id yesterday," he explained, "it was mountain fever, and he wants to
put me into an ice-pack."

Bucks objected vigorously to the ice-pack.

"The doctor tells me that it is the latest treatment for that class of
fevers in the Prussian army," answered McCloud feebly, but getting
interested in spite of himself.

"That's a good thing, no doubt, for the Prussian army," replied Bucks,
"but, McCloud, in the first place, you are not a Dutchman; in the
second, you have not got mountain fever--not in my judgment."

McCloud, confident now that he had an insane man on his hands, held
his peace.

"Not a symptom of mountain fever," continued Bucks calmly; "you have
what looks to me like gastritis, but the homeopaths," he added, "have
a better name for it. Is it stomatitis, McCloud? I forget."

The sick man, confounded by such learning, determined to try one
question, and, if he was at fault, to drag his gun from under his
pillow and sell his life as dearly as possible. Summoning his waning
strength, he looked hard at Bucks. "Just let me ask you one question.
I never saw you before. Are you a doctor?"

"No, I'm a railroad man; my name is Bucks." McCloud rose half up in
bed with amazement. "They'll kill you if you lie here a week,"
continued Bucks. "In just a week. Now I'll tell you my plan. I'll take
you down in the morning in my car to Medicine Bend; this barber will
go with us. There in the hospital you can get everything you need, and
I can make you comfortable. What do you say?"

McCloud looked at his benefactor solemnly, but if hope flickered for
an instant in his eyes it soon died. Bucks said afterward that he
looked like a cold-storage squab, just pinfeathers and legs. "Shave
him clean," said he, "and you could have counted his teeth through his
cheeks."

The sick man turned his face to the wall. "It's kind enough," he
muttered, "but I guess it's too late."

Bucks did not speak for some time. Twilight had faded above the hills,
and only the candle lighted the room. Then the master of mountain men,
grizzled and brown, turned his eyes again to the bed. McCloud was
staring at the ceiling.

"We have a town of your name down on the plains, McCloud," said Bucks,
blowing away the cigar smoke after the long silence. "It is one of our
division points, and a good one."

"I know the town," responded McCloud. "It was named after one of our
family."

"I guess not."

"It was, though," said McCloud wearily.

"I think," re