I looked at Simpson. He'd been settin' on the ground; but now he gits up, pullin' at the rope gentle, like a lazy sucker. Say! but his face was ornamented!

I give him a nod. "Wal, Young-Man-That-Flies-Like-A-Bird?" I says, inquirin'.

He began to paw up the road like a mad bull. "I'll make you pay fer this!" he bellered.

"You cain't git blood outen a turnip," I answers, sweet as sugar; and Maud backed a step 'r two, so's the rope wouldn't slack.

"How _dast_ you do such a' in_fame_ous thing!" he goes on.

"You gasoline gents got t' have a lesson," I answers; "you let the stuff go t' you' haids. Why, a _hired man_ ain't got a chanst fer his life when you happen t' be travellin'."

He begun t' wiggle his arms. "You lemme go," he says.

"Go where?" I ast.

"T' my machine."

I looked over at her. She was quiet now, but sweatin' oil somethin'

awful. "How long'll it take you t' git her on to her laigs?" I ast.

"She's ruined!" he says, like he was goin' to bawl. "And I meant t' go down to Goldstone t'night."

"That duck-wing lady'll have t' wait fer the train," I says. "But never mind. I'll tell Rose Andrews you got the _en_gagement." Then Maud slacked the rope and I rode up t' him, so's to let him loose. "So long," I says.

"I ain't done with you!" he answers, gittin' purple; "I ain't done with you!"

"Wal, you know where I live," I says, and loped off, hummin' the tune the ole cow died on.

When I rid up to the Bar Y ranch-house, here was Billy, gittin' offen that little bi_cy_cle of hisn.

"Cupid," he says, and he was whiter'n chalk-rock, "is the baby worse?

And Rose----"

I pulled him up on to the porch. "Now's you' chanst, Billy," I answers. "_Do you' darnedest!_"

Rose opened the door, and her face was as white as hisn. "Aw, Billy!"

was all she says.

Then up come that ole fool paw of hern, totin' the kid. "What's this?" he ast, mad as a hornet. "And where's Doc Simpson?"

It was me that spoke. "Doc Simpson's had a turrible accident," I answers. "His gasoline plug got to misbehavin' down the road a piece, and plumb tore her insides out. He got awful shook up, and couldn't come no further, so--knowin' the baby was so sick--I went fer Bill."

"Bill!" says the ole man, disgusted. "_Thun-deration!_"

But Billy had his tools out a'ready and was a-reachin' fer the kid.

Sewell let him have her--cussin' like a mule-skinner.

"That's right," he says to Rose; "that's right,--let him ma.s.sacree her!"

Rose didn't take no notice. "Aw, Billy!" she kept sayin', and "Aw, baby!"

Billy got to doin' things. He picked somethin' shiny outen his kit and slipped it into a pocket. Next, he lay the kid lookin' up and put his finger into her mouth.

"See here," he says to me.

I peeked in where he pointed and seen a reg'lar little hawg-back of gum, red on the two slopes, but whitish in four spots along the ridge, like they'd been a snowfall. Billy grinned, took out that shiny instrument, and give each of them pore little gum b.u.t.tes the double cross--zip-_zip,_ zip-_zip,_ zip-_zip,_ zip-_zip_. And, jumpin' buffaloes! _out pops four of the prettiest teeth a man ever seen!_

Bugs?--rats!

"Now, a little Bella Donnie," says Bill, "and the baby'll be O. K."

"O. K.!" says Rose. "Aw, Billy!" And _such_ a kissin'!--the baby, a-_course_.

Ole man Sewell stopped swearin' a minute. "What's the matter?" he ast.

"Teeth," says Billy.

Think of that! Why, the trouble was so clost to Simpson that if it'd been a rattler, it'd 'a' bit him!

"_Teeth!_" says the ole man, like he didn't believe it.

"Come look," says Billy.

Sewell, he walked over to the baby and stooped down. Then all of a suddent, I seen his jaw go open, and his eyes stick out so far you could 'a' knocked 'em off with a stick. Then, he got red as a turkey gobbler--and let out a reg'lar war-whoop.

"_Look_ at 'em!" he yelped. "Rose! Rose!--_look_ at 'em! Four all to oncet!" And he give the doc such a wallop on the back that it come nigh to knockin' him down.

"I know," I says sarcastic, "but, shucks! a baby ain't _all_ teeth.

This is a mighty puzzlin' case, and Simpson----"

"Close you' fly-trap," says the ole man, "and look at them teeth!

Four of a kind--can y' beat it?"

"Wa-a-al," I says, sniffin', "they's so, so, I reckon, but any kid----"

"_Any_ kid!" yells the ole man, plumb aggervated. And he was just turnin' round to give _me_ one when--in limps Simpson!

"Mister Sewell," he says, "I come to make a complaint"--he shook his fist at me--"agin this here ruffian. He----"

"Wow!" roars Sewell. "Don't you trouble to make no complaints in _this_ house. Here you been a-treatin' this baby fer bugs when it was just teeth. Say! you ain't got sense enough to come in when it rains!"

That plumb rattled Simpson. He was gittin' a _re_ception he didn't reckon on. But he tried t' keep up his game.

"This cow-boy here is _re_sponsible fer damages to my auto," he says.

"The dashboard's smashed into matches, the tumblin'-rods is broke, the spark-condenser's kaflummuxed, and the hull blamed business is skew-gee. This man was actin' in you' behalf, and if he don't pay, I'll sue _you._"

"Sue?" says Sewell; "_sue?_ You go guess again! You send in you'

bill, that's what _you_ do. You ain't earned nothin'--but, by jingo, it's worth money just to git shet of such a dog-goned shyster as you.