“I’ve not told y’u about his false teeth!” shrieked Scipio, hoping this would detain him. “And he does tricks with a rabbit and a bowl of fish.” But the guest was gone. In his place presently the Post surgeon came, and was not pleased. Indeed, this excellent army doctor swore. Still, it was not the first time that he had done so, nor did it prove the last; and Scipio, it soon appeared, had given himself no hurt. But in answer to a severe threat, he whined:-- “Oh, ain’t y’u goin’ to let me see him to-morro’?” “You’ll see nobody to-morrow except me.” “Well, that’ll be seein’ nobody,” whined Scipio, more grievously. The doctor grinned. “In some ways you’re incurable. Better go to sleep now.” And he left him. Scipio did not go to sleep then, though by morning he had slept ten healthful hours, waking with the Uncle still at the centre of his thoughts. It made him again knit his brows. “No, you can’t see him to-day,” said the doctor, in reply to a request. “But I hadn’t finished sayin’ something to him,” Scipio protested. “And I’m well enough to see my dead grandmother.” “That I’ll not forbid,” answered the doctor. And he added that the Virginian had gone back to Sunk Creek with some horses. “Oh, yes,” said Scipio. “I’d forgot. Well, he’ll be coming through on his way to Billings next week. You been up to the Agency lately? Yesterday? Well, there’s going to be something new happen. Agent seem worried or anything?” “Not that I noticed. Are the Indians going on the war-path?” “Nothing like that. But why does a senator of the United States put his nephew in that store? Y’u needn’t to tell me it’s to provide for him, for it don’t provide. I thought I had it figured out last night, but Horacles don’t fit. I can’t make him fit. He don’t understand Injuns. That’s my trouble. Now the Uncle must know Horacles don’t understand. But if he didn’t know?” pursued Scipio, and fell to thinking. “Well,” said the doctor indulgently, as he rose, “it’s good you can invent these romances. Keeps you from fretting, shut up here alone.” “There’d be no romances here,” retorted Scipio. “Uncle is exclusively hard cash.” The doctor departed. At his visit next morning, he was pleased with his patient’s condition. “Keep on,” said he, “and I’ll let you sit up Monday for ten minutes. Any more romances?” “Been thinkin’ of my past life,” said Scipio. The doctor laughed long. “Why, how old are you, anyhow?” he asked at length.