“Shucks, mother! We got plenty of meal and hog meat, and there’s vegetables. We’ll not starve. Besides,” here he whispered in Mrs. Feeney’s ear, “you’ll get some money from ’em, eh? I knows you—”
“Pat, you know you’re not going to charge them four boys, if they stay a week. I’ve heard ye say so.”
“Now, Mrs. Feeney,” put in Billy, “don’t you worry! We boys are not going to cost you a dollar more than we’ll pay back. We like you folks.” Here Billy winked boldly at Nan who laughed as she slightly blushed. “Anything will do us.”
“You sure are good boys,” nodded Mrs. Feeney. “You were nice to my folks on the way from the hay market. Pat and me are glad to have ye. But these others—real strangers, that might be different.”
“Oh, Billy,” called Paul from the shed doorway, “please come here!”
Thus summoned, the two at once followed Paul into where the sick man was picking at his wounded head and moaning:
“Dippy—done—it. What’d you do it for, Dippy?” A series of feeble coughings ensued, and the man again seemed to swoon away.
“That’s the way he keeps going on,” remarked Worth, regarding Phil attentively. “Reckon he ought to have a—a doctor?”
After another short consultation Dan, who meanwhile had eaten and felt refreshed and rested, set out on another horse for the nearest physician.
“Tell Doc the whole story, Dan,” urged the father. “If we get any sense outen him, mebbe it will help undo this mystery that surrounds the whole business. Tell him I won’t pay his bill, but the county probably will. Thurfore he can stick it up to a pretty stiff figure.”