The manner of the rustic grew more genial.

"Mostly we do," he admitted; "but this here is a hot spell." Another
long pause and then he volunteered suddenly: "You can mostly tell by
Alviry. When she gets a sunstroke it's purty hot. I'm going for the
doctor now."

"Going for the doctor?" Callandar's gaze swept the peaceful figure with
incredulous amusement. "Great Scott, man! Why don't you hurry? Can't the
horse go any faster?"

"Maybe," resignedly, "but he won't."

"Make him, then! A sunstroke may be a very serious business. Your wife
may be dead before you get back."

The deep-set eyes turned to him slowly. There seemed something like a
distant sparkle in their depths.

"Don't get to worrying, stranger. It'll take more 'an a sunstroke to
polish off Alviry."

"Was she unconscious?"

"Not so as you could notice."

"But if it were a sunstroke--look here, I'll go with you myself. I am a
doctor."