"You my friend?" he said, breathlessly, "then tell me: is there a
doctor around here?"

"No," said I, looking at him closely, "not this side of Tucson. Are you
sick?"

"Is there a drug store in town, then?"

"Nary drug store."

He jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair as he did so.

"My God!" he cried in uncontrollable excitement, "I've got to get my
bag! How far is it to the next station where they're going to put it
off? Ain't there some way of getting there? I got to get to my bag."

"It's near to forty miles," I replied, leaning back.

"And there's no drug store here? What kind of a bum tank town is this,
anyhow?"

"They keep a few patent medicines and such over at the Lone Star
Emporium----" I started to tell him. I never had a chance to finish my
sentence. He darted around the table, grabbed me by the arm, and urged
me to my feet.

"Show me!" he panted.

We sailed through the bar room under full head of steam, leaving the
gang staring after us open-mouthed. I could feel we were exciting