The old prospector looked at Doctor Burton appealingly, as if there was another question which he longed, yet dreaded to ask.
Saint Jimmy evaded the unspoken question by asking:
“Have you guessed who that fellow, John Holt, really is, Thad?”
“He certain sure ain’t no decent prospector or he wouldn’t be tryin’ to carry away my gal like he’s doin’--that’s all I know.”
“He is Sonora Jack the outlaw. Natachee found it out.”
“Holy Cats! An’ I wasted a shot on a measly Mex when I might jest as well a-picked the king himself first. But what do you figger he wants to carry off my gal that-a-way for?”
“Wal, there ain’t no good tryin’ to guess. We’ll know what we know when Natachee and Hugh comes back with her--But, say, Doc----“
The old prospector hesitated, and his gaze roamed about the room.
Saint Jimmy swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Where--why--“ the gnarled fingers plucked at the bedding nervously, and the faded blue eyes at last met the eyes of the younger man with such pathetic fear that Saint Jimmy’s eyes filled.
“Why ain’t my Pardner Bob here? Where is he? He didn’t go with the Injun an’ the boy?”
“No, Thad, Bob did not go with Hugh and Natachee.”
The old prospector put out his trembling hand as if to cling to Saint Jimmy, and Doctor Burton caught it in both his own.
“They--they didn’t get my pardner--Bob ain’t cashed in?”
Then his mother came to the door and the Doctor willingly made an excuse to leave his patient for a little. When he returned an hour later and Mother Burton had yielded her place to him and left the room, old Thad smiled up at him.
“That mother of yourn is a plumb wonder, sir. I always suspicioned it on account of what she’s done for Marta, but I know now that I hadn’t even begun to appreciate it. I reckon I’ll be gettin’ up now.”
“And I reckon you won’t,” retorted the Doctor, putting out a firm hand and pushing him back on the pillow. “You’ll stay right where you are until to-morrow morning. You have already talked too much. Here, let me fix the bandage. There, that will do. Now take this and turn your face to the wall--and keep quiet.”
But the next morning he was out of the house before either Saint Jimmy or his mother had left their beds. When Mrs. Burton went to call him for breakfast, she found him beside the grave under the mesquite trees.