"Bet he's got a wad of wool soaked with that there chloryfoam. Somebody ride herd on him," laughed Fraser, but he was tense. It was the first time anyone had seen the Doc and Johnny together since the kidnapping had been explained, and anything was possible.
"I'm not collecting buttons," retorted the Doc, smiling. "Hello, boys! Hello, Dave! Say, Fraser, I wish you would tell Big Tom not to send in the wagon for me; I've changed my mind. I got a hurt leg, and it won't be right for nearly a week. Set out a round on me, Dave; I'll drink mine and hurry along. I just rode up to get word to Tom. Dave, you should use something milder when you load this whiskey—ever try nitric?"
"Don't you do it, Dave!" expostulated Dailey in alarm. "I can't hardly taste it now."
The Doc looked at him, shook his head sadly, said good night, and went out.
"He didn't act like his laig was hurt," remarked Fraser wonderingly. "But you can't never tell nothin' about him; he's a queer bird. An' changeable? There ain't no cussed word for it."
"I've often wondered how he made a livin'," said Johnny curiously.
"Well, I'll be cussed!" snorted Dailey incredulously. "You have been here all this time an' don't know that? Huh! Th' Doc is a sort of self-actin' remittance man. He's got a wad banked back East, an' once a month I cash a check for him."
"Two pairs," muttered Fanning, scratching his head, and telling the truth to mislead his opponents. "That was what I was askin' about. Well, I'll see it an' add a blue."
"Any time you raise a blue, you got two pairs, all right!" snorted Dailey. "Two pairs, deuces up!" He held up a finger warningly. "I hears hosses' feets," he chuckled. "Move over, Gurley, an' give th' visitors a chance to edge in."