Spread before him in
brave array across the water lay the promised land--and, like Moses,
he was not to reach it.
"That's the greatest city in America," said the ship's surgeon as he
came up to where he was standing. "What do you think of it?"
"I never seen one stand on end afore!" exclaimed Sandy, amazed.
"Would you like to go ashore long enough to look about?" asked the
doctor, with a smile running around the fat folds of his cheeks.
"And would I?" asked Sandy, his eyes flying open. "It's me word of
honor I'd give you that I'd come back."
"The word of a stowaway, eh?" asked the doctor, still smiling.
In a moment Sandy's face was crimson. "Whatever I be, sir, I ain't a
liar!"
The doctor pursed up his lips in comical dismay: "Not so hot, my man;
not so hot! So you still want to be a doctor?"
Sandy cooled down sufficiently to say that it was the one ambition of
his life.
"I know the physician in charge of the City Hospital here in New York.
He's a good fellow. He'd put you through--give you work and put you in
the way of going to the Medical School. You'd like that?"
"But," cried Sandy, bewildered but hopeful, "I have to go back!"
The doctor shook his head. "No, you don't. I've paid your passage."
Sandy waited a moment until the full import of the words was taken in,
then he grabbed the stout little doctor and almost lifted him off his
feet.
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