Chapter IX. The Ride up the Bow

Having once agreed to the proposal of a ride up the Bow, the doctor lost no time in making the necessary preparations. Half an hour later he found himself in the stable consulting with Billy. His mood was gloomy and his language reflected his mood. Gladly would he have escaped what to him, he felt, would be a trying and prolonged ordeal. But he could not do this without exciting the surprise of his friends and possibly wounding the sensitive girl whom he would gladly give his life to serve. He resolved that at all costs he would go through with the thing.

"I'll give her a good time, by Jingo! if I bust something," he muttered as he walked up and down the stable picking out his mounts. "But for a compound, double-opposed, self-adjusting jackass, I'm your choice. Lost my first chance. Threw it clean away and queered myself with her first shot. I say, Billy," he called, "come here."

"What's up, Doc?" said Billy.

"Kick me, Billy," said the doctor solemnly.

"Well now, Doc, I--"

"Kick me, Billy, good and swift."

"Don't believe I could give no satisfaction, Doc. But there's that Hiram mule, he's a high class artist. You might back up to him."

"No use being kicked, Billy, by something that wouldn't appreciate it," said Martin.

"Don't guess that way, Doc. He's an ornery cuss, he'd appreciate it all right, that old mule. But Doc, what's eatin' you?"

"Oh, nothing, Billy, except that I'm an ass, an infernal ass."

"An ass, eh? Then I guess I couldn't give you no satisfaction. You better try that mule."

"Well, Billy, the horses at two," said the doctor briskly, "the broncho and that dandy little pinto."

"All serene, Doc. Hope you'll have a good time. Brace up, Doc, it's comin' to you." Billy's wink conveyed infinitely more than his words.

"Look here, Billy, you cut that all out," said the doctor.

"All right, Doc, if that's the way you feel. You'll see no monkey- work on me. I'll make a preacher look like a sideshow."

And truly Billy's manner was irreproachable as he stood with the ponies at the hotel door and helped their riders to mount. There was an almost sad gravity in his demeanor that suggested a mind preoccupied with solemn and unworldly thoughts with which the doctor and his affairs had not even the remotest association.

As Cameron who, with his wife, watched their departure from the balcony above, waved them farewell, he cried, "Keep your eyes skinned for an Indian, Martin. Bring him in if you find him."

"I've got no gun on me," replied the doctor, "and if I get sight of him, you hear me, I'll make for the timber quick. No heroic captures for me this trip."