They left their dump-hill and proceeded over to the dance. The musician sat high and solitary upon two starch-boxes, fiddle on knee, staring and waiting. Half the floor was bare; on the other half the revellers were densely clotted. At the crowd's outer rim the young horsemen, flushed and swaying, retained their gaudy dance partners strongly by the waist, to be ready when the music should resume. “What is it?” they asked. “Who is it?” And they looked in across heads and shoulders, inattentive to the caresses which the partners gave them. Mrs. Lusk was who it was, and she had taken poison here in their midst, after many dances and drinks. “Here's Doc!” cried an older one. “Here's Doc!” chorused the young blood that had come into this country since his day. And the throng caught up the words: “Here's Doc! here's Doc!” In a moment McLean and Barker were sundered from each other in this flood. Barker, sucked in toward the centre but often eddied back by those who meant to help him, heard the mixed explanations pass his ear unfinished--versions, contradictions, a score of facts. It had been wolf-poison. It had been “Rough on Rats.” It had been something in a bottle. There was little steering in this clamorous sea; but Barker reached his patient, where she sat in her new dress, hailing him with wild inebriate gayety. “I must get her to her room, friends,” said he. “He must get her to her room,” went the word. “Leave Doc get her to her room.” And they tangled in their eagerness around him and his patient. “Give us 'Buffalo Girls!'” shouted Mrs. Lusk.... “'Buffalo Girls,' you fiddler!” “We'll come back,” said Barker to her. “'Buffalo Girls,' I tell yus. Ho! There's no sense looking at that bottle, Doc. Take yer dance while there's time!” She was holding the chair. “Help him!” said the crowd. “Help Doc.” They took her from her chair, and she fought, a big pink mass of ribbons, fluttering and wrenching itself among them. “She has six ounces of laudanum in her,” Barker told them at the top of his voice. “It won't wait all night.” “I'm a whirlwind!” said Mrs. Lusk. “That's my game! And you done your share,” she cried to the fiddler. “Here's my regards, old man! 'Buffalo Girls' once more!” She flung out her hand, and from it fell notes and coins, rolling and ringing around the starch boxes. Some dragged her on, while some fiercely forbade the musician to touch the money, because it was hers, and she would want it when she came to. Thus they gathered it up for her. But now she had sunk down, asking in a new voice where was Lin McLean. And when one grinning intimate reminded her that Lusk had gone to shoot him, she laughed out richly, and the crowd joined her mirth. But even in the midst of the joke she asked again in the same voice where was Lin McLean. He came beside her among more jokes. He had kept himself near, and now at sight of him she reached out and held him. “Tell them to leave me go to sleep, Lin,” said she.