octor had given many hours to this case, riding
back and forward from the fort every day, but all this he would not have
grudged could he have had his way with his patient.

"Well, I have done my best," he said, "and now I must go back to my
work."

"I know, doctor, I know," pleaded Mandy. "You have been most kind and
I thank you from my heart." She rose and offered him her hand. "Don't
think me too awfully obstinate, and please forgive me if you do."

The doctor took the outstretched hand grudgingly.

"Obstinate!" he exclaimed. "Of all the obstinate creatures--"

"Oh, I am afraid I am. But I don't want to be unreasonable. You see, the
boy is so splendidly plucky and such a fine chap."

The doctor grunted.

"He is a fine chap, doctor, and I can't bear to have him crippled,
and--" She paused abruptly, her lips beginning to quiver. She was near
the limit of her endurance.

"You would rather have him dead, eh? All right, if that suits you better
it makes no difference to me," said the doctor gruffly, picking up his
bag. "Good-by."

"Doctor, you will come back again to-morrow?"

"To-morrow? Why should I come back to-morrow? I can do no more--unless
you agree to amputation. There is no use coming back to-morrow. I have
other cases waiting on me. I can't give all my time to this Indian." The
contempt in the doctor's voice for a mere Indian stung her like a whip.
On Mandy's cheek, pale with her long vigil, a red flush appeared and
in her eye a light that would have warned the doctor had he known her
better.

"Is not this Indian a human being?" she asked quietly.

But the doctor was very impatient and anxious to be gone.

"A human being? Yes, of course, a human being, but there are human
beings and human beings. But if you mean an Indian is as good as a white
man, frankly I don't agree with you."

"You have given a great deal of your time, doctor," said Mandy with
quiet deliberation, "and I am most grateful. I can ask no more for THIS
INDIAN. I only regret that I have been forced to ask so much of your
time. Good-by." There was a ring as of steel in her voice. The doctor
became at once apologetic.

"What--eh?--I beg your pardon," he stammered.

"It is not at all necessary. Thank you again for all your service.
Good-by."

"Eh? I don't quite--"

"Good-by, doctor, and again thank you."

"Well, you know quite well I can't do any more," said the old doctor
crossly.

"No, I don't think you can."

"Eh--wha