“I rather believe that Joe has had some sort of attack, just like I did; and your uncle has sent him home to be dosed and to lie down, knowing that he’d never be able to keep his seat in the saddle during the wild dash of the round-up.”
“Frank, I wonder if that could be so?” Andy observed, seriously. “P’raps it’s going to be an epidemic and the whole of us may be down with the same, yet. Couldn’t have been locoed by any of that weed they tell us about, could we? If the cows they use for milkers gobbled any of the same, would it affect us, do you think?”
That idea tickled Frank, for he laughed.
“I don’t think we stand in any danger that way, Andy,” he went on to remark, “but anyhow, you’ll know about Joe pretty soon, for he’s coming along on a steady lope, and will be here inside of ten minutes, at most.”
They stood and watched the cow puncher swinging along at that easy gait; it seemed as though the man in the sheepskin chaps might be part and parcel with his pony they moved with such a steady rhythm. And before the time limit which Frank had set expired he had come to a full stop before them.
But Frank had already made a discovery. This was to the effect that one of Joe’s lower limbs seemed to be bound up with a rough bandage.
“What happened, Joe?” he asked, stepping forward to the side of the other, who seemed to have what might be called a sheepish grin on his sunburned face.
“I made a fool play, and got pitched over the head of my pony, when he stepped into a gopher hole. Broke a leg, that’s all; reckons as how I orter broke my fool neck to even her up. Have to get you boys to help me off the hoss. Never knew that to happen before to a feller my size. Mr. Witherspoon, he did her up in fust class shape, and sez he, ‘You get back to the ranch the best way you can, and the boys’ll do what’s needed, with the help of Mrs. Ogden.’ So if you’ll jest give me a hand, mebbe I might hop inside the bunk house.”
“No you don’t,” said impulsive Andy, instantly, “you’ll go right in the main house. Guess I know what Uncle Jethro’d do if he was here. That bunk house may be all right for a well puncher, but with its noisy crowd it’s no place for a man with a broken leg. Now, rest your whole weight on us, Joe; we can stand it, all right. That’s the way; hope it didn’t hurt much when you dropped out of the saddle. Now, use us like you would a pair of crutches, and we’ll get there, step by step.”
The housekeeper and little Becky came running out just then, alarmed by seeing Alkali Joe, who was something of a favorite on the ranch, in dire straits. Even Charley Woo was solicitous about the comfort of the injured man, and hurried in with Mrs. Ogden to get a bed ready in the spare room.