s, though," agreed the hotel man. "Where you
been?"

"Oh, just prospecting," I replied vaguely.

"Strike it?"

"Just fair," I evaded; "not rich enough to keep me from coming back, you
see. Any finds here?"

"The diggings are rich as mud," replied the hotel man dispassionately.
"It's a prosperous camp all right."

"You don't 'wash' yourself?" I asked.

"Not I! I make more than my 'ounce a day' right here." He jerked his
thumb at his hotel.

"A good many 'loafers,'" I suggested.

He looked at me steadily, hesitated for a moment, then evidently changed
his mind.

"Quite a few," he agreed.

At this moment the negro boy appeared, closely followed by the man with
the blue coat and white beaver hat whom I had taken for an eccentric
gambler. This man walked slowly up to face me.

"Well, sir?" he demanded. "I am told I can be of service. In what way?"

His piercing black eye held mine with a certain high arrogance.

"Professionally, doctor," I replied. "A friend of mine is lying badly
hurt in a nearby hut."

For a barely appreciable instant his eye held mine after I had ceased
speaking, as though he was appraising me. Then he bowed with
old-fashioned courtesy.

"At your service, sir," said he. "Pete, you black rascal, get my bag,
and get it quick."

The little negro, who had stood by obviously worshipping, broke into a
grin and darted into the hotel, almost instantly reappearing with a
regulation professional satchel.

"At your service, sir," repeated Dr. Rankin.

We took our stately progress up the street, through the deep red dust.
The hot sun glared down upon us, reflecting from the surface of the
earth in suffocating heat. Hard as I was, I flushed and perspired. The
doctor never turned a hair. As we passed one of the saloons a huge,
hairy man lurched out, nearly colliding with us. He was not drunk, but
he was well flushed with drink. His mood was evidently ugly, for he
dropped his hand to the butt of his revolver, and growled something
truculent at me, glaring through bloodshot eyes. Dr. Rankin, who had
stepped back to avoid collision, spoke up:

"Malone," said he, "I told you a week ago that you have to stop drinking
or come to me. I repeat it."

He turned his keen black eyes upon the big man, and stepped forward. The
big man muttered something and moved aside.

Arrived at the hut of the Morenas, for that it seemed was the name of
our host and hostess, Dr. Rankin laid aside his furry beaver hat,