"Were you really fooling, Ba'tiste—or shall we continue?"
"Perhaps—" the twinkle still shone in the old man's eyes—"but not now. Perhaps—sometime. So mebbe sometime you—"
"Wah—hah—hai-i-e-e-e!" The Sioux had called from without. Medaine turned.
"When you need me, Ba'tiste," she answered, with a smile that took in also the eager face on the bed, "I'll be glad to help you. Good-by."
That too included Barry, and he answered it with alacrity. Then for a moment after she had gone, he lay scowling at Ba'tiste, who once more, in a weakened state of merriment, had reeled to the wall, followed as usual by his dog, and leaned there, hugging his sides. Barry growled:
"You're a fine doctor! Just when you had me cured, you quit! I'd forgotten I even had a broken arm."
"So?" Ba'tiste straightened. "You like her, eh? You like the petite Medaine?"
"How can I help it?"
"Bon! Good! I like you to like Medaine. You no like Thayer?"
"Less every minute."