“Shucks!” said Lin, after the next ten steps. “You are, and both feet.”
“Tell you, there’s stones here, an’ I’m just a-skipping them.”
Lin, briefly, took the boy in his arms and carried him to Golden. “I’m played out myself,” he said, sitting in the hotel and looking lugubriously at Billy on a bed. “And I ain’t fit to have charge of a hog.” He came and put his hand on the boy’s head.
“I’m not sick,” said the cripple. “I tell you I’m bully. You wait an’ see me eat dinner.”
But Lin had hot water and cold water and salt, and was an hour upon his knees bathing the hot feet. And then Billy could not eat dinner.
There was a doctor in Golden; but in spite of his light prescription and most reasonable observations, Mr. McLean passed a foolish night of vigil, while Billy slept, quite well at first, and, as the hours passed, better and better. In the morning he was entirely brisk, though stiff.
“I couldn’t work quick to-day,” he said. “But I guess one day won’t lose me my trade.”
“How d’ yu’ mean?” asked Lin.