"Oh! and I forgot the medicine chest," exclaimed Margaret. "Yes, he has an attentive nurse, Mrs. Cassidy. We took him to the LaFrance place. And I must get that medicine chest from Whitby's kit and send it over. Where are Whitby's things, Mrs. Cassidy?"
"They 're in th' bunk-house. Murray will get them for you. So Buck is there? Did you see the French Rose, Miss McAllister?"
"Yes, haven't you? She is lovely; so serious and calm and strong. In some way she makes you feel that she is sure to do the right thing at the right time. Oh, I like her, immensely."
"Liking goes by contrasts," sleepily reminded Mrs. Blake. Mary smiled no less at Margaret's grimace than at Mrs. Blake's pointed sarcasm.
"She has n't been to the ranch since we-all came," said Mary. "Buck says she rid over quite often afore that. I 'm glad Rose is 'tendin' him; from what I hear of her he could n't be in better hands."
"Mr. Peters seemed glad, too," said Margaret, suggestively; "and Miss LaFrance did not seem at all sorry."
Before Mary could respond to Margaret's unspoken question, the door opened with a bang and Pickles rushed in. "Been a-helpin' them sheep with th' trunks," he informed them. "Where's Hopalong? Did he find Buck? That cacklin' Murray has forgot how to crow; he on'y grunts."
"Hopalong has gone after Dave. He shot Buck," answered Mary.
"Not dead!" Pickles was aghast.
"No, only wounded."