When a babe was to be born anywhere for miles around, she was there. Sometimes she was the lone attendant, and again she helped Dr. Taylor, who had been in the valley from the beginning; and more than once she worked with some young doctor who was so panicky because the baby didn't hurry that she would have to tell him to keep his feet on the ground, and that millions of babies had been born before a doctor or a medical college had ever been discovered. One night at midnight she waked up one of the boys, and told him that his father was out saddling the pony, and that he must go for Dr. Woods, who lived about five miles to the west. The boy finally wakened up and got his clothes on, and found that she was just ready to leave with a neighbor for his home, and that someone must go for the doctor. The pony had been saddled by that time, and was tied with a heavy rope to a tree near the door. The boy put on plenty of clothes and then mounted the pony, while his father held the little beast to keep him from standing on his head. The father pointed to the seven stars then showing up in the southern sky and told the boy to keep them to his left and to ride until he had crossed the railroad, and then go up to the first house and yell until someone came out so that he could inquire for the home of Dr. Woods. The directions being given, the pony was untied and turned loose, with the end of the rope fastened to the horn of the saddle. Of course the pony ran off for about a mile, but the boy kept him headed in the right direction, and after a while he slowed down and made the journey in good shape. When Dr. Woods was roused he made the boy come in and get warm while he got his horse, and together they rode back, and long before day the doctor had joined Mother Newcomer at the neighbor's house. Dr. Taylor still lives at his old home about three miles north of the stone bridge. He is a fine type of the pioneer doctor, and he not only knows the books, but he knows men and women, and especially Kansas men and women; and more than that, he knows Kansas and its climate, its tricks, and its good moods and its bad ones. For nearly fifty years he has ministered to the sick and the afflicted, and those who thought they were sick or afflicted, along the roads and trails of Wakarusa; and none could do it better or more faithfully. Doctor Woods was of the same type. He always traveled horseback, usually riding a large, strong, rough horse; and he knew the bridle-paths, and where to ford the streams.