Bab wrung the rain out of his hair and grinned at Hi.
“Maybe I am,” he said, “and maybe I ain’t. But one thing’s certain: I’m going to set that there arm of yours, son.” To Jim he said, “You go find me a shingle. Rip one off the house if you can’t do any other way, and I’ll take the liberty of tearing up one of your ma’s old sheets.” He bustled about the cabin getting everything in readiness, and then he came over to Hi, smiling curiously.
“’Twon’t be very bad,” he said almost tenderly. He stooped over him and seemed to tap him gently on the jaw somewhere below the ear. Jim couldn’t make out what was going on. Suddenly Hi seemed to be asleep, and he was making no objection at all as Buck Bab’s great hands busied themselves with drawing the broken arm from the coat and shirt that hampered them.
“What have you done, Buck Bab!” demanded Jim, thoroughly frightened. “What’s the matter with Hi?”
“Now, don’t worry, McBirney,” answered Bab gruffly. “I just fixed your friend so he wouldn’t be inconvenienced by what I’m about to do. He’s just taking a little nap to order. He’ll be all right in a minute or two, and by that time I’ll have his arm set as tight as a trap. You didn’t want to hear his hollering and crying, did you?”
“No—o,” said Jim doubtfully. He drew nearer to his friend and stood there ready to give any help that Bab should need.
In ten minutes it was all over. The arm was in place and held there safely with bandages and splints. Hi’s wet clothes had been dragged from him and he had been wrapped in a warm blanket. His eyes began to flutter and a sick look to come into his white face.
“Lie still,” growled Bab to him, “and think of nothing. And you, McBirney, I suppose you come up here to look after the stock. Well, get out that lantern and find the milk pails, and I’ll help you. After we’ve fixed up the animals, we’ll get some supper.”
“Well,” thought Jim to himself, as he obeyed the man, “who would believe it? I know pa wouldn’t, and I don’t believe ma would, though she always says there’s some good in everybody. Buck Bab a moonshiner, and not denying it! And yet here he is, helping me out! It seems like a night with a lot of queer dreams in it. Oh, my! Poor Zalie! Oh, Zalie, where can you be!”