w if that mental telepathy were
working right now it would be handing the things passing in your head
something like this: 'Why in hell can't that damned dope merchant, and
that dandy woman who don't know better than to waste her time being his
wife, come right along and fix something so Nita and the kiddie ain't
left lonesome and unprotected while I'm away.' That's the kind of
message I'd be getting from you. And you'd be getting one from me
something in this way: 'If I don't screw up the two measly cents' worth
of courage I've got, and go right across to Steve, and put the
proposition Millie and I are crazy to make, why--why, Millie'll beat my
brains out with a flat iron, and generally make things eternally
unpleasant.' Having got these messages satisfactorily you and I would
have set out--on the same path, mind. We'd have met right here: I should
have said, 'Steve, my boy, your little gal Nita and that bright little
bit of a bottle worrier you call your baby are coming right over to make
their homes with Millie, and the gals, and me, till you get back. We're
going to do just the best we know for them--same as we would for our
own. It's going to be a real comfort for us to have them, and something
more than a pleasure, and if you don't let 'em come--well, we'll be most
damnably disappointed!' And you, being a straight, sound-thinking man in
the main, but with a heap of notions that aren't always sound, but
which you can't just help, would say: 'See, right here, Doc, I don't
approve boosting my burdens on other folks' shoulders. That's not my
way, but anyway I'll be mighty thankful not to disappoint you, and to go
away feeling my bits of property aren't lying around at the mercy of a
country, and a race of folk that'll always remain a blot on any
Creator's escutcheon!' Having said all this we'd likely go on talking
for awhile about the folks and things we know, such as the men of our
acquaintance who reckon they're white, and the rotten acts they do
because rye whisky and the climate of the Northland's killed the only
shreds of conscience they ever had. And then--why, maybe then we just
part, and go back to our work feeling what darn fine fellers we are, and
how almighty glad we are we aren't as--the other folk."

The smile which the doctor's whimsical manner had provoked in Steve's
eyes was good to see. An overwhelming gratitude urged him to verbal
thanks, but somehow a great feeling deep down on his heart forbade such