nion whose
follower he was in everything save foot-racing. In that he would give way
to no one, not excluding the trained Indian runners who sometimes came to
the neighboring village.

"Easy, easy!" Dr. Cartwright sang out, the boys nearly colliding with him
as he was driving from his dooryard. "Somebody dying?" he asked as the
runners halted.

"Jim Huson's been hurt; they want you at the store, quick," Ree Kingdom
breathlessly explained.

"Badly?" asked the doctor with provoking deliberation, drawing on his
gloves.

"Pretty nigh killed, I guess; Big Pete Ellis did it," put in John Jerome,
amazed that the physician did not at once drive off at lightning speed.

"And they want me to finish the job do they?" smiled Dr. Cartwright, who
was never known to become excited. "Well, I'll see what I can do. Daisy,
get up."

The latter words were for the faithful mare that had drawn the doctor's
chaise, or two-wheeled carriage, summer and winter for so many years that
she was as well known as the physician himself. The horse set off at a
leisurely jog, but the master's second "Get up Daisy," though drawled out
as if haste were the last thing to be thought of, quickened the animal's
speed to a lively trot.

The boys started back at a walk, speculating on what could have provoked
Big Pete's assault and how serious Jim Huson's injury might be.

"It upsets all our plans," said John; "for Jim was just the fellow to
tell us the price of everything and just what western emigrants should
take along. We can't talk to Mr. Rice about our going, as we could talk
to Jim."

"Mr. Rice is so excitable he may have thought Huson worse hurt than he
is," Ree answered. "Anyway, we are not to start for three weeks, and Jim
may be up and around long before we go. So don't be blue. There is more
than one way to skin a cat. If we can't have Jim's advice we can talk
with some one else, or use our own judgment as to what we must buy. In
the end we will have to depend entirely on ourselves as to what we should
or should not do, anyway; but come what may, three weeks from this very
Monday, we shall go, if we live and have our health."

"Bully for you, Ree! In three weeks our faces will be turned toward the
setting sun!"

"Our backs will be toward the rising sun in three weeks, less one day,"
Ree answered. "But scamper along; let's get back to the store and find
out first how Jim was hurt and how badly. It will be a sorry job for Pete
Ellis, if