"Yes?" Secretly, Chip had his doubts. He knew one that didn't--and
wouldn't.

"We'll have all kinds of fun, and go everywhere and do everything.
As soon as the round-up is over, I think I'll make J. G. give another
dance, but I'll take care that the drug store is safely locked away.
And some day we'll take a lunch and go prowling around down in the
Bad Lands--you'll have to go, so we won't get lost--and we'll have Len
Adams and Rena and the schoolma'am over here often, and--oh, my brain
just buzzes with plans. I'm so anxious for Cecil to see the Countess
and--well, everybody around here. You, too."

"I'm sure a curiosity," said Chip, getting on his feet again. "I've
always had the name of being something of a freak--I don't wonder you
want to exhibit me to your--friends." He went down the hill to the
bunk house, holding the unlighted cigarette still in his fingers.

When Slim opened the door to tell him supper was ready, he found Chip
lying on his bed, his face buried in his arms.

If Chip never had understood before how a man can stand up straight on
the gallows, throw back his shoulders and smile at his executioner, he
learned the secret during that twenty-two mile drive to Dry Lake with
the Little Doctor. He would have shirked the ordeal gladly, and laid
awake o' nights planning subterfuges that would relieve him, but the
Little Doctor seemed almost malignantly innocent and managed to
checkmate every turn. She could not trust anyone else to manage the
creams; she was afraid Slim might get drunk while they waited for the
train, or forget his duties in a game. She hated J. G.'s way of
fussing over trifles, and wouldn't have him along. Chip was not able