"Was it a reel tumble, Derry?" he asked softly. "Seems like it, Mac. Don't worry your kind old fat head. No one saw me. Let me lie quiet now, there's a good soul. I've done enough thinking for today." "Say, Boy, kin yer smoke?" "No--not till the doc is through." MacGonigal bit the end off a cigar, bit it viciously, as if he were annoyed at it. Then he struck a match by drawing it sharply along the side of his leg, and lit the cigar; but not another word did he utter until a thunder of hoofs disturbed the hot silence of the afternoon. "Guess that's some of the boys comin' from the depot," whispered Mac. "They'll not suspicion you're here, Derry, an' I'll soon have a stampede by tellin' 'em the doc is loose among the bottles." True to his promise, he got rid of the thirsty ones quickly; for this smaller batch had not even awaited the departure of the train. "Air you awake, Derry?" he inquired, when he had crept back softly to his chair. "Yes." "What's this yarn about One-thumb Jake shootin' a rattler?" "I--don't know. He didn't shoot me, Mac. I got slammed on a rock, good and hard." "I on'y axed because I'm nearly fed up with Jake an' his gun-play." "Ah, quit it, you sleuth. Jake wouldn't pull his gun on me, not even at Marten's bidding." "He kin be the biggest damn fool in Bison when he's loaded. Anyhow, I'll take your say-so." There was another period of quietude, when brooding thought sat heavy on MacGonigal, and pain gnawed Power with its sharpest tooth. Then came the sound of galloping horses again, and Benson appeared, guiding a big man who rolled in his walk; for the fast canter had stirred many varieties of alcohol in an overburdened system. The private secretary's voice was raised in order that the others might hear. "I would advise you to bandage the limb sufficiently to give Mr. Power some sort of ease until Dr. Stearn comes from Denver," he was urging. "I am sure that Mr. Marten would wish this case to be attended by his own doctor, and I know that Dr. Stearn attends him." "Stearn! What does that old mutt know about surgery?" shouted Peters. "I could set a compound fracture while he was searching around for his eyeglasses.... Hullo, Mac! You're always the right man in the right place. Bring me a highball, to clear the dust out of the pipes." "You jest fix Derry first, Peters, an' you kin hev two highballs." The red-whiskered man, whose medical degree was a blend of sheer impudence and a good deal of rough-and-ready experience, knew MacGonigal so well that he did not attempt to argue. "Very well," he said sulkily. "Break up an egg box, and saw it into eighteen-inch lengths, four inches wide. You have a roll of lint and scissors? I'll rip up his trousers, and have a look at the place." His actions were decided, but somewhat awkward. When Power winced because of a careless handling of the injured limb, he only guffawed.