The Doc arose, anger glinting in his eyes from the memory of a former indignity. "Well, what do you want?" he growled. "Framing up another kidnapping?"
"There you go," accused Johnny in great disgust. "You shore hop on th' prod as quick as any man I ever knowed. I only come down to ask you how soon Arnold can get out of bed an' get some use of that laig of his'n."
"I don't know," replied the Doc "Not knowing, I wouldn't care to say. I've not been out there since."
"He's all ribbed to get up," continued Johnny. "An' there's this about things: Folks that act square with me allus find that I act square with them. An' I'm tellin' you that them fellers will mebby be plumb lucky durin' th' next few weeks. I've been foolin' a lot down here—holdin' back, sort of; but I quit foolin' th' day I went down an' dug Wolf out of his outfit. I'm aimin' to be serious these days. You said you don't know about Arnold—but it ain't much of a job to make shore, is it? You only got to take th' rough goin' dead east of this shack for a little ways until you get into Green Valley—an' from there on th' ridin' is easy. There's too much confusion along th' reg'lar trail with them touchy Double X punchers ridin' around up there. An' if you left right away you could get back in plenty of time for yore supper. Looks like yo're movin'?"
"I am," replied the other. "I might go down to Highbank, and start practicing."
"You might," admitted Johnny; "but I'm sayin' that you don't have to go to th' Bar H ranchhouse to keep out of trouble. I've passed you my word—you play square with me an' you'll mebby find this shack is safer for you than that ranchhouse ever will be if you don't play square. I'm meanin' this, Doc."
"I don't see where the question of safety comes in at all. I've found this place pretty lonely, sometimes, and I'm getting tired of it. What's more, I'm squatting on the SV range."
"I'm glad to hear you say that last, an' I reckon mebby it is lonely," replied Johnny, "'though it shouldn't be. Yo're only a couple of miles from town, an' you got a good cayuse. There's some good boys up in town, too. You ought to ride in more often an' get friendly 'stead of holin' up like a bear dodgin' th' winter. An' as for squattin', why I'll say th' SV won't say nothin' at all to you about that, 'specially after you tells some of th' boys in town that you are only squattin' down here an' don't lay no claim to this land. Doc, th' time is shore comin' when nearly everybody on this range will be choosin' sides or settin' on th' fence—an' them as takes to th' fence should set awful tight an' still. But gettin' back to my reason for visitin' you: I reckon Arnold is plumb sick of layin' abed; I'm shore I'd be. You can't say when he should get up?"
The Doc was looking at him intently and his frown had slowly disappeared. He was no fool, had no real affection for Big Tom, and he was beginning to see a great light. He turned deliberately, yanked the knot loose and let the blanket open and spread out over the floor. Picking up his bag, he considered a moment. "Hazarding a guess, I'd say that he has another week in bed. Did you notice any fever, any flush, or anything else that seemed abnormal to you?" he asked.