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Medical Law John Devereux Digital Instant Download
Author(s): John Devereux, Rachael Moore
ISBN(s): 9781876213145, 1876213140
Edition: Kindle
File Details: PDF, 2.23 MB
Year: 2002
Language: english
MEDICAL LAW
Second Edition
CP
Cavendish
Cavendish
Publishing
Publishing
(Australia)
Limited
Pty Limited
Sydney•London
MEDICAL LAW
Second Edition
CP
Cavendish
Publishing
(Australia)
Pty Limited
Sydney•London
Second edition first published 2002 by Cavendish Publishing (Australia) Pty
Limited, 3/303 Barrenjoey Road, Newport, New South Wales 2106
Telephone: (02) 9999 2777 Facsimile: (02) 9999 3688
Email: info@cavendishpublishing.com.au
© Devereux, J 2002
First edition 1997
Second edition 2002
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth),
no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic or mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright
owner.
Any person who infringes the above in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Devereux, John
Medical law – 2nd edition – Bibliography – Includes index
1 Medical laws and legislation – Australia 2 Medical laws and legislation –
Australia – Cases
I Title
344.94041
ISBN 1 876213 14 0
v
Medical Law
John Devereux
31 March 2002
vi
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
vii
Medical Law
viii
CONTENTS
Preface v
Acknowledgments vii
Table of Cases xiii
Table of Legislation xxiii
ix
Medical Law
7 TRANSPLANTS 421
PART I: TRANSPLANTS IN AUSTRALIA 421
PART II: INTER VIVOS TRANSPLANTS 424
PART III: CAN A PERSON BE SAID TO OWN HIS OR
HER BODILY PARTS? 427
PART IV: TRANSPLANT LEGISLATION 431
x
Contents
8 COMPLAINTS 445
PART I: COMPLAINTS SCHEMES 445
New South Wales 447
Victoria 448
Queensland 449
Australian Capital Territory 462
South Australia 462
Tasmania 462
Northern Territory 463
Western Australia 463
PART II: DISCIPLINARY PROCEEDINGS 474
Index 481
xi
TABLE OF CASES
xiii
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xiv
Table of Cases
Ellis v Wallsend District Hospital (1989) 17 NSWLR 553 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59, 139, 186, 221
Empire, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
Environment Agency (formerly National Rivers
Authority) v Empress Car Co (Abertillery) Ltd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238, 251, 256
Esanda Finance Corporation Ltd v Peat Marwick
Hungerford (1997) 188 CLR 241 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Evans v Liverpool Corporation [1906] 1 KB 160 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
Exchange Telegraph Company Ltd
v Central News Ltd [1897] 2 Ch 48 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340
Exchange Telegraph Company Ltd
v Gregory and Co [1896] 1 QB 147 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340
xv
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Geissman v O’Keefe and Another (1994) unreported, NSW . . . . . . . . . 140, 146, 153, 224
General Practitioners Society of Australia
v Commonwealth (1980) 145 CLR 532 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Gillick v West Norfolk Area Health Authority
[1986] 1 AC 112. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87, 88, 94–98, 274
Giurelli v Girgis (1980) 24 SASR 264 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141, 175
Gloning v Miller [1954] 1 DLR 372. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
Goodwill v British Pregnancy Advisory Service
[1996] 2 All ER 161 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
Gover v State for South Australia and Perriam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216
Greaves & Co (Contractors) Ltd
v Baynham Meikle & Partners [1975] 1 WLR 1095 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49, 50
xvi
Table of Cases
xvii
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xviii
Table of Cases
xix
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R v D [1984] AC 778 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
R v Davidson (1969) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274, 275, 280, 282, 284–86
R v Department of Health ex p Source Informatics Ltd
[1999] 4 All ER 185 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
R v Donovan [1934] 2 KB 498 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 388
R v Flattery (1877) 2 QB 410. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76, 77
R v Harms [1944] 2 DLR 61 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73–75
R v Howard [1966] 1 WLR 13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
R v Howes (1860) 3 E & E 332 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
R v Instan [1893] 1 QB 453 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
R v Lambert [1919] VLR 205 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76, 77
R v Lang (1975) 62 Cr App R 50 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
R v Maurantonia [1968] 1 OR 145. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
R v Mid-Glamorgan Family Health Services
ex p Martin [1995] 1 WLR 110 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356
R v Mobilio [1991] 1 VR 339 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
R v Morgan [1970] VR 337 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75, 77–79
R v Roden (1981) 4 A Crim R 166 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
R v Rosinski (1824) 1 Lew CC 11; [1824] 168 ER 941. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67, 75
R v Wald (1971) 3 NSWDCR 25 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275, 286–88
R v Williams [1923] 1 KB 340 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62, 67, 77
Rance v Mid-Downs Health Authority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
Randolph v City of New York (1984) unreported. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Rank Hovis McDougall’s Application
(1974) 46 Australian Official Journal of Patents,
Trade Marks and Designs 3915 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 429
Read v J Lyons & Co Ltd [1947] AC 156 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288
Reibl v Hughes (1978) 89 DLR (3d) 112;
(1980) 114 DLR (3d); [1980] 2 SCR 880 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58, 63, 104, 203, 206, 391
Reisner v Regents of the University of California
37 Cal Rptr 2d 518 (1995) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
Rice v Connolly [1966] 2 QB 414. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341
Roe v Minister of Health [1954] 2 QB 66 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113, 115
Rogers v Whitaker (1992) 175 CLR 479 . . . . . . . . . 59, 84, 111, 112, 132, 148, 174, 177, 178,
188, 193, 199, 200, 204, 205, 210, 211,
213–16, 219–25, 236–38, 241, 244,
251, 254, 280, 301, 359, 451, 454
Rosenberg v Percival [2001] HCA 18. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204, 218
Ross v McCarthy (1955) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283, 285
xx
Table of Cases
xxi
Medical Law
xxii
TABLE OF LEGISLATION
xxiii
Medical Law
States (Tax Sharing and Health Medical Practice Act 1992. . . . . . . . . . . 335
Grants) Act 1981 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Medical Practitioners
Act 1938 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
s 1. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269
Trade Practices Act 1974. . . . . 41, 262, 459
s 27(2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117, 118
New South Wales Minors (Property and Contracts)
Act 1970—
Administrative Decisions Tribunal s 49. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87, 99, 100
Act 1997 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 s 49(1), (2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
s 49(3), (4) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
xxiv
Table of Legislation
xxv
Medical Law
xxvi
Table of Legislation
xxvii
Medical Law
xxviii
Table of Legislation
xxix
Medical Law
Judicature Acts 1873–75 . . . . . . . . . . . . 427 Road Traffic Act 1972 . . . . . . . . . . 351, 352
s 168. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 350
s 168(2)(b) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351, 352
Medical Act 1983—
s 35. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344 United States of America
Mental Health Act 1983—
s 2. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 Californian Penal Code. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
s 3. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 Constitution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
s 76. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344
xxx
CHAPTER 1
1
Medical Law
2
Principles of Medical Law
PART I: BIOETHICS
There would be no moral dilemmas if moral principles worked in straight lines
and never crossed each other [Tom Stoppard in Professional Foul].
