‘Through the shoulder. Mr. Stevens says it is quite bad. They made me ride here after the doctor and I fell off. But’—he tried to grin—‘I held to the lines, and got on again.’
‘I’ll get the doctor,’ said Red, and ran from the saloon.
‘You look as though yuh needed a drink,’ said the bartender, pouring out a stiff drink of whiskey. ‘Throw that into yuh, kid.’
Rex shook his head. ‘I—I never did drink anything.’
‘You prob’ly never needed it before.’
‘Do yuh good,’ nodded Hashknife. ‘Better mix a little water in it, if yore neck is tender.’
Rex choked over the drink and his eyes filled with tears. Mesa City liquor was powerful stuff, and after a few moments the effects of the drink brought a pleasant glow to its owner.
‘Feelin’ better?’ asked the bartender.
‘Wonderful. What was in it?’
‘God only knows. For some men it’s full of fights; for some it’s full of songs. Didn’t yuh ever take a shot of hooch before?’