"God'lmighty!" exclaimed Slater with a start. "I haven't got anything but a light cold." "Then this liniment ought to be just the thing." "Humph! It don't smell like liniment," Tom declared, after a moment, but the doctor had fallen to work on him and he submitted with resignation. Perhaps an hour later Dr. Gray appeared at the Appleton bungalow and surprised Eliza by saying: "I've come to you for some help. You're the only soul in Omar that I can trust." "Have you gone raving mad?" she inquired. "No. I must put an end to Linn's activity or we'll be ruined. These workmen must be held in Omar, and you must help me do it." "They have the right to go where they please." "Of course, but Gordon will let them out as soon as he has crippled us. Tell me, would you like to be a trained nurse?" "No, I would not," declared Eliza, vehemently. "I'm neither antiseptic nor prophylactic." "Nevertheless, you're going to be one--Tom needs you." "Tom? What ails him?" "Nothing at this moment, but--wait until to-morrow." The physician's eyes were twinkling, and when he had explained the cause of his amusement Eliza laughed. "Of course I'll help," she said. "But it won't hurt the poor fellow, will it?" "Not in the least, unless it frightens him to death. Tom's an awful coward about sickness; that's why I need some one like you to take care of him. He'll be at the hospital to-morrow at three. If you'll arrange to be there we'll break the news to him gently. I daren't tackle it alone." Tom was a trifle embarrassed at finding Eliza in Dr. Gray's office when he entered, on the next afternoon. The boss packer seemed different than usual; he was much subdued. His cough had disappeared, but in its place he suffered a nervous apprehension; his cheeks were pale, the gloom in his eyes had changed to a lurking uneasiness. "Just dropped in to say I'm all right again," he announced in an offhand tone. "That's good!" said Gray. "You don't look well, however." "I'm feeling fine!" Mr. Slater hunched his shoulders as if the contact of his shirt was irksome to the flesh. "You'd better let me rub you. Why are you scratching yourself?" "I ain't scratching." "You were!" The doctor was sternly curious; he had assumed his coldest and most professional air. "Well, if I scratched, I probably itched. That's why people scratch, ain't it?" "Let me look you over." "I can't spare the time, Doc--" "Wait!" Gray's tone halted the speaker as he turned to leave. "I'm not going to let you out in this weather until I rub you." This time there was no mistaking "Happy Tom's" pallor. "I tell you I feel great," he declared in a shaking voice. "I--haven't felt so good for years." "Come, come! Step into the other room and take off your shirt." "Not on your life." "What do you mean?" "I don't want no more of your dam' liniment." "Why?" "Because I'm--because I don't."