“He goes on and shows how all up and down a feller’s backbone there is plenty of soft spots, and he shows likewise that there is scattered around in different parts of a feller’s territory something like two hundred and four and a half bones, any one of which is likely any minute to jar loose and go to pressin’ on a soft spot; ‘In which case,’ says he, ‘there is need of a ostypath immediate.’

“For instance,’ he says to me, ’I could make quite a man out of you in a couple of years if I had the chanct.’  I ast him what his price would be for that, and he said he was willin’ to tackle it for about fifty dollars a month.  That bein’ just five dollars a month more than the boss was allowing me at the time, and me seein’ I’d have to go about two years without anything to wear or eat—­let alone anything to drink—­I had to let this chanct go by.  I been strugglin’ along, as you know, ever since, just like this, some shopworn, but so’s to set up.  There was one while, I admit, when the Doc made me some nervous, when I thought of all them soft spots in my spine, and all them bones liable to get loose any minute and go to pressin’ on them.  But I had to take my chances, like any other cow puncher at forty-five a month.”

“You ought to raise his wages, Mac,” said Doc Tomlinson to McKinney, the ranch foreman, but the latter only grunted.

“Mr. Ostypath, he stayed around the Bar T quite a while,” began Curly again, “and we got to talkin’ to him a heap about modern science.  Says he, one evenin’, this-a-way to us fellers, says he, ’Why, a great many things goes wrong because the nervous system is interfered with, along of your osshus structure.  You think your stomach is out of whack,’ says he.  ’It ain’t.  All it needs is more nerve supply.  I git that by loosenin’ up the bones in your back.  Why, I’ve cured a heap of rheumatism, and paralysis, and cross eyes, and—­’

“‘What’s that?’ says Tom Redmond, right sudden.

“‘You heard me, sir,’ says the Doc, severe.

“Tom, he couldn’t hardly wait, he was so bad struck with the idea he had.  ‘Come here, Doc,’ says he.  And then him and Doc walked off a little ways and begun to talk.  When they come up toward us again, we heard the Doc sayin’:  ’Of course I could cure him.  Straybismus is dead easy.  I never did operate on no horse, but I’ve got to eat, and if this here is the only patient in this whole blamed country, why I’ll have to go you, if it’s only for the sake of science,’ says he.  Then we all bunched in together and drifted off toward the corral, where old Pinto was standin’, lookin’ hopeless and thoughtful.  ’Is this the patient?’ says the Doc, sort of sighin’.

“‘It are,’ says Tom Redmond.

“Doc he walks up to old Pinto, and has a look at him, frontways, sideways, and all around.  Pinto raises his head up, snorts, and looks Doc full in the face; leastwise, if he’d ‘a’ been any other horse, he’d ‘a’ been lookin’ him full in the face.  Doc he stands thoughtful for quite a while, and then he goes and kind of runs his hand up and down along Pinto’s spine.  He growed plumb enthusiastic then, ’Beautiful subject,’ says he.  ’Be-yoo-tiful ostypathic subject!  Whole osshus structure exposed!’ And Pinto shore was a dream if bones was needful in the game.”