“I prescribed him some pretty strong opiates—­strong as I dare—­and for a time he seemed to get relief.  But a couple of days ago he came around and—­my God! . . .  Say! if I hadn’t known him for a man who drinks very little I’d have sworn he was in the D.T.’s.”

The doctor’s rotund figure stiffened slightly in his seat, and his genial face hardened to a degree that was in itself a revelation to his audience.  Without any semblance of bravado he continued quietly, “I hope I possess as much physical pluck as most men—­I guess you fellows aren’t aware of it, but many years back I too wore the Queen’s uniform—­Surgeon in the Navy.  I served in that Alexandria affair, under Charlie Beresford.

“Well, as I was saying, . . .  Gully came into my surgery that day, raving like a madman.  He’s a big, powerful devil, as you know.  I’ll confess I was a bit dubious about him—­watched him pretty close for a few minutes, for he acted as if he might start running amok.  ’I can’t sleep!’ he kept yelling at me, ’I can’t sleep, I tell you! . . .  That dope you’re giving me’s no good. . . .  Christ Almighty! give me a shot of cocaine, Cox, or morphine, and get me a supply of the stuff and a needle, will you?  I’ll pay you any amount!’

“Naturally, I refused, I’m not the man to go laying myself open to anything like that.  Well!  Good God!  The next minute the man came for me like a lunatic—­clutching out at me with those great hands of his and with the most murderous expression on his face you can imagine.  I backed away to the medicine cabinet and caught hold of a pestle and told him I’d brain him with it if he touched me.  I threatened I’d lay an information against him for assault, and that seemed to quiet him down.  He began to expostulate then, and eventually broke down and apologised to me—­in the most abject fashion.  Begged me to overlook his loss of control, and all that.  Of course I let up on him then.  A local scandal between two men in our position wouldn’t do at all.  I gave him a d——­d good calling down, though, and finally advised him to go away somewhere for a complete rest and change.  But he wouldn’t agree to that—­seemed worried over his ranch.  Said he’d worked up a pretty good outfit and couldn’t think of leaving his stock in somebody else’s hands at this time of the year—­couldn’t afford it in fact.  Anyway—­that’s his look-out.  But, as a matter of fact, if that man doesn’t take my advice, why . . . he’s going to collapse.  I know the symptoms only too well.  That’s the curse of men living alone on these homesteads—­brooding, and worrying their heads off.  It seems to get them all eventually in—­”

Breaking off abruptly he glanced at his watch.  “Getting late!” he ejaculated, jumping up, “I must be getting on to that case.”

“Docthor!” said Slavin, reflectively, “’tis a shtrange story ye’ve been tellin’ us.  Ye’ll be comin’ back this way, I suppose—­lather in th’ day?”