, waving the coat at Weary. "You see dass?
Mine coat, she ruint; dass was new coat!"

"All right--I'll take your word for it, Dock. Tell me what's good for
tin--"

"Aw, I knows you fellers. You t'inke Ole Dock, she Dock, she don'd
know nothings! You t'ink--"

Weary sighed and turned to the crowd. "Which end of a jag is this?" he
wanted to know. "I've got to get some uh that dope-wisdom out uh him,
somehow. Patsy's a goner, sure, if I don't connect with some medicine."

The men crowded close and asked questions which Weary felt bound to
answer; everyone knew Patsy, who was almost as much a part of Dry Lake
scenery as was Old Dock, and it was gratifying to a Flying-U man to see
the sympathy in their faces. But Patsy needed something more potent
than sympathy, and the minutes were passing.

Old Dock still discoursed whimperingly upon the subject of his ruined
coat and the meanness of mankind, and there was no weaning his interest
for a moment, try as Weary would. And fifteen miles away in a
picturesque creek-bottom a man lay dying in great pain for want of one
little part of the wisdom stored uselessly away in the brain of this
drunken, doddering old man.

Weary's gloved hand dropped in despair from Old Dock's bent shoulder.
"Damn a drunkard!" he said bitterly, and got into the saddle. "Rusty,
I'll want to borrow that calico cayuse uh yours. Have him saddled up
right away, will yuh? I'll be back in a little bit."

He jerked his hat down to his eyebrows and struck Glory with the quirt;
but the trail he took was strange to Glory and he felt impelled to stop
and argue--as only Glory could argue--with his master. Minutes passed
tumultuously, with nothing accomplished save some weird hoof-prints in
the sod. Eventually, however, Glory gave over trying to stand upon his
head and his hind feet at one and the same instant, and permitted
himself to be guided toward a certain tiny, low-eaved cabin in a meadow
just over the hill from the town.

Weary was not by nature given to burglary, but he wrenched open the
door of the cabin and went in with not a whisper of conscience to say
him nay. It was close and ill-smelling and very dirty inside, but
after the first whiff Weary did not notice it. He went over and
stopped before a little, old-fashioned chest; it was padlocked, so he
left that as a last resort and searched elsewhere for what he
wanted--medicine. Under the bed he found a flat, black case, such as
old