"Humph!" The doctor's exclamation spoke volumes. His eyes had widened back of their lenses at the tone and manner of Stone's speech, hardly to be expected from so uncouth an object.
"My name, by the way, is Stone," said the latter. "Harvey here is guide and mining expert for Healy there on the bed, Larkin, and myself. I am not trying to set aside your splendid kindliness, doctor, but we shall be glad to pay for any trouble and expense we have put you to."
The doctor nodded.
That's all right," he said, shortly but courteously. "You go up to the house. I may have to amputate. Depends upon whether he responds to treatment. It is more fever than actual gangrene, I hope. I'll see you later."
At the main building the doctor's wife, motherly and efficient, had already been appraised of their arrival and had prepared such simple food as was to be permitted them. They were served in a dining room that looked east toward the desert through which they had passed, the bulk of the big, lonely butte showing purple back of the cactus foreground. The girl disappeared.
"You'll want to sleep after your swim," she said. "I'll see you later. I want to talk to you about Mary Leslie," she added to Stone.
"'Oo's Mary Leslie?" asked Larkin between mouthfuls of chicken broth.
"A friend of Miss Furniss," Stone answered, enigmatically.