It would not be correct to say that every moral obligation involves a legal duty; but
every legal duty is founded on a moral obligation [R v Instan [1893] 1 QB 453].
Generations of authors have expressed different opinions concerning the
underlying philosophical bases of Western medical practice. Justice, non-
maleficence (‘do no harm’), beneficence and autonomy all have featured. Two
principles consistently are referred to. These are the principles of autonomy and
beneficence.
Autonomy
Subsequent chapters of this book will be devoted to the patient’s right to choose
to have (or not to have) certain health care treatments. In law, this is referred to
as ‘the doctrine of consent’. Underpinning this doctrine is a respect for an
individual patient’s autonomy. Understanding autonomy is thus critical to
understanding the realm of health care decision making.
Autonomy adopts several guises. Beauchamp, TL and Childress, JF, in their
seminal work Principles of Biomedical Ethics, 5th edn, 2001, New York: Oxford
University Press, note that the term may refer to a person him or herself, a
person’s will or a person’s actions in society. There are two classical notions of
autonomy which deserve mention, those views on autonomy expressed by
Immanuel Kant and John Stuart Mill. Kantian and Millean notions of autonomy
are important because they not only explain what autonomy is, but why people
should respect each others’ autonomy. It should be noted at the outset that the
writings of Immanuel Kant are very complex. Books have been written on the
differing interpretations of Kant. In reading the extracts below, keep in mind the
dominant thesis of Kant’s reasoning – that every person is an end in herself and
deserves to be treated as an end in herself. Every person is to be treated as a
separate person, able to govern herself.
3
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4
Principles of Medical Law
only where the limitations were to prevent one person’s freedom impinging upon
another’s. Consistent with Mill’s utilitarian ‘bent’, it was felt that allowing every
person the freedom to pursue own goals would maximise the benefits of all. This
was due to the fact that:
Conformity to established patterns reduces individual productivity and
creativity that, if developed, could benefit society [Beauchamp and Childress,
above, pp 60, 61].
Thus, Mill argued that:
Europe is in my judgment wholly indebted to the plurality of paths for its
progressive and many-sided development.
To Mill, the autonomous individual was the person with ‘true character’. The
person without character was controlled by influences such as family, State or
church.
‘Autonomy may thus be thought of as freedom of actions or will. The concept of
autonomy is only worthwhile to the extent that people respect one another’s
autonomy. In some respects, this respect flows implicitly from the idea that there
are separate persons. Thus, to acknowledge another is to acknowledge the
possibility of other centres of choice and intention.’ If an individual is perceived as
a self-governing moral agent, it follows as a matter of logic that no interference
with physical integrity may be tolerated without his permission.
It is in the health arena that the idea of autonomy becomes crucial. Health by
definition means freedom from mental and physical sickness. More importantly,
good health allows an individual to plan his present and future affairs. Achieving
full health or making the best of poor health, can therefore, have flow-on effects in
respect of other areas of a person’s plans. Not surprisingly then, it has been noted
that:
… given the importance of health to individuals, it is of central importance to
them that they have the capacity and the opportunity for choice in respect of
medical intervention [McLean, SAM, ‘The right to consent to medical
treatment’, in Campbell, T, Goldberg, D, McLean, SAM and Mullen, T (eds),
Human Rights: From Rhetoric to Reality, 1986, 148 at p 149, Oxford: Blackwell].
Beneficence
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6
Principles of Medical Law
with all the signs of anxiety and concern in the patient and assistants would
have a great effect upon my mind and excite the strongest sentiments of pity
and terror.
Sympathy manifested itself through various virtues and obligations, such as telling
the truth to a terminally ill patient and keeping a patient’s confidences.
Gregory’s theory, like Hippocrates’, rests on a moral view of medicine but is able,
using the medium of sympathy, to generate specific instances of beneficence.
(iii) Beauchamp and McCulloch – a modern formulation
Drawing upon writings (including those of Gregory and Hippocrates),
Beauchamp, TL and McCulloch, LB in their work Medical Ethics: The Moral
Responsibility of Physicians, 1984, Prentice Hall, Englewood Cliffs, at p 18 have
formulated a list of goods to be striven for and harms to be avoided.
GOODS HARMS
Health Illness
Prevention, elimination or control of disease and injury Disease
Relief from unnecessary pain and suffering Unnecessary pain or suffering
Amelioration of handicapping conditions Handicapping conditions
Prolonged life Premature death
How useful are Beauchamp and McCulloch’s list of goods versus harms?
Would all doctors in Australia agree that prolonging the life of someone who
is terminally ill and in great pain be something that ‘should be striven for’?
It is possible that the notions of autonomy and beneficence can co-exist. Thus, a
patient may present at a surgery, have a diagnosis of illness suggested by a
doctor and exercise an autonomous choice to have that doctor treat her. The
doctor may exercise her clinical skills to try to ensure the wellbeing of the patient
(in accordance with the principles of beneficence).
Problems may arise, however, if the patient, in exercising her autonomy,
declines treatment and the doctor feels (in accordance with beneficence) that
treatment should be given.
Which principle should be the dominant one?
Generally speaking, where the patient is of full age and mentally competent
to agree or refuse treatment, the patient’s interest in having his or her autonomy
respected is paramount.
Examine the Australian Medical Association’s Code of Ethics reprinted
below. Determine which paragraphs are a reflection of respect for patient
autonomy, and which are reflections of the desire to ensure the best possible
medical outcome (beneficence). If there are other values being enunciated, try to
enumerate them.
7
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8
Principles of Medical Law
(f) Protect the right of doctors to prescribe, and any patient to receive, any
new treatment, the demonstrated safety and efficacy of which offer
hope of saving life, re-establishing health or alleviating suffering. In all
such cases, fully inform the patient about the treatment, including the
new or unorthodox nature of the treatment, where applicable.
