“I’m the Doc.” “A friend of mine is sick--out of town here a little ways.” “Take Bobby again,” Letty urged in an undertone. “You know how tough he is. He won’t mind, if the trip is short.” “But he ain’t had his feed,” said the doctor. “I’ll tie some oats to the saddle.” As she hurried off the doctor went up to the man on the mule. “What kind of a case is it?” he inquired, and noticed that the stranger had a handkerchief tied under his jaws and over his ears. “That’s what I expect you to tell me.” There was a note of sneering in the retort. “I mean, is it surgical?” explained the other. “Well, suppose you come fixed so’s you’ll be ready for any kind of a case.” The doctor stared. It was Eastman’s reply--with a different wording. And the coincidence seemed a strange one. Then: “You’d better let me do somethin’ for that toothache,” he said kindly. “Oh, it don’t amount to anything,” was the short answer. The doctor had not unbuckled his case. Now he crossed the corral to Bobby and picked up bridle and saddle. The stranger led the way out of town, hurrying his mule forward with voice, switch and heels, and taking the main traveled road that led south beside the railroad track. Night was already settling, and to the left the scattered shafts of a cemetery gleamed white through the gathering dusk. Beyond the cemetery, where a dim road branched eastward across the rails toward the river, the guide drew up and dismounted and busied himself for a moment with the bridle of his mule. The doctor also reined and waited. Presently his companion came walking back, leaving the mule tied to the railroad fence. “Doc,” he began, putting one hand on Bobby’s bridle and the other on the doctor’s knee, “don’t misunderstand what I’m going to say to you.” “Yas? What’s that?” Of a sudden the doctor felt dislike and suspicion. “Where I’m going,” continued the man deliberately, “you’ll have to travel blindfolded.” The doctor did not speak for a moment. Again he was staring at the other, not so startled as he was amazed at this, the second queer call in a single day! Before he had finished puzzling over the half-crazed woman at Blue Top and the trio of armed men who had halted him, here was another mystery. Was the county gone mad? “You’ve barked up the wrong tree, Mister,” he said finally, looking into the small eyes that were glinting up at him. “I’ve got just five dollars with me. Let me show y’.” He reached into a pocket. “That ain’t worth cuttin’ my throat for.” A boisterous laugh greeted this. Then: “Cut your throat! Why, I’m not after money. I want a doctor. And I’m going to have a doctor.” Still holding to Bobby’s rein the stranger reached down and patted his right thigh. “I’ve never heard of taking a doctor to a sick man at the end of a gun,” he added, “but if you hold back that’s the way I’ll take you. Get down.” The doctor dismounted. “Turn around,” was the next order.