"Suppose, now," continued Peter V., "that we had old Tigerskin here. Just what part of the head would I aim at? Back here?"
"The temple," said the doctor.
"That's back here, isn't it?" persisted his patient, forcing a laugh at his own ignorance. "Where is it on a horse, anyhow?"
Parker Wetherell touched his own forehead, and said:
"Just about where it is on a man. Right here at the side of the head in front of the ear."
Wilkinson had withdrawn his hand and was tapping the table in front of him nervously.
"Doc," he insisted, "just put my finger on the spot—here on my head—and when I get Tigerskin, why then I'll know...."
The physician seized his patient's pudgy finger, held it for an instant poised half an inch from the big man's head, and then jammed it into the temple with precision.
"There," he exclaimed, "that's just the spot!"