Ike," she declared as they awaited before the doctor's office in the big automobile. "That poor fellow over there will need somebody more'n Ruth Fielding to nurse him. It takes skill to bring folks out of a fever spell. I nursed Dad through a bad case of it two year ago, and I know what to do."
"That's all right, Sally," agreed Ike. "I'll make Old Bill give me muh time, if need be, and we'll spend our honeymoon at Tintacker. I kin fix up one of the old shacks to suit us to camp in. I don't wish that poor feller over there any harm," he added, smiling broadly at the pretty girl beside him, "but if it hadn't been that he got this fever, you an' I wouldn't be married now, honey."
"You can thank Ruth Fielding—if you want to be thankful to anybody," returned Sally, in her brisk way. "But maybe you won't be so thankful a year or two from now, Ike."
Dr. Burgess came with his black bag and they were off. The automobile—as Sally said herself—behaved "like an angel," and they reached Silver Ranch (after halting for a brief time at the Crossing for Sally to pack her bag and acquaint Old Lem Dickson of the sudden and unexpected change in her condition) late at night. Old Bill Hicks was off for Tintacker and the party remained only long enough to eat and for Bob
