Chapter IV: A Slender Chance

Slim Tyler whirled about, curious to know what had so stirred his good friend.

Carl Stummel's glasses were pushed far up on his forehead. His hair stood up in bushy wisps about his head as though he had grasped it in some extremity of tragic emotion. His eyes were wild and he was panting heavily.

The German was not alone. By the hand he led a man whose girth was as generous as his own. There, however, the resemblance ended. The stranger had a scholarly, sensitive face with near-sighted eyes that peered uncertainly from steel-rimmed spectacles. He appeared not to see Slim until he was almost upon him.

"Dis iss Shlim Tyler," panted Carl to his companion. "Dere is nuddings he candt do alretty. He vill your leetle poy save. Shlim, dis iss Henry Traut."

The newcomer peered up at the tall young aviator. He clutched at Slim's sleeves.

"Ach, yes, I have heard of you," he said. "Can you once save my little boy, I will be your friend for life."

Slim was touched by the pleading in the father's eyes.

"I'll be glad to do anything I can," he said earnestly. "Where is your boy and what's wrong with him?"

Carl broke in to explain.

"Der leetle poy in an accident it iss dot he vos been alretty. He lif in Ernestville, fifty miles from here it iss. He must an oberation haf kevick. He--he----"

Carl was getting so excited that his friend took up the tale.

"My wife has phoned me," he said in husky accents, "that the doctor there says we must get Dr. Aaron Wills, the specialist who lives here, to perform the operation. I understand he is a wonderful surgeon. But he must come at once. Else my baby will die--my little boy, he is only six years old----"

His voice broke and he wrung his hands distractedly.

"Eef you der doctor could get und fly mit him to Ernestville, Shlim," Carl said pleadingly.

"I'll do it," promised Slim.

He made his way through the press of people toward the row of cars parked about the field.

He knew the famous specialist by sight, and remembered having seen him on the field only a few minutes before.

"It would be too good luck to find him there still," Slim thought to himself. "Just the same, it's possible."

When he reached the farther side of the field he caught a glimpse of the surgeon's car about to pull away to the road.

Slim began to run, his long legs covering the ground swiftly.

"Doctor Wills!" he called. "Doctor Wills! Wait a minute!"

The car was already rolling smoothly along the road and Slim's call was unheard.

Slim set his teeth and sprinted. His legs moved like pistons.

The heavy traffic of vehicles along the road decided the race in Slim's favor. He came up with the doctor's car and flung himself upon the running board.

Doctor Wills looked surprised. Perhaps he thought for a fleeting second that he was the victim of a hold-up.

He recognized the young aviator almost instantly, however, and drew up at the side of the road.

"What can I do for you, my boy?" he asked, a smile transforming features that in repose were serious, almost stern. "You scarcely look as though you needed the services of a doctor."

"Not yet, doctor," replied Slim. "Although it's a lucky fellow in my line of work who doesn't need the services of a surgeon to patch him up now and then."

He explained hurriedly the plight of Henry Traut and the six-year-old child, whose life the skill of Dr. Aaron Wills was depended on to save.

Doctor Wills listened intently, his face growing increasingly serious.

"Ernestville is more than fifty miles away," he observed. "If the child is as badly hurt as you say, we probably couldn't get there in time."

Slim smiled confidently.

"We could make it by plane," he declared.

"Ah!" the stern face relaxed again. Slim's youth and enthusiasm possessed a strong appeal for this man of many cares and ceaseless responsibilities. "I see."

He turned his car in the direction of the flying field.

"Get your plane ready," he said. "While you're doing it, I'll call up my office, tell them where I'm going, and leave directions concerning a few matters with my assistant."

They found Henry Traut where Slim had left him. Carl had been forced to go back to his hot dog stand, for on a day like this business was brisk.

Slim introduced the doctor, and the German grasped his hand convulsively.

"It is so good of you, doctor," he said tremulously. "Our little boy, he is all we have. If he should leave us, I too should die."

"I'll do my best," said the doctor, as he and Traut hastily got into the flying togs that Slim handed them.

A hasty word to Jerry from Slim had apprised him of the state of affairs and he had hauled out a speedy plane from the hangar so that in an incredibly short time everything was ready for the flight.

Carl Stummel rushed over again for a parting word with his friend. There were tears in the eyes of the good old fellow as he wrung Traut's hand.

"It vill be alles recht," Carl assured him. "You shoost leave it mit dot Shlim Tyler. He iss vun great poy. He vill get you dere in der jig dime yet."

Slim met the quizzical glance of the famous surgeon and grinned sheepishly.

