Don Gaspar led the way for a short distance along the wagon road. On the outskirts of the settlement he turned aside to a small log cabin supplemented by a brush lean-to. A long string of bright red peppers hung down the face of it. To our knock came a very fat, rather dirty, but exceedingly pleasant-faced woman with glossy black hair, parted smoothly, and soft black eyes. She opened the door only the fraction of an inch at first, but instantly recognized Don Gaspar, and threw it wide.
To our great relief we found Yank very much alive. He greeted us rather feebly, but with satisfaction. We found that he had been kindly cared for, and that the surface wounds and bruises from the horses' hoofs had been treated with some skill.
"But I reckon I'm hurt some inside," he whispered with difficulty, "for I can't breathe easy; and I can't eat nothin' but soup. And my leg is hell."
The broken leg too had been bound up after a fashion, but it was badly swollen above and below the bandages.
"He ought to have a doctor," said I positively. "There's no doubt of that. There must be some among the miners--there generally is. I'm going to see if I can find one."
I returned to town, and hunted up the beefy, red-faced hotel keeper, who had impressed me as being an honest man.
"Yes, there's a doctor," said he, "a mighty good one. He went by here a little while ago. Name's Dr. Rankin. I'll rustle him out for you. Oh, you Pete!" he shouted into the interior of the building.
A moment's shuffling about preceded the appearance of a negro boy of twelve or fourteen.
"Go find Dr. Rankin and bring him here right away. Tell him a gentleman wants him."
"You've got a mighty sudden sort of camp here," said I, as we settled ourselves to wait. "Three months ago I went through here, and there was practically nothing."
"Looks to be a thousand years, though," agreed the hotel man. "Where you been?"
"Oh, just prospecting," I replied vaguely.
"Just fair," I evaded; "not rich enough to keep me from coming back, you see. Any finds here?"
"The diggings are rich as mud," replied the hotel man dispassionately. "It's a prosperous camp all right."
"Not I! I make more than my 'ounce a day' right here." He jerked his thumb at his hotel.