(g) Upon request by your patient, make available to another doctor a
report of your findings and treatment.
(h) Continue to provide services for an acutely ill patient until your
services are no longer required, or until the services of another suitably
qualified doctor have been obtained.
(i) When a personal moral judgment or religious belief alone prevents you
from recommending some form of therapy, inform your patient so that
they may seek care elsewhere.
(j) Recognise that an established relationship between doctor and patient
has a value, which you should not undermine.
(k) In non-emergency situations, where you lack the necessary knowledge,
skill, or facilities to provide care for a patient, you have an ethical
obligation to refer that patient on to a professional colleague.
(l) Be responsible when placing an appropriate value on your services, and
consider the time, skill, experience and any special circumstances
involved in the performance of that service, when determining any fee.
(m)Where possible, ensure that your patient is aware of your fees. Be
prepared to discuss fees with your patient.
(n) Do not refer patients to institutions or services in which you have a
financial interest, without full disclosure of such interest.
1.4 Clinical research
(a) Where possible, accept a responsibility to advance medical progress by
participating in properly developed research involving human subjects.
(b) Before participating in such research, ensure that responsible
independent committees appraise the scientific merit and the ethical
implications of the research.
(c) Recognise that the wellbeing of the subjects takes precedence over the
interests of science or society.
(d) Ensure that all research subjects or their agents have been fully
informed and have consented to participate in the study.
(e) Inform treating doctors of the involvement of their patients in any
research project, the nature of the project and its ethical basis.
(f) Recognise that the subjects have a right to withdraw from a study at
any time.
(g) Do not allow a patient’s refusal, at any stage, to participate in a study,
to interfere with the doctor-patient relationship or to compromise
appropriate treatment and care.
(h) Ensure that research results are first communicated to appropriate peer
groups so that a balanced view can be obtained before communication
to the public.
9
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Principles of Medical Law
2.2 Contracts
(a) Do not enter into any contract with a colleague or organisation which
may diminish the maintenance of your patient’s autonomy, or your
own or your colleagues’ professional integrity.
2.3 Advertising
(a) Do not advertise professional services or make professional
announcements unless the chief purpose of the notice is to present
information reasonably needed by any patient or colleague to make an
informed decision about the appropriateness and availability of your
medical services.
(b) Ensure that any announcement or advertisement directed towards
patients or colleagues is demonstrably true in all respects, does not
contain any testimonial or endorsement of your clinical skills and is not
likely to bring the profession into disrepute.
(c) Avoid public endorsement of any particular commercial product or
service.
(d) Ensure that any therapeutic or diagnostic advance is described and
examined through professional channels, and, if proven beneficial, is
made available to the profession at large.
2.4 Referral to colleagues
(a) Obtain the opinion of any appropriate colleague acceptable to your
patient if diagnosis or treatment is difficult or obscure, or in response to
a reasonable request by your patient.
(b) When referring patients, make available to your colleagues all relevant
information and indicate whether or not they are to assume the
continuing care of your patients during their illness.
(c) When an opinion has been requested by a colleague, report in detail
your findings and recommendations to that doctor.
(d) Should a consultant or specialist find a condition which requires
referral of the patient to a specialist or consultant in another field, the
referral should, where possible, be made following discussion with the
patient’s general practitioner.
3 The doctor and society
(a) Strive to improve the standards and quality of medical services in the
community.
(b) Accept a share of the profession’s responsibility to society in matters
relating to the health and safety of the public, health education and
legislation affecting the health or wellbeing of the community.
(c) Use your special knowledge and skills to consider issues of resource
allocation, but remember that your primary duty is to provide your
patient with the best available care.
(d) The only facts contained in a medical certificate should be those which
you can personally verify.
(e) When giving evidence, recognise your responsibility to assist the court
in arriving at a just decision.
11
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Principles of Medical Law
Value Statement 3
Nurses promote and uphold the provision of quality nursing care for all people.
EXPLANATORY STATEMENTS
1 Quality nursing care includes competent care provided by appropriately
qualified individuals.
2 Promotion of quality nursing care includes valuing continuing education as a
means of maintaining and increasing knowledge and skills. Continuing
education refers to all formal and informal opportunities for education.
3 Standards of care are one measure of quality. Nurses implement procedures to
evaluate nursing practice in order to raise standards of care, and to ensure that
such standards are ethically defensible.
4 Research is necessary to the development of the profession of nursing.
Research should be conducted in a manner that is ethically defensible.
Value Statement 4
Nurses hold in confidence any information obtained in a professional capacity, and
use professional judgment in sharing such information.
EXPLANATORY STATEMENTS
1 The nurse respects persons’ rights to determine who will be provided with
their personal information and in what detail. Exceptions may be necessary in
circumstances where the life of the person or of other persons may be placed in
danger if information is not disclosed.
2 When personal information is required for teaching, research or quality
assurance procedures, care must be taken to protect the person’s anonymity
and privacy. Consent must always be obtained.
3 Nurses protect persons in their care against inadvertent breaches of privacy by
confining their verbal communications to appropriate personnel and settings,
and to professional purposes.
4 Nurses have a moral obligation to adhere to practices which limit access to
personal records (whether written or computerised) to appropriate personnel.
Value Statement 5
Nurses respect the accountability and responsibility inherent in their roles.
EXPLANATORY STATEMENTS
1 As morally independent agents, nurses have moral obligations in the provision
of nursing care.
2 Nurses participate with other health care providers in the provision of
comprehensive health care, recognising the perspective and expertise of each
team member.
3 Nurses may have personal values which may cause them to experience moral
distress in relation to participating in certain procedures. Nurses have a moral
right to refuse to participate in procedures which would violate their reasoned
moral conscience (that is, they are entitled to conscientious objection).
Value Statement 6
Nurses value the promotion of an ecological, social and economic environment
which supports and sustains health and wellbeing.
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Medical Law
EXPLANATORY STATEMENTS
1 Nursing includes involvement in the detection of ill effects of the environment
on the health of persons, the ill effects of human activities on the natural
environment, and assisting communities in their actions on environmental
health problems aimed at minimising these effects.
2 Nurses value participation in the development, implementation and
monitoring of policies and procedures which promote safe and efficient use of
resources.
3 Nurses acknowledge that the social environment in which persons reside has
an impact on their health, and in collaboration with other health professionals
and consumers, initiate and support action to meet the health and social needs
of the public.
