He indicated the two strangers, who shuffled their feet with embarrassment and looked more sheepish than ever.
Billy sat down on the bed, and while Saxon held the lamp, Bud and the strangers proceeded to cut coat, shirt, and undershirt from him.
“He wouldn't go to the receivin' hospital,” Bud said to Saxon.
“Not on your life,” Billy concurred. “I had 'em send for Doc Hentley. He'll be here any minute. Them two arms is all I got. They've done pretty well by me, an' I gotta do the same by them.—No medical students a-learnin' their trade on me.”
“But how did it happen?” Saxon demanded, looking from Billy to the two strangers, puzzled by the amity that so evidently existed among them all.
“Oh, they're all right,” Billy dashed in. “They done it through mistake. They're Frisco teamsters, an' they come over to help us—a lot of 'em.”
The two teamsters seemed to cheer up at this, and nodded their heads.
“Yes, missus,” one of them rumbled hoarsely. “It's all a mistake, an'... well, the joke's on us.”
“The drinks, anyway,” Billy grinned.
Not only was Saxon not excited, but she was scarcely perturbed. What had happened was only to be expected.