“Horacles don’t know it,” said Scipio. “I’ve saw him in the store all season.”
“Well,” said the doctor, “see you to-morrow. I’ve some new patients in the ward.”
“Soldiers.”
“Guess I know why they’re here.”
“Oh, yes,” sighed the doctor. “You know. Few come here for any other reason.” The doctor held views about how a military post should be regulated, which popular sentiment will never share. “Can I do anything for you?” he inquired.
“If I could have some newspapers?” said Scipio.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” said the doctor. After that he saw to it that Scipio had them liberally.
With newspapers the patient sat surrounded deep, when the Virginian, passing north on his way to Billings, looked in for a moment to give his friend the good word. That is what he came for, but what he said was:—
“So he has got false teeth?”