there, and managed to get a word in on the subject during one of my client’s rare pauses.
“Yes,” he said, that’s so. There ain’t one of ’em now fit to travel with young Doctor Vane, who was here some fifteen years gone by. He weren’t no horse-doctor, but he could fix up a foundered horse in a night as good as new. If your uncle was livin’, he’d back me on that, Mr. Cooke.”
Here was my chance. I took the old man aside, and two or three glasses of Old Crow launched him into reminiscence.
“Where is Doctor Vane now?” I asked finally.
“Over to Minneapolis, sir, with more rich patients nor he can take care of. Wasn’t my darter over there last month, and seen him? And demned if he didn’t pull up his carriage and talk to her. Here’s luck to him.”
I might have heard much more of the stockraiser had I stayed, but I fear I left him somewhat abruptly in my haste to find Farrar. Only three days remained before the case was to come up. Farrar readily agreed to go to Minneapolis, and was off on the first train that afternoon. I would have asked Mr. Cooke to
