It was rather a strange improvisation, with singable fragments here and there, and then wild, free runs and trills.

It was as if some bird of exquisite singing powers should be taken in a rapture of song, so that it whistled snatches here and there of its usual melody, but all between were great, whole-throated rhapsodies.

As the sound of this whistling came to him, Buck raised his head suddenly.

And finally, still listening, he rose to his feet and turned into the dining-room.
There he found the waitress he had met before, and he asked her for the name of the doctor who took care of the wounded Jerry Strann.
"There ain't no doc," said the waitress.

"It's Fatty Matthews, the deputy marshal, who takes care of that Strann--bad luck to him! Fatty's in the barroom now.