"Dat ar thing's got a debbil in 'um sure, an' yoh ain' git no better er one debbil by mixin' 'um up wid anuffer--no, _sah_!" "Peter," I said, "you are too conservative." "I d'know dat. I d'know dat! De debbil's de dibbil, an' dar ain' no good yet come er mixin' up wid him. 'Tain' in de Bible nor 'tain' in nature, an' I ain' holdin' wid no such dealin's." "Well, Pete, I'm going to back my devil against your rabbit's foot, anyhow." Pete looked suspicious. "Who's been talkin' 'bout rabbit's foots, doctah?" "No one. Turn your pockets out, Pete!" His hand clapped involuntarily to the side of his trousers. "I got ter put dat harness away, an' I ain' got the time t' be hindered in! Sholy to Gawd, doctah, yoh ain' s'pose _I_ carry no trash like that!" He straightened himself with dignity, hanging the harness up on its pegs. I finished my job and went into the surgery. I had written to the city for the drug I wanted for Lessing. It arrived yesterday, and I had made up the powders. They were lying on the desk with a rubber band about them, and the packet caught my eye as I came in. I called to Pete. "I want you to take a prescription over to Mr. Lessing," I said. "You can take the buckboard and bring back that sack of feed from Sliefer's at the same time." I held the packet out to him. He eyed first it, then me. "Well?" I said impatiently. "I'se gwine, I'se gwine. I was thinkin' on'y dis mawnin' how dat feed done oughter be fetched. Yessir, I was sayin' dat out in de car'ge-house. It done oughter be fetched _today_." "It'll be right on your road after you leave Mr. Lessing's." "Yessir, dat so! On'y dat packet, doctah ... I was jest considerin' dat packet. Ef I was to put dat packet in de buckboard longer de feed sack I'd be right scared 'er losing it. It don't seem to me, doctah, dat 'ar packet gwine t' be very safe dat way." "But you've got a pocket, you old idiot!" "Yessir, I done got pockets. I was on'y jest a-studyin', doctah. I don' recommend pockets, not when a pusson's got a commission to 'tend to. When a pusson puts suthin' in his pocket, it happens sometime dat a pusson's gwine _forget_ it." "If it happens to you," I assured him, "I'll find a way of operating on your memory, so you'd better be careful!" He took the packet without more ado and went off to get the buckboard ready. It was too fine a day to waste about the house, and I had it in mind to take the cycle out for a spin. Telling Mrs. Searle I would probably be away for lunch, I got into my cycling suit and set off. I followed the road for some distance past the Bend, and then branched off to the right, joining the Pike. The machine was in good running order, and I did some twenty miles before I slowed up finally at a little village with the hope of getting something to eat.