I returned to town, and hunted up the beefy, red-faced hotel keeper, who had impressed me as being an honest man.
“Yes, there’s a doctor,” said he, “a mighty good one. 258 He went by here a little while ago. Name’s Dr. Rankin. I’ll rustle him out for you. Oh, you Pete!” he shouted into the interior of the building.
A moment’s shuffling about preceded the appearance of a negro boy of twelve or fourteen.
“Yes, sah.”
“Go find Dr. Rankin and bring him here right away. Tell him a gentleman wants him.”
“You’ve got a mighty sudden sort of camp here,” said I, as we settled ourselves to wait. “Three months ago I went through here, and there was practically nothing.”
“Looks to be a thousand years, though,” agreed the hotel man. “Where you been?”
“Oh, just prospecting,” I replied vaguely.
“Strike it?”
“Just fair,” I evaded; “not rich enough to keep me from coming back, you see. Any finds here?”