Doc flirted his hand airily, as if contemptuous of the exclusiveness of the Midewiwin. “The trouble with belonging to this Middywinny, or whatever it’s called, is that you’d probably have to agree to be a regular doctor, and being a regular doctor is one of the most ticklish businesses there is, for everybody concerned, and even for outsiders like patients, on account of the ethics connected with it. Leastways, regular doctors call it ethics. If one doctor sees another being careless, or purging a patient to death, or bleeding him to a shadder, or otherwise murdering him without good and sufficient reason, he can’t tell nobody about it, not if he’s a regular doctor. He’s got to keep his mouth shut, because that’s what doctors think ethics is. I guess if I was a regular doctor and took to curing Injuns, all simple and easy and without no fuss, it would be pretty bad ethics. No, I don’t believe I’d want to be a regular doctor.”

“But Indian doctors are different from regular doctors,” Verrieul explained. “They’re put to death if they lose too many patients.”

“Then they ain’t regular doctors at all!” Doc cried. “How do you get into this Middywinny or whatever it is? It sounds good!”

“You must be elected. There are seven shamans in this town, because seven clans live here. Each clan has a shaman. Tiny’s father is head shaman, and has the greatest influence. Because of what you did for his son, he may help you; but all seven must vote to admit you to the Midewiwin. I think it’s impossible.”

“No it ain’t,” Doc said. “If these folks like to bet on ball games, they’ll bet on dice, and once they start to betting on my dice, they’ll have to elect me to their society, because I’ll own pretty near everything they got, including the society.”

Then he became thoughtful. “I wonder if they’d turn us loose if I made ’em a present of the Talking Book and the Venesection Mannekin and the lancet? I got a notion to ask ’em.”

“Why should they?” Verrieul asked. “They can take those things from you whenever they want to. They’re in possession of them and us too.” He paused, then finished in a low voice, “And they’ll keep us forever.”

“Forever?” Doc repeated. “Not me! I belong in a war that’s going on, some particular hell of a long ways from here, and I got to get back into it. Looks difficult, but I got to!”

“They’ll keep us forever,” Verrieul said again.

And I, unhappily, could see no hope that he was wrong.

XLVII