boss and----"

"No, no!" says he. "I'm getting along all right. I've been a little
lonesome; but I'll pull through."

"You ought to be doin' some doctorin', though," says I.

He shrugs his shoulders again and waves one hand. "What's the use?" says
he. "They told me at the hospital there wasn't any help. No, I'll just
stay here and plug it out by myself."

Talk about clear grit, eh! And maybe you can frame up my feelin's when he
insists there ain't a thing I can do for him. About then, too, I hears
'em shoutin' from the car for me to come along, as they're all ready to
start again. So all I does is swap grips with Beany, get off some fool
speech about wishin' him luck, and leave him standin' there in the potato
field.

Somehow I didn't enjoy the rest of that day's run very much, and when
they jollies me by askin' who's my scarecrow acquaintance I couldn't work
myself up to tellin' 'em about him. But all I could think of was Beany
back there pokin' around alone in the fog that was settlin' down thicker
and thicker every day. And in the course of two or three hours I had a
thought.

"Pinckney," says I, as we was puttin' up in Newport, "you know all sorts
of crackerjacks. Got any expert eye doctors on your list?"

He chews that over a minute or so, and concludes that he has, a Dr. Jason
Craige, who's right here in town.

"He's the real thing, is he?" says I.

"Most skillful oculist in the country," says Pinckney, "and charges
accordingly."

"As high as fifty a throw?" says I.

"Fifty!" says Pinckney. "You should see his Cliff Walk cottage."

"Let's," says I. "There's a friend of mine I'd like to have him take a
look at to-morrow."

"No use," says Pinckney. "He drops his practice entirely during his
vacation; wouldn't treat an Emperor then, I've heard him say. He's a good
deal of a crank on that--and billiards."

"But see here, Pinckney," says I, and I goes on to give him the whole
tale about Beany, puttin' it over as strong as I knew how.

"Sorry," says Pinckney; "but I know of no way in which I could induce him
to change his custom. He's Scotch, you know, and as obstinate as---- Hold
on, Shorty! I've an idea. How strong will you back my game of
billiards?"

Now of all the erratic cue performers I ever watched, Pinckney gets the
medal. There's times when he can nurse 'em along the cushion and run up
quite a string, and then again I've seen him play a game any duffer'd be
ashamed of. But I begins to smel