PAP COWGILL was off his run for a few days, pending the healing of one of his feet, on which he had dropped a chunk of coal. The company doctor, no other, in fact, than the father of Angus Valorous, had been over to the Cottonwood Hotel to attend the bruised member, leaving a scent of drugs in the parlor, where Pap had submitted himself to the physician's ministrations. Pap was established in the carpet-covered spring rocker by the window, his bandaged foot on a hassock made of tomato cans, after the thrifty way of pioneer housekeepers, a piece of economy worthy of the great work that Louise Gardner had come to McPacken to put on every center table.
This hassock was covered with carpeting to match the chair, padded with cotton batting and supplied with two little ears for lifting it around. Young ladies sometimes sat on it, especially Goosie, who found it of convenient height for resting her head on Bill Connor's knee. Pap was comfortable. He enjoyed being crippled; he liked the smell of arnica and carbolated salve.
