At the table--after Laramie had told part of his story--the talk, genial to cheerfulness, was largely professional criticism of the shot across the Crazy Woman. The technical disadvantages of shooting uphill, the tendency to over-elevate for such shots, the difficulty of catching the pace and speed of a horse, all supplied judicial observations for Lefever and Sawdy, while Laramie--so nearly the victim--leaving the topic to these Sleepy Cat gun pundits, conferred with Carpy about the care of gunshot wounds; and protested against Flat Nose George and the Museum of Horrors in the Doctor's office. "But I want to tell you, boys," remarked the doctor, when the talk turned on the discomfiture of the enemy group, "what Barb asked me tonight--this is on the dead." The doctor looked around to include Belle--who was standing with folded arms, her back against the sideboard and listening to the conversation--in his injunction of secrecy. "He came to me at the hotel. 'Doc,' says Barb, 'I want to ask you a question. There's stories circulating around about Laramie's getting shot this morning, on his way into town. Has Laramie been to you to get fixed up, at all?' "'Well, Barb,' I says, 'that's not really a fair question for me to answer--you know that. But since you spoke about it, Jim was in awhile ago----' "'Was in, eh?' "'For a few minutes----' "'Hit?' "'That I couldn't say. What he asked for, Barb, was a bottle of Perry Davis' painkiller--said the rheumatiz was getting him to beat the band.'" Carpy paused: "'Rheumatiz!' says Barb. He didn't stop to swear--he just bit his old cigar right square in two in the middle, dropped one end on the floor and stamped on it." The Doctor leaned forward and spoke to Laramie: "How's longhorn, Jim?" Laramie looked troubled: "If it wasn't for dragging you into it, I'd ask you to go out and see him." "Jim, a doctor's place is where he's needed." "I left a twenty dollar gold piece in your medicine chest for the stuff I took." "You go to hell!" The Doctor pulled a handful of money from his pocket and threw a double eagle at Laramie. "There's your gold piece." "Belle, look at them fellows," exclaimed Sawdy moodily, "pockets loaded. I never had more than twenty dollars at one time in my life. My mother told me to take care of the pennies and the dollars would take care of themselves. The blamed dollars wouldn't do it. I took care of the pennies. I've got 'em yet--that's all I have got. Jim, I'll match you for that gold piece." "Gamblers never have a cent," commented Belle darkly. "That gold piece," explained Laramie, "is not my money, Harry. It's Carpy's money and he'll keep it if I have to make him swallow it." "That's not the question," declared Carpy. "Did you get what you wanted?" Laramie told him he did. "And by the great Jehosaphat," added the doctor, "you bumped into Kate Doubleday!" "What else did you expect?" retorted Laramie, not pleased at the recollection.