"What did you powwow for?" I asked, after a long while.

She had seated herself on the edge of the bed and was contemplating me
gravely.

"Everything," she answered. "I never had a case like yours. I never
had a patient who was run away with, and kicked on the head, and
drownded. So I says to Tip, I says, 'I'll do everything. I'll treat
for asthmy, erysipelas and pneumony, rheumatism and snake-bite, for the
yallers and----'"

"Hold on," I pleaded. "I haven't had all that."

"You mought have had any one of 'em," she said firmly. "You should 'a'
seen yourself when we found you down there in the creek. Can't you
feel that bandage?" She lifted my hand to my head gently. I seemed to
have a great turban crowning me. "That's where you was kicked," she
went on. "You otter 'a' seen that spot. I used my Modern Miracle
Salve there. It's worked wonderful, it has. I was sorry you had no
bones broken so I could 'a' tried it for them, too."

"I'm satisfied with what I have," said I quietly. "It was pretty lucky
I got off as well as I did after a runaway, and the creek and the
kick." Then, to myself, I added, "And the powwowing and the salve."

I tried to lift my head, but could not. At first I thought it was the
turban, but a sharp pain told me that there was a spot there that might
be well worth seeing. For a long time I lay with my eyes closed,
trying not to care, and when I opened them again, John Shadrack's widow
was still on the edge of the bed, smoking.