"You were needing me—particular?" Steve enquired after a pause.
Ross glanced down at the gurgling water of the shallow stream as it passed over its rough gravel bed.
"I was needing a yarn. Nothing amiss at the post? You wanted me—particular?"
The smile in Steve's eyes deepened.
"No. I was needing a—yarn."
The doctor's twinkling eyes searched the clearing. A fallen tree was sprawling near by, with its upper boughs helping to cascade the waters of the stream. He pointed at it.
"Guess we don't need to wear our legs out."
Steve laughed shortly.
"That's where the neches beat us every time. You need to sit at a pow-wow."
"Sure. Their wise men sit most all the time."