“Poor old Doc,” Shaw muttered. He looked at Rock with new interest. “I wouldn’t ’a’ believed it if _she_ hadn’t told me. You’re the dead spit of him. You talk like him. Only, you seemed a little different, some way, from what Doc used to be.” “Come on into the bunk room,” Rock invited. “Let’s try to get down to cases.” “Has anything happened?” Nona asked sharply. “Gosh, no,” Rock equivocated. “Nothing at all. I wanted this kid to know how things stand, though. I couldn’t go on and not tip my hand, for fear he’d think there was something queer about me.” “Probably it’s best,” Nona agreed. “Supper will be ready in a few minutes. Charlie has to ride back to the round-up. I’ll call you.” “All right.” * * * * * They turned out of the hall into the huge room where Rock slept. Side by side, they sat on a bed that seemed lost in that empty space, where forgotten riders had clanked their spurs and joked and told stories through long winter nights, while the fireplace roared. “Now you see where I stand,” Rock said. “I’m having a dead man’s troubles wished on me. Tell me just how Doc Martin stood with Alice Snell, and why Buck Walters had his knife out for Doc.” “That’s simple,” the boy answered. “This blond _dulce_ was soft on Doc--crazy about him. I don’t blame you. Darn it, I keep thinkin’ of you as Doc Martin. I can’t get it that he’s cashed in.” “You can see how hard it is for me to make any one believe I’m _not_ Doc,” Rock observed. “Hell, yes. They’d have to have it _proved_. They’d laugh and think you were trying to put it over ’em.” “Were you and Doc friends?” Rock asked. He wanted to know where this boy stood. “I liked Doc,” the boy said simply. “He showed me lots of things. He was kinda high-handed with anybody he didn’t like. But he was darned good to me. Doc was a white man.” “No chance of him being mixed up in anything underhanded?” Charlie Shaw snorted disdainfully, which was explicit enough answer for Rock. “Go on, tell me about Alice Snell and Doc--and Buck Walters,” he prompted. “Buck’s the fly in the ointment.” Charlie frowned. “As I said, I don’t blame Doc for playin’ up to Alice. She’s a mighty sweet-lookin’ girl. Only----” “I gathered somehow,” Rock filled in the pause, “that the late Doc was pretty sweet on Nona Parke. So much so, that he was jealous of any man that paid her much attention, and that he got himself in wrong with Elmer Duffy over that.”