Special ethical considerations apply in respect of research involving humans:
see generally NHMRC National Statement on Ethical Conduct in Research
Involving Humans.
14
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
CHAPTER XIV.
ALLAN MAKES A DISCOVERY
During all this time, Allan had been taking his trick of track-
walking with the other men on Section Twenty-one. Jack had
arranged it so that the boy’s trip over the road was made in the
early morning, from four o’clock to seven, when, in his opinion, there
was the minimum of danger. For Jack still feared Dan Nolan,
although that rascal had not been seen in the neighbourhood for
months. But Jack had an uneasy feeling that Nolan was still plotting
mischief, that he was still watching his opportunity to do Allan an
injury.
The boy himself, confident in his growing manhood, laughed at
these fears.
“Nolan has cleared out for good,” he said to Jack. “He’s gone
somewhere where he’s not known, and has got another job. We’ll
never see him again.”
But Jack shook his head stubbornly.
“I know better,” he said. “Mebbe he’s gone away for awhile, but
he’ll come back ag’in, an’, if he ever gits a good chance t’ hit y’ from
behind, he’ll take it. I’ve got a sort of idee that Nolan’s at th’ bottom
of most of th’ devilment that’s been goin’ on on this here road. Th’
tramps would ’a’ cleared out long ago if there hadn’t been somebody
back of them urgin’ ’em on.”
“Oh, come, Jack,” protested Allan, “you’ve let that idea get such a
hold on you that you can’t shake it off.”
“Anyway,” said Jack, “I want you t’ keep your eyes about you
when you’re out there by yourself. An’ you’re t’ carry that club I
made fer you, an’ t’ use it, too, if Nolan ever comes near enough for
you t’ git a good lick at him.”
Allan laughed again, but he carried the club with him,
nevertheless, more to quiet Jack’s fears and Mary’s than because he
thought he would ever need it. Jack had gone down to the carpenter
shop the first day the order to patrol the track was posted, and had
selected a piece of seasoned hickory, which he had fashioned into an
effective weapon. Most of the other section-men were similarly
armed, and were prepared to meet force with force.
But Jack’s fears were to be verified in an unexpected way a few
days later. One of the detectives employed by the road had
succeeded in disguising himself as a tramp so effectively that he was
admitted to their councils, and one night a force of men was
gathered at headquarters for an expedition of which none of them
knew the destination. It happened to be Jack’s trick, and, when he
reported for duty, the train-master called him to one side.
“Welsh,” he said, “we’re going on a little expedition to-night which
promises some fun. I thought maybe you’d like that boy of yours to
go along,—you seem to want to get him in on everything going.”
“What is it, Mister Schofield?” Jack asked. “Anything dangerous?”
“No,” answered the train-master, “I don’t think there’ll be any real
danger, but there may be some excitement. I want you to go and
you’d better bring the boy.”
“All right, sir,” said Jack, resolving, however, to keep the boy close
to himself.
A caller was sent after Allan, who appeared at the end of a few
minutes, his eyes big with excitement.
“What is it?” he asked, as he saw the men grouped together,
talking in low tones. “Another wreck?”
“No,” said Jack; “it ain’t a wreck. I don’t know what it is. It’s got
something t’ do with th’ tramps, I think. Mebbe you’d better not go.”
“Of course I’ll go,” protested the boy. “I wouldn’t miss it for
anything.”
A moment later the men, of whom there were twenty, were
divided into parties of four each, and each man was given a short,
stout policeman’s club loaded with lead at the end.
“Now, boys,” said the train-master, after the clubs had been
distributed, “I want you to remember that it’s an easy thing to kill a
man with one of those clubs, so don’t strike too hard if we get into a
row. Only, of course, don’t hesitate to defend yourselves. Now I
guess we’re ready to start.”
Each party was placed in charge of one of the road’s detectives,
and left the yards by a different route. The night was very dark, with
black clouds rolling overhead and sending down a spatter of rain
now and then, so that the men could scarcely see each other as they
walked along. The party that Jack and Allan were with followed the
railroad track as far as the river-bank; then they turned aside,
crossed the long bridge which spanned the river, and pushed their
way along a path which led to the right along the opposite bank.
It was anything but easy walking, for the path was a narrow and
uneven one, nearly overgrown by the rank underbrush along the
river, so that they had to proceed in single file, the detective in the
lead, stumbling over rocks, stepping into mudholes, with branches
slapping them in the faces, and briars catching at their clothing. At
last they came out upon an open field, which they crossed. Beyond
the field was a road, which they followed for half a mile or more,
then they struck off along another path through an open hickory
wood, and finally halted for breath at the base of a high hill.
In a few moments, the other parties came up, panting and mud-
bespattered, and the detectives and Mr. Schofield drew apart for a
little consultation.
“Now, boys,” said Mr. Schofield, in a low voice, when the
consultation was over, “I’ll tell you what we’re after so that you’ll
know what to expect. One of our men here has discovered up on
this hill the place where the ringleaders among the tramps make
their headquarters. If we can capture these ringleaders, all our
troubles with the tramps will be over. We’re going to surround the
place, and we want to capture every one of them. We must creep up
on them as quietly as we can, and then a pistol-shot will be the
signal for a rush. And, remember, we don’t want any of them to get
away!”
A little murmur ran through the crowd, and they gripped their
clubs tighter. Jack was glad that they had not been given revolvers,
—in the darkness and confusion, such weapons would be more
dangerous to friend than foe.
They started cautiously up the hill, advancing slowly and painfully,
for there was now no vestige of a path. The uneven ground and
tangled undergrowth made progress very difficult, but they gradually
worked their way upward until they came to the edge of a little
clearing. Against a cliff of rock at one side a rude hut was built.
There was no window, but, through the chinks in the logs, they
could see that there was a light within. The men were spread out
along the edge of the clearing, and waited breathlessly for the signal
to advance.
The pistol-shot rang out, clear and sharp in the night air, and,
even as the men sprang forward, the door of the hut was thrown
open and a man’s figure appeared silhouetted against the light. He
stood an instant listening to the rush of advancing footsteps, then
slammed the door shut, and in a breath the hut was in darkness.
But that single instant was enough for both Allan and Jack Welsh
to recognize the man.
It was Dan Nolan!
