"You are some person, Jude! Keep boiling water going. I'm going to wash that wound of Doug's every hour. This cattle country is the devil for infection." "Oughtn't we to take him up to Mountain City?" asked Jude, in sudden anxiety. "We could get Young Jeff's auto." "At the first sign of trouble, I will," replied Peter. "But I think I've had more experience with gunshot wounds than Doc Winston's had." There was a renewed sound of scratching and whining at the door. Douglas opened his eyes. "Better let Prince in long enough to see that I'm all right," he said. Peter groaned. "Another insult to Sister! However, if he and the pup won't fight--" "I'll answer for Wolf Cub." Judith tossed a warning glance at the corner where gray ears were twitching restlessly. Peter opened the door carefully. Sister and Prince stormed in. There was a mix-up, during which the pup did not stir from his corner and Sister was shoved out the door, snapping at Prince as she went. Prince wagged his tail at Judith and Peter, then put his forepaws on the bed and gazed anxiously at Douglas. He sniffed at the wounded shoulder, wriggled and gave a short, sharp bark. Doug opened his eyes. "It's all right, Prince." Prince licked Doug's cheek. "So that's understood," said Peter, taking Prince by the collar, "and you can just step out and talk it over with gentle little Sister." Douglas closed his eyes again. Judith sat down on the floor, her back against the bed. Peter lighted his pipe and put a fresh panful of towels on to boil, before settling himself in his homemade armchair. "I understand Scott gave you a little blue roan that's a real bucker," he said. "He didn't give him to me. It was pay for some work I did for him." "Uhuh! What do you aim to do with him?" "Keep him unbroke for the Fourth of July rodeo. And, Peter, I'm going to enter my Sioux bull for some stunts." "Dangerous work, I'd say. What kind of stunts?" The young girl chuckled. "You wait and see! That Sioux weighs a good two thousand pounds and he thinks he's a bear cub!" "Bear cub! I don't know what John Spencer's thinking of!" grunted Peter. "John doesn't think. He just feels," said Judith. There was a short silence which the girl broke by saying, "Peter, were you ever in love?" The postmaster took his pipe from his mouth, stared at Judith's earnest eyes, put the pipe back and replied, "Yes." "How many times?" "How many times? Can you really be in love more than once, Judith?" "Now, what's the use of saying that to me, Peter? I'm not a baby!" "In many ways you are," returned Peter, serenely. "Why this interest in love? What's his name?" "I'm not sure it's any one. But of course I think a lot about it. You aren't laughing, are you, Peter?" "God forbid! I feel much more like crying." Judith smiled up at him, doubtfully. "Crying?" "Yes; you are so young, Jude. I hate to think of your dreams going by you."