Burt L Standish

Frank Merriwell's Pursuit Burt L Standish

Rain had ceased to fall, but the night was intensely dark, with a raw, cold wind that penetrated to one's very bones. Shortly after nightfall three men crossed the east branch of the Ausable River and entered the little settlement of Keene. Of the three only one was mounted, and he sat swaying in the saddle, seeming to retain his position with great difficulty. The two men on foot walked on either side of the horse, helping to support the mounted man. At intervals they encouraged him with words. A few lights gleamed from the windows of Keene. Before a cottage door the trio halted, and one of the men on foot knocked on the door. A few moments later a man appeared with a lighted lamp in his right hand, shading his eyes with his left as he peered out into the darkness. "Who are you?" he gruffly asked, "and what do you want?" "We want a surgeon or a doctor as soon as we can find one," answered the man at the door. "One of our party has been wounded by accident, and we wish to have his wound dressed." "Another city sportsman shot for a deer, eh?" said the man in the doorway, with a touch of scorn in his voice. "It's the same old story." "Yes, the same old story," acknowledged the man at the door. "He may die from the wound if we do not find a doctor very soon." "There's no doctor nearer than Elizabethtown." "Is there none in this place?"