In another second, they were hammering at the door, but they
found it strongly barred, and three or four minutes elapsed—minutes
that seemed like centuries—before they got the door down and
rushed over the threshold into the hut. One of the detectives opened
his dark lantern and flashed a brilliant band of light about the place,
while the men stared in astonishment.
For the hut was empty!
They lighted the lamp which stood on a box in one corner and
made a more careful examination of the place. Two or three boxes,
an old stove, a few cooking utensils, and a rude cot in one corner
comprised all the furniture, and one of the detectives, pulling aside
the largest box, which stood against the back of the hut, solved the
mystery of Nolan’s disappearance.
A passage had been dug in the bank which formed the back of
the hut, and the detective, after flashing his dark lantern within,
crawled into it without hesitation. In a few moments, they heard the
sound of steps outside, and the detective came in again at the door.
“He’s got clear away,” he said; “as well as all the rest who were
with him. That tunnel leads off to the left and comes out the other
side of this bank.”
Mr. Schofield’s face showed his disappointment.
“It’s too bad,” he said, “that we didn’t know about that tunnel.
Then we could have placed a guard at the other end.”
“There were precious few knew about it,” said the detective who
had discovered the place. “I’ve been here half a dozen times, and
never suspected its existence.”
“Well,” said the train-master, “the only thing we can do is to go
home, I guess. We can’t hope to find a man in these woods on a
night like this.”
“You knowed that feller who opened th’ door, didn’t you, Mister
Schofield?” questioned Jack, as they left the hut.
“No,” said Mr. Schofield, quickly. “Did you?”
“Yes,” replied Jack, quietly; “it was Dan Nolan.”
“Dan Nolan!” repeated the train-master, incredulously. “Are you
sure?”
“Allan here knowed him, too,” said Jack. “It’s what I’ve been
thinkin’ all along, that Nolan was at th’ bottom of all this mischief.
He’s got t’ be a kind o’ king o’ th’ tramps, I guess.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” agreed Mr. Schofield. “I’ll put our
detectives on his trail. Maybe they can run him down, if he hasn’t
been scared away by his narrow escape to-night.”
“He’ll shift his headquarters,” said Jack, “but I don’t believe he’ll
be scared away—not till he gits what he’s after, anyway.”
“And what is that?” questioned the train-master.
“He’s after Allan there,” said Jack, in a lower tone. “An’ he’ll git
him yet, I’m afraid.”
“Well, we’ll make it hot for him around here,” said Mr. Schofield,
and went forward to impart this information to the detectives.
All of the men were completely tired out by the long night tramp,
as well as chagrined over their ill success, but Allan was up again as
usual next morning and started off upon his tramp along the track.
“Now, be careful of yourself, darlint,” Mary cautioned him, as she
saw him off, and Allan promised to be especially alert.
There could be no doubt that it was Dan Nolan they had seen at
the door of the hut the night before, but Allan only half-believed that
Nolan still preserved his enmity toward him. Certainly, he decided, it
was not worth worrying about,—worrying never did any good. He
would be ready to meet danger as it came, but he greatly doubted if
it would ever come, at least, to himself personally.
He had grown to like this duty of patrolling the track. It had been
a pleasant duty, and an uneventful one, for at no time had he found
anything wrong, or met with unpleasant adventure of any kind. But
those long walks through the fresh, cold air, with the dawn just
tingeing the east, opened a new world to the boy. It was no longer
the hot, dusty, work-a-day world of labour, but a sweet, cool, clean
world, where joy dwelt and where a man might grow. He heard the
birds greet the sunrise with never-failing joy; he heard the cattle
lowing in the fields; even the river beside the road seemed to dance
with new life, as the sun’s rays sought it out and gilded its every
ripple. It was not a long walk—three miles out and three back—and
what an appetite for breakfast it gave him! Even these few months
had wrought a great change in him. He was browned by the sun and
hardened by toil, as has been said already; but the change was
greater than that. It was mental as well as physical. He had grown
older, and his face had gained the self-reliant look of the man who is
making his own way in the world and who is sure of himself.
Despite all this extra work, Section Twenty-one was kept in
perfect condition, and the train-master noted it, as he noted
everything else about the road.
“You’re doing good work, Welsh,” he said to Jack one day, when
he chanced to meet him in the yards.
“I’ve got a good gang,” answered the foreman, proudly. “There’s
one o’ my men that’s too good fer section work. He ort t’ have a
better job, Mr. Schofield; one, anyway, where ther’s a chance fer
permotion—in th’ offices.”
“Yes?” and the official smiled good-naturedly. “I think I know who
you mean. I’ll keep him in mind, for we always need good men. This
extra work will soon be over, though. As soon as cold weather sets
in, the hoboes will strike for the South, and I don’t believe they’ll
ever trouble us again.”
“Mebbe not,” agreed Jack, dubiously. “But I’d be mighty glad to
hear that Dan Nolan was locked up safe somewhere. You haven’t
found any trace of him?”
“No. He seems to have disappeared completely. I believe he’s
scared out, and cold weather will rid us of all the rest.”
“Mebbe so,” said Jack; “mebbe so. Anyway, I wish cold weather’d
hurry up an’ come.”
But it seemed in no haste about coming. December opened bright
and warm, and two weeks slipped by. Although it was evident that
the tramps were becoming less numerous, and the management of
the road began to breathe more freely, still the head of the police
department did not relax his caution. He had his ear to the ground,
and, from that hidden, subterranean region of trampdom, he still
heard vague and uncertain, but no less threatening, rumblings.
It was clear that the battle was not yet won, for the petty
annoyances continued, though in an ever lessening degree, and
even in the yards the tramps or their sympathizers managed to do
much harm. A freight-train would be standing in the yards, ready for
its trip east or west; the conductor would give the signal to start, the
engineer would open his throttle, and instantly it would be
discovered that some one had drawn all the coupling-pins; but,
before the engineer could stop his engine, he had torn out all the
air-hose on the train. Or, perhaps, the train would start all right, but,
in the course of half an hour, the fireman would discover he could
not keep the steam up, no matter how hot his fire was; the pressure
would fall and fall until the train would be stalled out on the road,
and an investigation would disclose the fact that some one had
thrown a lot of soap into the tank. Then the whole system would be
tied up until another engine could be sent to the rescue to push the
train into the nearest siding. Or, perhaps, the train would be bowling
along merrily until, of a sudden, the well-trained noses of conductor
and brakemen would detect the odour of a hot box. The train would
be stopped, and it would soon be found that some one had removed
the packing from the boxes.
