“Little Prairie Bend.”
“Into that bar eddy theh?”
“Yas, suh—the short eddy.”
“Much obliged, Doc. Co’se I’ll pay yo’––”
“Your friend’s paid!”
“Yas, suh,” Prebol whispered, sleepily, tired by the exertion and excitement.
“Sleep’ll do him good,” the doctor said, and returned to his little motorboat.
The young man went on board his own boat which was moored just below Prebol’s. As he entered the cabin, a burly, whiskered man looked up and said:
“How’s he coming, Slip?”
“Doc says he’s all right. Jest said a woman shot him for tryin’ to mind her business, kind-a laughed about hit.”