"Mr. Stummel is an old friend of mine, Doctor," he said. "I'm afraid he has too much confidence in me."

"Any man may count himself fortunate to possess one friend with implicit confidence in his ability," said Dr. Wills gravely. "Besides, I think we're all inclined to share his confidence. Let's see now how quickly you can take us to Ernestville."

"Watch our smoke," said Slim, as he motioned to one of the mechanics to turn the propeller.

The engines sang their song of speed as the plane rushed down the runway and darted upward into the air.

Higher and higher it rose until it was at an elevation of about a thousand feet. Then Slim brought it to an even keel and set its nose in the direction of Ernestville, fifty miles away.

Before Slim's mind rose the vision of a six-year-old child, inert, helpless, dependent for life itself on the speed of the plane and the skill of the surgeon.

"A race with death perhaps," Slim muttered to himself. "But I have a feeling that we'll win."

He gave the plane full throttle and clove the air like a comet. He was racing not for a money prize, not for glory or reputation, but for a life.

He covered the fifty miles in something less than twenty minutes, and came down on a small flying field in the outskirts of Ernestville.

There, through a previous arrangement made over the telephone by Jerry Marbury before the take-off, a car was waiting.

Into this hurried Dr. Wills, followed by Henry Traut and by Slim himself, who had lingered behind just for a moment to give a few directions regarding the plane.

"To my house, quick!" urged Traut.

"No, to the hospital," directed the doctor. "I talked to your doctor before we left North Elmwood and he arranged for the transfer. With the facilities there, a successful outcome to the operation is far more probable than if it were performed at your home. Set your mind at rest. Everything will be done for your child that it is possible to do."

"Ach, Gott!" murmured the stricken father. "I pray that it will be enough."

The car stopped at the hospital, and the doctor hurried up the steps. Henry Traut kept beside him, his fingers twining and intertwining in agonized helplessness.

Slim Tyler brought up the rear, increasingly conscious of being an outsider, yet unwilling to desert the party until he had learned more concerning the fate of the little lad.

Inside the hospital they were greeted by the clean antiseptic odor common to all such institutions.

The great surgeon was met by the nurse in charge, who summoned the head of the hospital, who in turn offered all the facilities of his domain to his distinguished colleague.

Doctor Wills gave a crisp direction and turned toward the stairs. It was evident that he had completely forgotten both the father of his "case" and Slim Tyler, who had been chiefly responsible for bringing him there.

Henry Traut, however, was not willing to be ignored. He followed the surgeon and plucked nervously at his sleeve.

"My boy, I can see him, yes?"

Without pausing in his swift stride, Doctor Wills said over his shoulder:

"Better wait in the reception room with young Tyler. I'll have word sent to you as soon as you can see the boy."

With this small comfort the distracted father was forced to content himself. He walked irresolutely into the waiting room and paced up and down, up and down, his hands behind his back, his glazed stare fixed, his mouth set in a line of pain.

Slim watched him uncomfortably for a few minutes, wondering if he should try to say something comforting, but finally deciding against it.

"How can I say anything consoling when his poor little kid may be dying this minute for all I know? I doubt if he'd even hear me. He has his ears strained for some sound from upstairs."

He turned restlessly to the window and tried to interest his thoughts by the sights of the street.

"The worst fix I ever was in," he muttered to himself. "Who'd think I'd get so cut up about some one else's kid? Wonder what they're doing to the poor little beggar, anyhow."

As though in answer to his question, a soft-footed nurse entered.

"Mr. Traut," she said, "I have come from Doctor Wills. He says that you can see your little boy."

Henry Traut paused in his restless pacing. He regarded the nurse, his face working. He peered at her and gripped her arm with imploring fingers.

"My little boy--my little son," he whispered. "Tell me--will he live?"

The nurse nodded, a smile on her face.

"Doctor Wills says that he is out of danger."

Henry Traut sat down with great suddenness. Slim had the impression that his legs had given out under him. Traut felt in his pocket and drew out a handkerchief, which he applied to his eyes.

"Lieber Gott!" he murmured, "I give thanks."

Slim felt an unaccustomed emotion swelling up in him and turned sharply to the window. He remained there until he was conscious of a presence near him and turned to find the white-garbed nurse beside him.

"Are you Mr. Tyler?" she asked.

Slim admitted his identity.

"I brought Doctor Wills and Mr. Traut here in a plane," he added awkwardly. "I haven't really any business here, but I thought I'd sort of like to hang around until I found out how the little codger was getting along. I--I guess I'll be going now."

"I guess you'll do nothing of the kind," said the nurse smilingly. "Not if I have anything to say about it--or Doctor Wills. You see the little Traut boy has been asking for you--seems he's seen your picture in the papers and heard a lot about your flying--and he won't take no for an answer."