All of these things were provoking enough, especially since it was
evident that in almost every case the mischief had been done in the
yards under the very noses of the trainmen, although no tramps had
been seen there. Indeed, the trainmen, after wrestling with such
annoyances for a time, came to be of a temper that made it
exceedingly dangerous for a tramp to be found anywhere near
railroad property. Yet the annoyances went on, and became
gradually of a more serious nature. One night a brakeman found the
main switch at the east end of the yards spiked, and it was only by a
hair’s breadth that a serious collision was avoided. But the climax
came one morning when Bill Morrison, on the crack engine of the
road, found that some one had put sand in his boxes, and that the
journals were ground off and ruined.
A rigid investigation was ordered at once, but no clue to the
perpetrator of the mischief was discovered. Yet it seemed certain
that it could not have been done by a tramp. No tramp had been in
the yards—the yard-men were sure of that—and the officials were
forced to the unwelcome conclusion that some one whom they did
not suspect—some one who was permitted to enter the yards—some
one connected with the road, perhaps—was guilty. It was a
disquieting thought, for there was no telling what might happen
next.
And then, one morning, Allan solved the mystery. It was a little
after four o’clock and still quite dark as he passed through the yards
to start on his morning walk. A freight-train stood ready to start
east, with its great mogul of an engine puffing and blowing with
impatience. Just as Allan passed it, he saw a figure emerge from
underneath it. He thought at first it was the engineer, but, instead of
mounting to the cab, the figure slunk away into the darkness,
carefully avoiding the glare of the headlight. Then the boy saw the
conductor and engineer standing, with heads together, a little
distance away, reading their orders by the light of the conductor’s
lantern. He ran toward them.
“Mr. Spurling,” he said to the engineer, “I just saw a man come
out from under your engine.”
“You did!” and engineer and conductor, with compressed lips,
hurried back to where the engine stood. The former flashed his
torch underneath, and then straightened up with a very grim face.
“Look at that link-motion,” he said, and the conductor stooped
and looked. Then he, too, straightened up.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t get started,” he said. “I’ll go and
report it. It’s lucky for us you saw that scoundrel, my boy,” he added,
as he hurried away, and the engineer clapped Allan on the shoulder.
“Mighty lucky,” he said. “It’s a good thing there’s one man around
here who keeps his eyes open.”
But Allan, as he started away at last upon his six-mile tramp,
knew not whether to be glad or sorry. If only some one else had
passed the engine at that moment instead of him. For, as that
crouching figure slunk away through the darkness, he had
recognized it!
So he had a battle to fight on that six-mile tramp; but it was
fought and won long before the walk was ended. And when, at last,
he got back to the yards, instead of turning away toward home, he
mounted the stairs to the train-master’s office. That official was
busy, as always, with a great pile of correspondence, but he looked
up and nodded pleasantly as Allan entered.
“Good morning, West,” he said. “Want to speak to me?”
“Yes, Mr. Schofield,” answered Allan. “This morning, as I was
starting out on my trick, I saw a man come out from under Mr.
Spurling’s engine.”
The train-master nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “I’ve got a report of it here. I’m mighty glad you
happened to come along just when you did, and had your eyes
about you.”
“I’d much rather it had been somebody else,” said Allan, “for I
knew the man, and I think it’s my duty to tell you.”
The train-master looked at him keenly.
“You knew him?” he repeated. “Better and better. No doubt he’s
the one who’s been giving us all this trouble. Who was he?”
Allan gulped down a lump which had arisen suddenly in his throat.
“Reddy Magraw,” he answered, hoarsely.
“Reddy Magraw!” echoed the train-master, with a stare of
astonishment. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t say so if I wasn’t sure, sir,” answered Allan, with a
little flush of resentment. “I couldn’t be mistaken.”
“Of course,” agreed the train-master, kindly. “But I didn’t think
Reddy would do anything like that.”
“I don’t believe he would have done it, sir,” said Allan, “if Dan
Nolan hadn’t got hold of him,” and he told of the conference he and
Jack had witnessed on the river-bank. “I believe Dan put all this
meanness into his head,” he concluded. “I’m sure it’s with Dan he
stays all the time he’s away from home.”
Mr. Schofield nodded again.
“No doubt you are right,” he assented. “Perhaps we ought to have
suspected him before. Of course, the boys never thought of
watching him, and so let him stay around the yards as much as he
wanted to. But we’ll have to protect ourselves. This sort of thing
can’t go on.”
“You mean Reddy will have to be arrested?” questioned Allan,
with sinking heart.
“No,” and the train-master smiled at his anxious face. “I’ll file an
affidavit of lunacy against Reddy before the probate judge, and we’ll
have him sent to the asylum at Athens. He’ll be well taken care of
there, and maybe will get well again much sooner than he would at
home. He’s not getting any better here, that’s certain; and he’s
caused us a lot of trouble. Besides, he’s only a burden to his wife.”
“Oh, she never thinks of that,” said Allan, quickly. “It’s his staying
away that hurts her.”
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Schofield, “I know. I’ve talked with her. She’s
like all the rest of these big-hearted Irish women,—ready to work
herself to death for the people she loves. Though,” he added, “that’s
a characteristic of nearly all women.”
CHAPTER XV.
A SHOT FROM BEHIND
Mr. Schofield filed his affidavit before the probate judge without
delay, but, when the officer of the court went to look for Reddy, he
was nowhere to be found. From his wife it was learned that he had
not been home for two days, nor was he to be discovered in any of
his accustomed haunts around the yards or in the shops, and the
quest for him was finally given up in despair. Allan concluded that
Reddy had recognized him that morning, as he came out from under
the engine which he had tampered with, and knew that he was
found out at last; but, whether this was the case, or whether he had
got wind of the proceedings against him in some other way, certain
it is that Reddy disappeared from Wadsworth, and nothing more was
seen of him there for many days.
Word was quietly passed around among the trainmen to be on the
watch for him, as he was probably the one who had recently caused
the road so much annoyance; and this came to be pretty well proved
in time, for, with Reddy’s disappearance, the annoyances ceased, in
so far, at least, as they originated in the yards at Wadsworth. Out on
the line, indeed, they still continued,—switches were spiked, fish-
plates were loosened,—and then, of a sudden, even these ceased,
and everything ran as smoothly as in the old days. But this very
quiet alarmed the chief of detectives more than anything else had
done, for he believed it was the calm preceding a storm, and he
redoubled his precautions. Some of the officers were rather inclined
to laugh at his fears, but not the superintendent.
