"How are you," and introduced
him to Mr. Fahey.

"Is Mr. Craigin ill?" inquired Fahey innocently.

"He has met with a slight accident," replied the doctor. "He is doing
well and will be about in a day or two."

"Accident?" snorted Maclennan; then clearing his throat as for a speech
he began in a loud tone, "Dr. Bailey, I must say--"

"Excuse me," said the doctor, opening the office door and marshalling
them outside, "we'd better go somewhere else if we are going to talk.
It is important that my patient should be kept perfectly quiet."
The doctor's air was so entirely respectful and at the same time
so masterful that Maclennan found himself walking meekly toward the
grub-house behind the doctor, with Fahey, the smile on his face broader
than ever, bringing up the rear. Maclennan caught the smile, but in the
face of the doctor's quiet, respectful manner he found it difficult to
rouse himself to wrath. He took refuge in bluster.

"Upon my word, Dr. Bailey," he burst forth when once they were inside
the grub-house, "it seems to me that you have carried things on with a
high hand in this camp. You come in here, a perfect stranger, you head a
mutiny, you lay up my foreman with a dangerous wound, with absolutely
no authority from anyone. What in the blank, blank do you mean, anyway?"
Maclennan was rather pleased to find himself at length taking fire.

"Mr. Maclennan," said the doctor quietly, "it is natural you should be
angry. Let me give you the facts before you pass your final judgment.
A man was sent to me from this camp in a dying condition. Diphtheria. I
learned there were others suffering here with the same disease. I came
in at once to offer assistance. Consulted with Dr. Haines. We came to a
practical agreement as to what ought to be done. Mr. Craigin objected.
There was some trouble. Unfortunately, Mr. Craigin was hurt."

"Dr. Bailey," said the General Manager, "it will save trouble if you
will go somewhat fully into the facts. We want an exact statement of
what occurred." The authoritative tone drew Dr. Bailey's attention to
the rugged face of the speaker, with its square forehead and bull-dog
jaw. He recognized at once that he had to deal with a man of more than
ordinary force, and he proceeded to give him an exact statement of all
that had happened, beginning with the death of Scotty Anderson.

"That is all, gentlemen," said the doctor, as he concluded his tale; "I
did what I considered was right. Prompt a