"How does he know I'm here?" asked Slim.

"He heard Doctor Wills speak of you to Doctor Morton the anæsthetist. He must have understood then that you were still downstairs, for you were the first one he asked for when he came out of the ether. You're quite a hero to the little boy, Mr. Tyler."

Slim fidgeted uncomfortably, wondering whether the nurse was laughing at him.

He was ashamed of the suspicion a moment later when very seriously and gently she placed her hand upon his arm.

"You undoubtedly saved the little fellow's life, Mr. Tyler. I heard Doctor Wills say that if he had been half an hour later, he could have done nothing. If you can carry your kindness a little further and come up to see the boy just for a moment. It will keep him from fretting and----"

"I'll be glad to," said Slim promptly. "I'm glad to do anything I can."

The nurse said nothing further, but led the way from the room.

Mr. Traut had already been taken to the room in which his boy lay.

Slim had never been in a hospital before, except on the one occasion when he had visited High Hat Frank. The smell of antiseptics and the rows of narrow beds all had a depressing effect upon him.

"Might as well get used to it, though," he thought. "Here's where I'll come--or to a place like this--after my first crack-up. All the fellows do, sooner or later."

The nurse led him to a room at the far end of the corridor. On the bed lay a little lad, a lad so white and thin that the dark eyes gazing up at Slim seemed enormous in the small face.

Henry Traut had been sitting beside the bed, the child's small hand in his.

Now, at a sign from the nurse, he rose as though to quit the room. He bent over the small figure and the child reached up and patted his face.

As the father retired reluctantly, Slim took his place beside the bed.

"Only a word or two," the nurse whispered. "Then you must go."

The child reached out a brown little hand, and Slim took it with a strange sensation of tenderness. He felt as he had in the waiting room below, a bit choky in the throat.

"You're big flying man," murmured the child. "I saw your picture. You go up in the sky. I like you."

"That's good," said Slim clearing his throat. "I like you, too. And now you're going to hurry up and get well and pretty soon you'll be playing around again."

The little face flushed and the lips moved. Slim bent closer to catch the whisper.

"Will you come again?"

"Sure thing," promised Slim. "When I come again I'll bring you a toy airplane and show you how to fly it."

Slim felt a touch on his arm. It was the nurse.

"Time's up," she whispered.

With difficulty Slim released his hand from the little fellow's grasp. Tears started to the child's eyes, but the nurse soothed him.

Outside in the corridor, it seemed to Slim that he could still feel the pressure of the small fingers. He wanted to go back and reassure him, tell him there was nothing to be frightened about. Gee, it was tough to be flat on your back with all sorts of pains and aches inside of you when you were only six years old!

Doctor Wills emerged from a room where he had been washing after the operation.

"I hear it's all right, Doctor," said Slim.

"Yes," replied the great surgeon. "But it wouldn't have been if you hadn't whisked me here as swiftly as you did. A little while longer and the child would have been beyond help. You've done a good day's work, my boy."

"I'm glad," said Slim simply. "I'll take you back when you're ready, Doctor."

"Thanks," said the doctor. "But I'm going to stay here a few hours to watch developments. I'll have my man bring the car over."

"You surely are not going home to-night, Mr. Tyler," put in Henry Traut. "You must be my guest. My wife would never forgive me if I did not bring you to her so that she can thank you. You must come."

There was really no reason for refusing, and Slim Tyler accompanied his host to the Traut home, where Mrs. Traut, who had been in a state of nervous collapse and was under the care of a trained nurse, received him with joy and gratitude that were beyond all words. They were so insistent on his staying that nearly a week elapsed before they would let him go. Slim yielded the more readily because of his growing attachment to the little fellow, whom he visited daily and who in turn fairly worshipped his deliverer.

The child grew stronger rapidly, and the nurse declared that Slim's visits helped the little lad more than all the medicines.

At last Slim Tyler had to tear himself away. To him who had had so little of home life it was a wrench to go from these kindly people. Yet it was with a thrill of elation that he mounted into the cockpit and felt once more the stick in his hand.

When, after his return flight, he came down on the North Elmwood flying field, Jerry Marbury detached himself from a group and hurried over to him.

"You old stick-in-the-mud!" he called, "where have you been all this time?"

"Didn't Dave Boyd tell you?" asked Slim, in some surprise. "I phoned to him and asked him to pass the word along."

"Dave has been so busy that he's hardly had time to breathe," replied Jerry, "and thereby hangs a tale. Slim, old scout, you and I are out of luck."