“You are right, Preston,” he said to the chief. “There’s something
in the wind. We’ll look sharp till after the pay-car gets here, anyway.
After that, if nothing happens, we can let up a bit.”
“When will the pay-car get here?” questioned Preston.
“I don’t know yet; probably the night of the twenty-fourth.”
“You’d better order a double guard with it, sir,” suggested the
detective.
“I will,” assented the superintendent. “More than that, Mr.
Schofield and I will accompany it. If there’s any excitement, we want
to be there to see it.”
The detective nodded and went away, while the superintendent
turned back to his desk. It had occurred to him some days before
that an attempt to hold up the pay-car might be the culminating
point of the series of outrages under which the road was suffering,
and the more he had thought of it the more likely it appeared. The
pay-car would be a rich prize, and any gang of men who could get
away with its contents would be placed beyond the need of working,
begging, or stealing for a long time to come. The pay-car, which
always started from general headquarters at Cincinnati, went over
the road, from one end to the other, every month, carrying with it
the money with which the employés of the road were paid. To
Wadsworth alone it brought monthly nearly two hundred thousand
dollars, for Wadsworth was division headquarters. Nearly all the
trainmen employed on the division lived there, and besides, there
were the hundreds of men who laboured in the division shops. Yes,
the pay-car would be a rich prize, and, as the money it carried was
all in small denominations, it would be impossible to trace it, once
the robbers got safely away with it.
Let it be said in passing that on most roads the pay-car is now a
thing of the past. Payment is now usually made by checks, which are
sent out in registered packages from general headquarters, and
distributed by the division officials. This method is safe and
eminently satisfactory to the road, but some of the employés object
occasionally because of the difficulty they sometimes experience in
getting their checks cashed immediately.
The road had never suffered any attack upon its pay-car, primarily,
no doubt, because it was well-known that there were always half a
dozen well-armed men with it, who would not hesitate to use their
weapons. In fact, every man, as he stood at the little grated
cashier’s window, waiting for his money, could see the row of rifles
in the rack against the wall and the brace of pistols lying upon the
desk, ready to the cashier’s hand. Besides, even if the car were
broken into and the money secured, the difficulty of getting away
safely with the booty was enormous. The road, for the most part,
ran through a thickly settled country, and the moment the alarm was
given, posses could be set in motion and the wires set humming in
every direction, in the effort to run the robbers down. So, with
whatever hungry greed would-be highwaymen had eyed the piles of
bills and gold visible through the little grated window, none of them
had ever dared to make a forcible attempt to gain possession of
them.
Perhaps no one would dare attempt it now, thought the
superintendent; perhaps he had been merely alarming himself
without cause. At least, the most effective defensive measure would
be to keep secret the hour of the pay-car’s arrival. If no one knew
exactly when to look for it, no attempt could be made to hold it up.
Such an attempt, at the best, would be foolhardy, and the
superintendent turned back to his work with a little sigh of relief at
the thought. In a few moments, immersed in the pile of
correspondence before him, he had quite forgotten his uneasiness.
Certainly, as day after day went smoothly by, there seemed less
and less cause for apprehension. The tramps were evidently making
southward, like the birds, before the approach of winter. And nothing
more was seen of Dan Nolan. A watch had been kept upon the hut
on the hillside, but he had not returned there, so the hut was finally
demolished and the tunnel in the cliff closed up. Every effort had
been made to discover his whereabouts, but in vain. The detectives
of the road declared that he was nowhere in the neighbourhood; but
Jack Welsh was, as always, skeptical.
Just east of Wadsworth, beyond the river, the country rose into a
series of hills, sparsely settled and for the most part covered by
virgin forest. These hills extended for many miles to the eastward,
and among them, Jack told himself, Nolan could easily find a secure
hiding-place for himself and half a dozen men.
“An’ that’s jest where he is,” said Jack to Allan one evening, when
they were talking the matter over. “That’s jest what Nolan’d love t’
do—put hisself at th’ head of a gang o’ bandits. He was allers talkin’
about highwaymen an’ train-robbers an’ desperadoes when he was
on th’ gang; but we only laughed at him then. Now, I see it would
have been a good thing if I’d ’a’ taken a stout stick an’ beat that
foolishness out o’ him.”
“But Reddy,” said Allan; “where’s Reddy?”
“Reddy’s with him,” answered Jack, decidedly. “An’ there’s no
tellin’ what scrape that reptile’ll git him into. I dare say, Reddy thinks
Nolan’s his best friend. That’d be natural enough, since he’s got to
thinkin’ that all his old friends are his worst enemies.”
“If we could only find him!” said Allan, wistfully “and bring him
home again. The poor fellow will never get well if he’s left to wander
about like that.”
But there seemed no way of finding him. Allan was the last person
who had seen him. That was at the moment, in the early morning,
when he had slunk away from under the engine. Some warning of
the search for him must certainly have reached him, for he had
never again appeared at home. His wife, nearly heart-broken by the
suspense, imagining him suffering all sorts of hardships, yet went
about her work with a calm persistence which concealed in some
degree the tumult which raged within her. The children must be fed
and cared for, and she permitted nothing to stand between her and
that duty. The division offices had never been so clean as they were
since Mrs. Magraw had taken charge of them.
A day or two later, Allan fancied he saw something which proved
the truth of Jack’s theory. It was one morning as he was returning
from his regular trip that he reached the embankment along the
river and glanced over at the willows on the farther side, as he
always did when he passed the place, for it was there that he and
Jack had first seen Reddy in Nolan’s company. His heart gave a leap
as he saw two men there. He stopped and looked at them, but the
early morning mist rising from the river hid them so that he could
discern nothing beyond the mere outline of their forms. He stared
long and earnestly, until they passed behind the clump of willows
and disappeared from sight. Something told him that it was Reddy
and Nolan again, but he could not be sure, and at last he went
slowly on his way. Perhaps they had a place of concealment
somewhere in the woods that stretched eastward from the river-
bank.
He mentioned his suspicion to Jack, as soon as he reached home,
and the latter was all on fire in a minute.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he said. “Next Sunday we’ll take a
walk through th’ woods over there, an’ it’s jest possible we’ll run on
to ’em. Mebbe we kin save Reddy from that rascal yet!”
So, bright and early the next Sunday morning, they started out,
taking with them a lunch, for they did not expect to return until
evening. They crossed the river by the bridge which they had used
on the night when they had tried to capture Nolan, and struck at
once into the woods.
