“Send for Doc Milliken!” he yells.
“Ailin’, Wicksie?” asks the judge.
“Terrible!” Wick looks around, wild-like. “Ain’t nobody going to send for a doctor?”
“Will a little liquor take out the hurt?” asks Slow-Elk.
“Liquor ——! I need a antydote! First I see a cannyball and then I see a danged woolly dog!”
Wick’s voice hits a high note, and he stares at us wild-like.
“He seen a dog!” gasps Dirty Shirt. “Wick Smith has seen a dog! My gosh, this is terrible!”
“Woolly dog,” says Wick, like he was talking to himself. “It had a stick in its hands and was walking like a man. When it seen me it hopped up in the air and turned over and lit on its hind feet and——”
“Snakes!” gasps Yuma. “Smitty has got crippled crawlers!”
“You’re a liar!” howls Wick. “Don’t I know a dog from a snake?”