Roy Norton

“ If he had been pointed out to you in some wayside tavern of the wild, the man who did it would have whispered his name reverentially, with some crude apology for his deference, as befits free men of the mountains when admitting that before them stands a superior. It might go something like this in that free speech of the forest:
“That's Doc Harvey, him as saved my wife; who told the president of the powder works to his teeth that he'd been careless of his men when the old Number Seven magazine went up; who cries when he fights, but is unafraid; who cries when somebody's baby dies ”

“ A slow, stumbling noise would become more clearly audible, and from your position at the side of the trail where vine and thicket joined you would see a shape loom up against the stars above you, a shape of man and horse, the former huddled over with folded arms and bent head. ”

“ The doctor pulled up his coat collar, grumbled because the tired Gray Dick would have to carry two men eight miles, and growled, “Come on!”
“But that man Butcher, he called first,” the landlord said, still thinking of the hundred that one would pay compared to what the other could pay.
“If he calls again, tell him I'm out for all night.”
“But—”
“There's no 'but' about it! He'll have to wait.” He slammed the door behind him, and as he led the way muttered, “A rich man can hire or fire a doctor, or get a new one when he wants to: but a poor man can't. ”

“ He slapped big Casey, the woodcutter, for speaking ill of the dominie, told him he was the scum of the earth, and within the week nursed the same Casey like a woman when a falling tree malevolently crushed his leg. That he should champion the dominie was not, most of us in the hills believed, a confession of religious tendency, but rather a declaration of faith in the preacher as a man. Indeed, no one knew whether Dr. Harvey possessed any other religion than that of his own broad humanity, until that Christmas Eve of—well, never mind the year ”

“ THE man who was unafraid would take a new semblance to your critical eyes, and you would stare at him as he stood there in the half-lighted taproom giving instructions to the stable boy and watching the landlord dip the hot poker into the steaming ale. ”

“ He might have gone to look for him if just then the door hadn't opened admitting the one he sought.
The innkeeper hurried to tell Harvey that the millionaire wanted him, knowing that old Butcher always paid a hundred dollars a visit, and that is considerable money in our part of the world. Besides, he knew that our doctor most always needed it. The quiet man came forward before Harvey could say anything.
“Doctor,” he said, “I don't like to be ahead of other folks' sufferings: but but—well, you see, it's my boy. ”

“ Harvey an automobile, so he could come faster when he was called.
There are several men still living in the mountains who can remember how Dr. Harvey looked that day when Butcher's chauffeur got him into the machine out in front of the tavern and showed him how to run it. The school teacher down at the corners let school out a half-hour earlier so the children could see the sport. The machine ran up and down the road, till at last Harvey mastered it and all the chauffeur did was to sit there with his arms folded. He was considerably more dignified than the doctor. ”

“ Harvey! Think of that! “A great man!” Moreover, this millionaire should have known that, being a doctor himself. We used to wonder why he didn't take his own medicine, because he made his money out of “Doctor Butcher's Perfect Panacea.” It was pretty good stuff. We tried a bottle when Billy had the cholera; but it didn't work so well for cholera as it did for strains and bruises. Anyway, this man Butcher began to employ our doctor, and got so well that he became liberal. ”

“ The man with the lantern leaned against the bar, putting a hand on the rail. “When will he be back?”
The innkeeper paused long enough to look up at him, and saw that he was in trouble. He replied, a trifle kindlier than was his wont. “Can't tell. Might be a minute, might be an hour. Old Doc Butcher has been 'phonin' down here every fifteen minutes for a long time now. They want him up there pretty bad, I reckon.” ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1942, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 81 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”