“It’s like huntin’ a needle in a haystack,” said Jack, “but my idea is
that they’ve got a hut somewheres back in th’ hollers behind this
first range o’ hills. They’s mighty few houses back there,—nothin’ but
woods. So mebbe we’ll run on to ’em, if we have good luck.”
They scrambled up the first low range of hills which looked down
upon the broad river, and paused for a moment on the summit for a
look about them. Beyond the river lay the level valley which, twelve
decades before, had been one of the favourite dwelling-places of the
red man. The woods abounded with game of every sort, and the
river with fish, while in the fertile bottom his corn would grow to ripe
luxuriance with little cultivation. More than one fierce battle for the
possession of this smiling valley had been fought with the hardy
bands of pioneers, who had pushed their way up from the Ohio, but
at last the advancing tide of civilization swept the Indian aside, and
the modern town of Wadsworth began to rise where formerly there
had been no building more substantial than the hide wigwam.
Jack and Allan could see the town nestling among its trees in the
wide valley, but, when they turned about, a different view met them.
To the eastward were no plains, no bottoms, no city, but, far as the
eye could see, one hill rose behind another, all of them heavily
wooded to the very summit, so steep and with a soil so gravelly that
no one had ever attempted to cultivate them. Nor did any one dwell
among them, save a few poverty-stricken families, who lived in
summer by picking blackberries and in winter by digging sassafras-
root,—a class of people so shiftless and mean and dirty that no
respectable farmer would permit them on his place.
It was the rude cabin of one of these families which Jack and
Allan saw in the valley before them, and they determined to descend
to it and make inquiries. There was a rough path leading downwards
through the woods, and this they followed until they came to the
edge of the little clearing which surrounded the house. They went
forward to the door and knocked, but there was no response, and,
after a moment, Jack pushed the door open cautiously and looked
inside. As he did so, a shot rang out behind him, and Allan felt a
sudden sting of pain across his cheek as a bullet sang past and
embedded itself in the jamb of the door.
“What’s that?” cried Jack, springing around, and then he saw
Allan wiping the blood from his cheek. “What is it, lad?” he asked,
his face paling. “You’re not hurted?”
“Only a scratch,” said Allan, smiling. “Just took a little of the skin
off.”
“Come in here an’ we’ll look at it,” and Jack half-dragged him
through the open door, which he closed and barred. “That’ll keep th’
varmint from takin’ another shot at us,” he said. “Now let’s see the
cheek.”
But not even Jack’s anxiety could make of the wound more than a
scratch. The bullet had cut the skin from the left cheek for nearly an
inch, and a little cold water, which Jack found in a bucket in the
house, soon stopped the bleeding.
“Who could it have been?” asked Allan, at last.
“Y’ don’t need t’ ask that, I hope,” cried Jack. “It was Dan Nolan!”
“Well, he didn’t hurt me much,” said Allan, with a laugh. “He
doesn’t seem to have very good luck.”
“No,” said Jack; “but if that bullet had been an inch further to th’
right, you wouldn’t be a-settin’ laughin’ there,” and a little shudder
ran through him as he thought of it, and he clinched his hands as he
imagined what his vengeance would have been.
“Do you suppose Nolan lives here?” asked Allan, looking curiously
around the room.
“No,” said Jack; “they’s one o’ th’ Waymores lives here, but I
wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he was in cahoots with Nolan. These
people’re just as much vagabonds as them that go trampin’ about th’
country.”
Allan looked again about the squalid room, and turned a little sick
at the thought of living in the midst of such filth and wretchedness.
“Come, let’s get out of here,” he said. “I want some fresh air. This
is enough to turn one’s stomach.”
“I tell you,” suggested Jack, “suppose we go out th’ back door
there an’ sneak around th’ edge of th’ clearin’. Mebbe we kin come
on Nolan when he ain’t lookin’—and what I’ll do to him’ll be a
plenty!”
Allan laughed at his ferocity.
“I don’t believe Nolan would stay around here,” he said. “He didn’t
know but what there were others with us. He probably decamped as
soon as he took that crack at me.”
“Well, it won’t do any harm t’ try,” said Jack, and try they did, but
no trace of Nolan was anywhere to be seen.
They went on through the woods, eating their lunch beside a
limpid spring which bubbled from beneath a rock in the hillside, and
during the afternoon pushed on along the valley, but met no human
beings. If it was indeed Nolan who fired the shot, he had taken to
cover effectually. Allan began to doubt more and more that it had
really been Nolan.
“It might have been a hunter,” he pointed out to Jack, “who was
shooting at something else, and did not see us at all. Such things
happen, you know.”
“Yes,” Jack admitted, “but that wasn’t what happened this time,”
and, when they reached home again, he went straight over to the
offices and related to Mr. Schofield the details of the morning’s
adventures. That official promised to put two detectives on Nolan’s
trail at once. They worked on it for two or three days, but, though
they even employed a bloodhound in the effort to run him down, all
their work was quite in vain. The man to whom the cabin belonged
said he had walked over to a neighbour’s that Sunday and had been
away from home all day. He denied all knowledge of Nolan or Reddy
Magraw, And the search ended, as all the others had done, without
finding a trace of either of them.
So the days passed, and the work on section went on in its
unvaried round. And even from day to day Allan felt himself
changing, as his horizon broadened. He had become a different boy
from the diffident youngster who had asked Jack Welsh for a job
that morning a few short months before. Work had strengthened
him and made him a man; he felt immeasurably older; he had
gained self-confidence; he felt that he could look out for himself in
any emergency. He was playing a man’s part in the world; he was
earning an honest living. He had gained friends, and he began to
feel that he had a future before him. He was going to make the most
of every opportunity, for he was ambitious, as every boy ought to
be. He longed to get into the superintendent’s office, where there
would be a chance to learn something about the infinitely difficult
work of operating the road, and where there would be a chance for
promotion. He never spoke of this to Jack, for such a thought
seemed almost like desertion, but he never passed the offices
without looking longingly up at the network of wires and signals.
Sometimes, when some duty took him up-stairs, he could hear the
wild chatter of the instruments in the despatchers’ office, and he
determined to try to understand their language.
Jack came into the section-shanty one morning with a sheet of
paper in his hand and a broad smile upon his face.
“I’ve got a Christmas gift fer y’, boys,” he said, and stuck the
notice up on the hook. They all crowded around to read it.