adjusted her hat before a mirror. It was the first practical
test of her theoretical knowledge of bone-setting and because of some
misgivings her swagger was a little more pronounced than usual when she
accompanied him across the street.

The child lay upon the bunk in the front of the wagon and her eyes were
bright with the pain of the dull ache, and fear of more that the doctor
might inflict.

"Is it hurtin' bad, Rosie?" Anxiety was in the man's voice.

"Not so very much, Daddy," she replied bravely.

"Your young'un?"

The man glanced at Dr. Harpe quickly in a mixture of surprise and
resentment.

"My sister's--young'un," he answered curtly.

The child winced as Dr. Harpe picked up the foot roughly and ran her
fingers along the bone.

"Yep; it's broken." She hesitated for an instant and added: "The job'll
cost you fifty dollars."

"Fifty dollars!" Consternation was in the man's tone. "Ain't that pretty
steep for settin' a leg?"

"That's my price." She added indifferently, "There's another sawbones
sixty miles farther on."

"You know well enough that she can't wait to get there."

"Well," she shrugged her shoulder, "dig then."

"But I haven't got it," he pleaded.

"Sell a horse."

He looked to see if she was serious; undoubtedly she was.

"How am I to go on if I sell a horse?"

"That's your lookout."

He stared at her in real curiosity.

"What kind of a doctor are you, anyhow? What kind of a woman?"

"O Daddy--it's hurtin' worse!" moaned the child.

Dr. Harpe laughed disagreeably--

"I'm not in Crowheart for my health." Ignoring the displeasure which
came into the man's eyes, she suggested: "Can't you borrow from those
fellows that came with you?"

"They're strangers. We are all strangers to each other--we only fell in
together on the road. The one lying under the wagon was on a tear in the
last town; most likely he's broke."

The child in the bunk whimpered with the increasing pain.

"How much have you got yourself?" she haggled.

"Twenty-two dollars and fifty cents; it's _all_ I've got and we're a
hundred miles yet from the end of our road. I've got work there and I'll
give you my note and send the balance as soon as I earn it."

Twenty-two dollars and fifty cents--it was more than she anticipated,
but every extra dollar was "velvet" as she phrased it.

"See what you can do with that fellow outside."

The man's dark eyes flashed and his face went blood red, but he left the
wagon