“Yesterday afternoon, sir.”
“Well, well; that beats me. ’Squire Hardy is behind it. For some reason he does not like you, and I had rather have half of the town against me than the ’squire. What do you propose to do about it?”
“We haven’t decided yet, sir.”
“Let me see! Ha, that’s it! I tell you what I would do inside of an hour. Move up into the old red house. That happens to stand over the line in another town, and I do not believe you will be troubled there. At any rate, the authorities of Basinburg cannot disturb you, as long as you do no harm inside its boundaries.”
Rob was quick to catch upon this information, and it gave him a ray of hope immediately.
“You are very kind, sir, and we shall do as you say. But I do not know how we can get the sick ones up there.”
“Got sick ones, have you? Let me see them. As I didn’t come up here professionally there will be no charge.”
Dr. Menter here left his carriage, and while Chick stood by his horse, he followed Rob into the camp, where Mr. Little was suffering on his primitive couch. Upon entering the low, damp place the good physician could not refrain from uttering sundry ejaculations and comments on the dreary situation.
“A well man could not live here without being sick. I should judge, my dear man, that you had been living in some place just like this before. Yours is a bad case of low circulation, with rheumatism and its kindred complaints hanging over you. What you need more than medicine is fresh air and sunlight and cold water. Why, man, if you will take a cold water bath, with a good, smart rubbing with a coarse towel, every morning, get all the sun you can, and just drink in the rarefied air of Break o’ Day for six months, I’ll warrant you will be at work in the cabbage patch with the boys.”
“God knows I wish I could, doctor.”