let me tell you, the boys are making a bully job of that woman’s arm. It’s a nasty cut, all right, and I’d hate to tackle it alone, though I reckon I’d try to do my level best.” When Hugh found that a point had been reached where he could safely leave the rest of the binding up to some of the others, he called upon Billy and Ralph to get busy. “They say there is another man here who is badly hurt, and I’m afraid several others may be still lying out there on the field. We’ll try to rig up some kind of stretcher and get them here a little later. Alec, suppose you and Bud see if you can find some stuff to make one out of—poles, with bed ticking or burlap fastened across. It’ll be saving time, you know.” “Only too glad, Hugh,” replied Alec, cheerfully; for he disliked inaction above all things, as many boys do. Give them something to do, let them feel that they are of some importance in the working out of plans, and they will show themselves eager to do their very best. It was found that the man had been shot in the back. Hugh felt that he was badly hurt, though with care he might pull through. The boy had never attempted so serious a task as he now found on his hands, and he was glad that Arthur was there to back him up. First of all he asked the padrone to make the people stand back, for they were crowding close in, all eyes filled with wonder at seeing mere boys performing the grave duties of army surgeons. Their wonder grew as they saw how Hugh and Arthur seemed to know just what best to do, and how deftly their fingers worked. The dark frowns began to disappear, and confidence replaced suspicion. It would no longer be dangerous for any boy wearing that khaki uniform to move among those strikers, after they had seen with their own eyes that the mission bringing these boys to the camp had been one of peace and not of war. Meanwhile Alec and Bud were doing their best to carry out the suggestion made by the scout master, though they found it no easy job. By dint of looking around they managed to pick up two stout poles that would answer for the sides of the stretcher, but finding a suitable substitute for the usual canvas upon which the wounded are laid, proved a still more difficult task. They were beginning to despair when, seeing the old padrone crossing in front of them, Alec flew up and seized hold of him. “We want something to make a stretcher out of; something strong like bagging, or a mattress tick,” he told him, gesticulating at the same time with both hands in order to emphasize his words. “You show us where to find something; we carry the wounded men here from over there by the works.” The padrone looked puzzled at first; then as Bud quickly laid the two poles on the ground and threw himself prostrate between them, while Alec made out to take hold of the near ends, the other gave a cry as though it had dawned on his mind. He nodded his head and, darting into a shanty close by, came out bearing a tough-looking mattress. Drawing out a knife, he sliced down one end, and deliberately proceeded to empty the corn husks it had contained upon the ground. When the scouts found that the material though faded was still of considerable value, so far as strength was concerned, they proceeded to bind it to the poles. It required more or less ingenuity to accomplish this, for the strain would be very great, once they started to carry a man weighing at least a hundred and fifty pounds, but they had mastered much more serious problems than this, and in the end managed to secure the bed ticking to both poles in a secure though possibly clumsy fashion. Hardly had this been accomplished than they saw Hugh hurrying toward them. He had left Arthur to finish the work of caring for the wounded man, with Billy and Ralph to render any assistance required. “I’m anxious to get over there where the fight came off,” Hugh told the two, after he had taken a quick survey of their completed work, and apparently given it his approval. “Nobody seems to know just how many were shot down by that murderous fire of the guards. Some say five, and others hold up both hands, as if there were at least twice that many.” “Then you think some of the poor chaps may be lying there still, do you?” asked Alec, with a vein of real pity in his voice; for the sight of all that suffering had caused his heart to beat much more kindly for these poor foreigners. “I hope it’s a mistake,” replied Hugh, as they all hurried off. “In case there are any who have been hurt too badly to get away, you can see how they might continue to lie there until they bled to death. The guards behind the stockade are afraid to show themselves after doing what they did; and the strikers are just as much averse to going near the works, with those men waiting to pour in another awful volley at sight of them.” “Whew! I hope they won’t try that game on us,” said Bud Morgan, though for all that he did not lessen his pace a particle, because Bud did not know what fear was, to tell the truth. “Oh, there’s little danger of their being so badly rattled as that,” said Hugh. “I mean to call out and tell the one in command just how we happened to be near by, and felt it to be our duty to do all we could for the strikers who were hurt. It may, in the end, save some of those reckless guards from being tried for murder.” “Just what it might,” said Alec. “That man was shot in the back, which shows he was running away. Only a coward would fire on retreating men who were unarmed.” “Hold on, don’t say too much just now,” cautioned Hugh. “We’re getting near the stockade, you notice. And here’s a poor fellow trying to limp along, though he’s badly hurt in the leg.” The man saw them and looked worried as he clung to a tree waiting for them to reach him. Perhaps the white flag which Hugh again carried eased his mind somewhat, and when the boy spoke to him the tone of his voice was certainly reassuring. “You are hurt, I see,” said Hugh, pointing to the other’s left leg, which showed all the terrible signs of a serious wound; the poor fellow had managed to tie his red bandana handkerchief around the limb, and above the bullet wound, as though he may have served in the army at one time, and knew something about the use of a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. He must have understood what Hugh said, for he nodded his head. Then the scout waved him on, and pointed to the camp. “Go to camp and doctor look after you—understand, with medicine like this,” and he even opened his little kit to let the man glimpse its contents which might tell him more than words could convey. With signs and what words he could make use of, Hugh tried to find out from the injured striker whether there were others still on the battlefield who would be in need of rescue. Perhaps the man had a smattering knowledge of English, or else Hugh’s signs were wonderfully illuminating; at least he comprehended what the boy was trying to ask, for he pointed back, and then held up the fingers of both hands. The boys exchanged horrified looks. Hugh hoped there was some mistake on the part of the man. It would be a dreadful thing if they found the field covered with dead and wounded strikers; such a calamity had not been known in the state for many a long year, and the slaughter must create a wide sentiment in favor of arbitration in these unfortunate labor disputes. “Come on, boys! No matter what is waiting for us there, we must go on,” Hugh told his two chums who carried the homely but useful stretcher. “I can see the buildings of the cement works right ahead of us, Hugh!” exclaimed Alec, shortly after they had parted company with the limping striker who was trying his best to get back among his own people so that his wounds could be cared for. “Steady again, everybody!” said Hugh. “We must be careful not to do anything to make them fire on us. Of course they’re bound to see that we don’t belong to that crowd, and so I don’t think we run much danger, if we keep our heads, and they do the same.” As they drew near the stockade that had been built of heavy planks all around the works where labor troubles had possibly been of frequent occurrence, the boys could see that men were watching their approach, crouching on some sort of platform that gave them a chance to see over the barricade. “Oh! there are some of the strikers lying about here, for there’s a man right now, hugging his knees as though he might be suffering terribly!” declared Bud. “I see another—two, three of them!” burst out Alec, in a voice that trembled; “and, Hugh, what do you think, there’s a little child playing over there alongside—yes, it must be a woman. Oh! I wonder if the poor thing is dead, and the baby doesn’t know it?” “No, for I saw her raise her arm, then, to pull at the child,” said Hugh. “We must attend to her first of all. But while you’re heading that way I’ll go straight on a little, and try to get in touch with the party in command of the guards back of the stockade,” and waving his white flag, the scout master strode bravely forward. |
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