"It don't take much time to cut off a leg," said Dr. Barnes. "Do it in three minutes." His face, professionally grim, showed no token of a smile. "Well, I left my folks all alone up there," began Sim. "You did, eh? Well, they'll be there when you get back, won't they?" "I dunno, Doc----" "Well, I don't know anything about it, if you don't. But tell me, how's the fishing up in there? Any grayling?" "All you want," said Sim Gage. "Come along up any time, and I'll take you out. But no, I guess maybe----" Dr. Barnes looked at him curiously, and Wid Gardner went on to explain for his neighbor. "You see, Doc, Sim, he's just newly married," said he, "or else he's going to be right soon. Sim, he's kind of bashful about having you around." "Thanks! But come--I haven't any time. Come into the office, and we'll have a look at the leg." Wid drove after the stalking figure, which presently drew up in front of the little office. In a few moments they had Sim Gage, the injured member bared, sitting up in a white chair in a very white and clean miniature hospital which Dr. Barnes had installed. "This wound hasn't been cleaned properly," commented the doctor at once. "What did you put on it?" "Why, whiskey. I didn't have nothing else." "Try water the next time," said Dr. Barnes with sarcasm. "We'll have to paint it up with iodine now. Lockjaw, blood poison and amputation is the very least that will happen to you if you don't look out." "Amputation?" Sim turned with curiosity to his neighbor. "It's where they cut off your leg, Sim," said Wid, explaining. "Oh, well, maybe we'll save his leg," said Dr. Barnes, grinning at last. "But don't let this occur again, my Christian friend. This will lay you up for two or three weeks the best way it can happen, in all likelihood. Well, I'll swab it out and tie it up, and give you some iodine. Keep it painted. How big do the grayling go up in your country?" "I've seen plenty over three pounds," said Sim Gage. "I don't like to doubt your word, my friend, but if you'll show me one three-pound grayling, you won't ever owe me anything for fixing up your leg." "I sure can, Doc," said Sim Gage. "Grasshoppers is best." "For you, maybe. If you please, I'll try Queen of the Waters, or Professor, long-shanked, and about Number 8. And I say again, if you'll put me up to a three-pound grayling I'll cut off your leg for nothing any time you want it done!" "Well, now," said Sim Gage, his forehead puckering up, "I don't want to put you under no obligations, Doc." "He won't, neither, Doc," interrupted Wid Gardner, while the surgical dressing was going forward. "There's holes in there twenty feet deep, and I've see two or three hundred grayling in there dang near as long as your arm." "Ouch, Doc!" remarked Sim Gage, "that yellow stuff smarts."