in California was inconsistent with infinitesimal doses. In Concho's
previous illness the doctor had given him a dozen 4 grain quinine
powders.

The following day the grateful Mexican walked into the Doctor's
office--cured. The Doctor was gratified until, on examination, it
appeared that to save trouble, and because his memory was poor, Concho
had taken all the powders in one dose. The Doctor shrugged his shoulders
and--altered his practice.

"Well," said Dr. Guild, as Concho sank down exhaustedly in one of the
Doctor's two chairs, "what now? Have you been sleeping again in the tule
marshes, or are you upset with commissary whisky? Come, have it out."

But Concho declared that the devil was in his stomach, that Judas
Iscariot had possessed himself of his spine, that imps were in his
forehead, and that his feet had been scourged by Pontius Pilate.

"That means 'blue mass,'" said the Doctor. And gave it to him,--a bolus
as large as a musket ball, and as heavy.

Concho took it on the spot, and turned to go.

"I have no money, Senor Medico."

"Never mind. It's only a dollar, the price of the medicine."

Concho looked guilty at having gulped down so much cash. Then he said
timidly: