"I know a shrub the Injuns sometimes use for fever," he said to Miss Doc, at last, when he suddenly thought of the aboriginal medicine. "It grows in the mountains. Perhaps it would do him good." "I don't know," she answered, at the end of her resources, and she clasped her hands. "I don't know." "If only I can git a horse," said Jim, "I might be able to find the shrub." He waited, however, by the side of the moaning little pilgrim. Then, half an hour later, Bone, the bar-keep, came up to see him, in haste and excitement. They stood outside, where the visitor had called him for a talk. "Jim," said Bone, "you're in fer trouble. Parky is goin' to jump your claim to-night--it bein' New Year's eve, you know--at twelve o'clock. He told me so himself. He says you 'ain't done assessment, nor you can't--not now--and you 'ain't got no more right than anybody else to hold the ground. And so he's meanin' to slap a new location on the claim the minute this here year is up." "Wal, the little feller's awful sick," said Jim. "I'm thinkin' of goin' up in the mountains for some stuff the Injuns sometimes use for fever." "You can't go and leave your claim unprotected," said Bone. "How did Parky happen to tell you his intentions?" said Jim. "He wanted me to go in with him," Bone replied, flushing hotly at the bare suggestion of being involved in a trick so mean. "He made me promise, first, I wouldn't give the game away, but I've got to tell it to you. I couldn't stand by and see you lose that gold-ledge now." "To-morrow is New Year's, sure enough," Jim replied, reflectively. "That mine belongs to little Skeezucks." "But Parky's goin' to jump it, and he's got a gang of toughs to back him up." "I'd hate to lose it, Bone. It would seem hard," said Jim. "But I ought to go up in the hills to find that shrub. If only I had a horse. I could go and git back in time to watch the claim." Bone was clearly impatient. "Don't git down to the old 'if only' racket now," he said, with heat. "I busted my word to warn you, Jim, and the claim is worth a fortune to you and little Skeezucks." Jim's eyes took on a look of pain. "But, Bone, if he don't git well," he said--"if he don't git well, think how I'd feel! Couldn't you get me a horse? If only--" "Hold on," interrupted Bone, "I'll do all I kin for the poor little shaver, but I don't expect I can git no horse. I'll go and see, but the teams has all got the extry stock in harness, fer the roads is mighty tough, and snow, down the canon, is up to the hubs of the wheels. You've got to be back before too late or your claim goes up, fer, Jim, you know as well as me that Parky's got the right of law!" "If only I could git that shrub," said Jim, as his friend departed, and back to the tossing little man he went, worried to the last degree.