in hushed tones; for the minute
he hated the white-bearded old man whose drunkenness had cost the
Flying-U so dear. He slipped wearily from the saddle and let the reins
drop to the ground. Happy Jack still eyed them silently.

"Well?" asked Weary, when his nerves would bear no more.

"When I git sick," said Happy Jack, his voice heavy with reproach,
"I'll send you for help--if I want to die."

"Is he dead?" questioned Weary, in hopeless fashion.

"Well," said Happy Jack deliberately, "no, he ain't dead yet--but it's
no thanks to you. Was it poker, or billiards? and who won?"

Weary looked at him dully a moment before he comprehended. He had not
had any supper or any deep, and he had ridden many miles in the long
hours he had been away. He walked, with a pronounced limp on the leg
which had been next the medicine-case, to where Dock stood leaning
shakily against the pinto.

"Maybe we're in time, after all," he said slowly. "Here's some kind uh
dried stuff I got off the ceiling; I thought maybe yuh might need
it--you're great on Indian weeds." He pulled a crumpled, faintly
aromatic bundle of herbs from his pocket.

Dock took it and sniffed disgustedly, and dropped the herbs
contemptuously to the ground. "Dat not wort' notting--she what you
call--de--cat_neep_." He smiled sourly.

Weary cast a furtive glance at Happy Jack, and hoped he had not
overheard. Catnip! Still, how could he be expected to know what the
blamed stuff was? He untied the black medicine-case and brought it and
put it at the feet of Old Dock. "Well, here's the joker, anyhow," he
said. "It like to wore a hole clear through my leg, but I was careful
and I don't believe any uh the bottles are busted."

Dock looked at it and sat heavily down upon a box. He looked at the
case queerly, then lifted his shaggy head to gaze up at Weary. And
behind the bleared gravity of his eyes was something very like a
twinkle. "Dis, she not cure seek mans, neider. She--" He pressed a
tiny spring which Weary had not discovered and laid the case open upon
the ground. "You see?" he said plaintively. "She not good for
Patsy--she tree-dossen can-openaire."

Weary stared blankly. Happy Jack came up, looked and doubled
convulsively. Can-openers! Three dozen of them. Old Dock was
explaining in his best English, and he was courteously refraining from
the faintest smile.

"Dey de new, bettaire kind. I send for dem, I t'ink maybe I sell. I
put he