inute; only awfully thirsty."

Kate steadied him down the dark stairs, fearful he might fall over her
as she went ahead. Secrecy of movement seemed to have no significance
for him. If his friends were disturbed, Laramie was not. He evidently
knew the harness room, for he opened the blind door with hardly any
hesitation and stepped into the office. The office was empty but the
street door of the stable was open. McAlpin stood in the gang-way
talking to some man who evidently caught a glimpse of Laramie, for he
said rudely and loud enough for Kate to hear: "Hell, McAlpin! There
comes your dead man now!"

Kate recognized the heavy voice of Carpy and shrank back. The doctor,
McAlpin behind him dumbly staring, confronted Laramie at the door:
"What are you doin' here, Jim?" he demanded.

"What would I be doing anywhere?" retorted Laramie.

"Go back to your den. This man says you're dying."

"Well, I'm not getting much encouragement at it--I've been waiting for
you three hours to help things along. I'm done with the hay."

"Looking for a feather bed to die in. Some men are blamed particular."
As he spoke Carpy caught his first glimpse of Kate. "Hello! There's
the pretty little girl from the great big ranch. No wonder the man's
up and coming--what did you send for me for, McAlpin? Where you
heading, Jim?"

With his hands on the door jambs, Carpy effectually barred the exit.
Knowing his stubborn patient well, he humored him, to the verge of
letting him have his own way, but with much raillery denied him the
drug store trip. A compromise was effected. Laramie consented to go
to Belle's to get something to eat. In this way, refusing help, the
obdurate patient was got to walk to the cottage.

"Don't let him fall on y'," McAlpin cautioned Kate, as the two followed
close behind. "I helped carry him upstairs. He's a ton o' brick."

But Laramie, either incensed by his condition--the idea of any escort
being vastly unpleasant to him--or animated by the stiff hypodermics of
profanity that Carpy injected into the talk as they crossed the street,
did not even stumble; he held his way unaided, met Belle's amazement
unresponsively and, sitting down, called for something to eat.

"How does he do it, Doc?" whispered McAlpin, craning forward from the
background.

"Pure, damned nerve," muttered Carpy. "But he does it."

They got him into bed. While the doctor was excavating the channel
ripped through his should