CHAPTER XVI
PRINCE OF THE HOUSE OF CLAY
When the train came in from the west, Dr. Clay stepped off and walked quickly to his office. He called at the drug store before going to his private office, and inquired of the clerk:
"Any one wanting me, Tommy?"
"Sure—two or three—but nothing serious. Bill Snedden wanted you to come out and see his horse."
"See his horse!" exclaimed the doctor in surprise.
"Yes, Democracy hasn't been feeling well. Just sort of mopin' around the stall. Not sick—just out of sorts, you know, down-hearted like."
"Well, why doesn't he get Dr. Moody? Horses are not my line."
"O but he says this is different. Democracy is more like a human being than a horse, and Dr. Moody don't know much about a horse's higher nature. He says he's scared to have Dr. Moody come out anyway—every time he comes, a horse dies, and he's gettin' superstitious about it. T'aint that he has anything against Dr. Moody. He spoke well of him and said he was nice to have around in time of trouble, he's so sympathetic and all that, but he don't want to take any chances with Democracy. He would have liked awful well to see you, doctor. I told him you'd be home tonight, and he'll give you a ring. No, there was nothing serious. There was a young fellow here from the city came out to see Pearl Watson, they said, about some set of books or something. He got lost in the storm, and frozen pretty badly. He's out at Watsons yet, I think. But they didn't phone, or anything—at least, I didn't get it. I just heard about it."
"All right, Tommy," said the doctor, and went on.