They descended hurriedly and laid the girl on the grass, where her agony continued increasingly. Schley and Troutman were whispering apart. The other girl, hysterically bending over her companion, mopped her face with a useless handkerchief, crying: "She's got a fit; she's got a fit!" "I say it's appendicitis or gripes," said Troutman, coming over to Stover. His face was colorless, and he spoke the words nervously. "The deuce of a fix Chris has got us into!" "Come, we've got to get her back," said Stover, realizing the gravity of the situation. He went abruptly to the girl and spoke with quick authority. "Now stop crying; I want you to get hold of yourself. Here Schley, lend a hand; you and Troutman get her back into the carriage. Do it quickly." "What are you going to do?" said Troutman, under his breath. "Drive her to a doctor, of course." "Couldn't we go and fetch a doctor here?" "No, we couldn't!" With some difficulty they got the suffering girl into the carriage and started back. No one spoke; the banter had given place to a few muttered words that broke the moaning, delirious tones of the stricken girl. "Going to drive into New Haven this way?" said Troutman, for the second time under his breath. "Sure." "Hell!" They came to the city streets, and Stover drove on hastily, seeking from right to left for a doctor. All at once he drew up at the curb, flung the reins to Troutman, and rushed into a house where he had seen a sign displayed--"Dr. Burke." He was back almost immediately with the doctor at his heels. "I say, Dink, look here," said Schley, plucking him aside, as the doctor hurriedly examined the girl. "This is a deuce of a mess." "You bet it is," said Stover, thinking of the sufferer. "I say, if this gets out it'll be a nasty business." "What do you mean?" "If we're seen driving back with--well, with this bunch!" "What do you propose?" said Stover sharply. Troutman joined them. "See here, leave her with the doctor, I'll put up all the money that's necessary, the doctor'll keep a close mouth! Man alive, you can't go back this way!" "Why not?" "Good Lord, it'll queer us,--we'll never get over it." "Think of the papers," said Schley, plucking at his glove. "We can fix it up with the doctor." At this moment Dr. Burke joined them, quiet, business-like, anxious. "She has all the symptoms of a bad attack of appendicitis. There's only one thing to do; get her to the hospital at once. I'll get my hat and join you." "Drive to--drive to the hospital?" said Troutman, with a gasp, "right through the whole city, right in the face of every one?" "Don't be a fool, Dink," said Schley nervously. "We'll fix up Burke; we'll give him a hundred to take her and shut up." Stover, too, saw the danger and the inevitable scandal. He saw, also, that they were no longer men as he had thought. The thin veneer had disappeared--they were boys, terrified, aghast at a crisis beyond their strength.