While we stacked our muskets and packs and made free with the beer, Nason had a word with Doc Means. “Doc,” he said, “we’ve got a long trip ahead of us. You’ll never make it with any such load as you’ve got there.”

“Those things might come in pretty handy,” Doc said mildly. “They don’t weigh as much as one goose, and I’d hate to say how far I could carry a goose, if I wanted to use it when I got where I was going.”

“Maybe we could divide ’em up, if you’re set on taking ’em.”

“No,” Doc Means said. “No. I couldn’t spare none of ’em. When you want one of ’em, you’re like to want it quick.” Baffled, he removed the bundles from his smock; and to watch him was like watching a magician remove from a hat more things than the hat could possibly hold. Plaintively he added, “If only they was as soft as a goose—even as soft as a frozen goose—I wouldn’t have no trouble.”

Phoebe Nason sat on the step beside him, looking, with her kerchiefed head and her sea boots, like a sympathetic boy. She swept Doc’s parcels into a pile beside her. “What are they, Doc? Asafoetida bags?”

Doc’s glance wandered over the shouting, milling crowd; then returned to the brown beads at Phoebe’s throat. He shook his head. “I don’t recommend asafoetida bags. The reason I wear one myself is because it gives me more room in case I get in a crowd. Crowds ain’t good for my rest, and rest is the most important thing you can get. People don’t bother you if you wear an asafoetida bag—not unless they’re real used to you.”

Phoebe nodded thoughtfully. “I didn’t know, from the smell around here, but what you were trying to carry enough asafoetida bags for the whole army. What is it you’ve got in these bundles?”

Doc pawed at them. “Medical supplies and my medical liberry. This here’s my Culpeper’s Herbal. It tells how to make medicine out of any kind of plants or leaves. This here’s my book by Tryon, that tells how to cure yourself by not eating nothing. This here’s my Almanac. It tells what’s the most favorable time to do things and take things. This here’s my Venesection Mannekin and my trigger-lancet, and my hazel wand for finding minerals and water. And this here’s my Digby’s Sympathetic Powder.”

Phoebe picked up the bundle that held the Almanac; stared at it, back and front; then eyed Doc Means doubtfully. “What does your Almanac say about today?”

Doc took it from her and dropped it carefully into his smock. “Today? It says today is the most favorable day there is for embarking on any enterprise.”