"Never saw him," he said briefly.
"How about them bandages, Doc ?" demanded Cavendish.
"Oh, I reckon they'll do," replied the doctor indifferently.
"Will he live ?" "I can't say.

You'll know all about that inside the next forty-eight hours.

Better let the rest have a look." "Just feel of them bandages--sho', I got money in my pants!" Mr.
Cavendish was rapidly losing his temper, yet he controlled himself until each man had taken a look at Yancy; but always with the same result--a shake of the head.

"I reckon I can leave him here ?" Cavendish asked, when the last man had looked and turned away.
"Leave him here--why ?" demanded the doctor slowly.
"Because I'm going on, that's why.

I'm headed for downstream, and he ain't in any sort of shape to say whether he wants to go or stop," explained Cavendish.
"You picked him up, didn't you ?" asked one of the men.
"I certainly did," said Cavendish.
"Well, I reckon if you're so anxious for him to stay hereabout, you'd better stop, yourself," said the owner of the woodyard.