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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Quirt"

"I would like it if you say somebody rides to get the
doctor," he hinted quietly.
Sorry looked at Jim. "I rode like hell," he stated heavily. "I leave it
to Jim."
"You shore'n hell did!" Jim agreed, and Swan removed his big form from
the door.
"You boys goin' over t' Spirit Canyon?" Frank wanted to know.
"Yeah," said Sorry, answering for them both, and they went out, giving
Swan a sidelong look of utter bafflement as they passed him. Talking by
the thought route from Spirit Canyon to Boise City was evidently a bit
too much for even their phlegmatic souls to contemplate with perfect
calm.
"They'll keep it to theirselves, whether they believe it or not," Frank
assured Swan in his labored whisper. "It don't go down with me. I ain't
supe'stitious enough fer that."
"The doctor he comes, don't he?" Swan retorted. "I shall go back now and
milk the cows and do chores."
"But if your shoulder is lame, Swan, how can you?" Lorraine asked in her
unexpected fashion.
Swan swallowed and looked helplessly at the doctor, who stood smoothing
his chin. "The muscle strain is not serious," he said calmly.


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