"'The Professor's researches here may prove of vital importance. And,
speaking for our fellow-citizens, we venture to assure this
distinguished pathologist of our cordial desire to co-operate, so far
as it may be possible, in the important work which he has
undertaken.'"
"Slings words, that feller," remarked Jimmie. "But what in thunder is
Perfessor Adam Chawner a-doin' in Paradise?"
"Come, mebbee, to see you rope steers," suggested Dan.
"I shall aim not to disappoint him," replied Jimmie. "All the same, I
ask you fellers straight: Has he come here to--work?"
"Meanin'?"
"If this yere deadly disease is on the rampage I, for one, 'd like to
know it."
"Me too," drawled Dan.
A silence followed as Jimmie coiled up his rope. Pete began to remove
his boots. Dan, very furtively, placed a finger upon his pulse. Then
he said with constraint--
"Boys, I don't want any joshin'. I've not felt extry spry lately."
"Same here," said Jimmie quickly.
Pete smiled sarcastically.
"A little bird tole me," he remarked slowly, looking at Dan, "as how
Miss Mary Willing was seen a-buggy-ridin' las' Sunday with Jack Rice."
"It's true," said Dan, shortly. "Me and Mame is at outs. If I was
dyin', I couldn't forgive her!"
"You don't say?" cried Jimmie. "Wal, Miss Edna Parkinson an' yours
truly ain't goin' ter speak never no more, neither. That hound Ikey
Greenberg has cut in with a noo Prince Albert coat. It's upset me
considerable."
"My trouble ain't heart only," said Dan.
"Stomach?" suggested Pete.
"All overish, mostly."
"You ain't bin readin' the advertisements o' quack doctors, hev ye?"
"Not since I was twenty. They did give me fits at one time. Boys"--he
began to scratch himself furiously--"I've a feelin' as if I was afire
inside."
"Maw used ter give me sarsaparilla," said Jimmie.
"My folks," observed Pete, "never tuk nothin' but castor ile. Must ha'
downed a barrel o' that when I was a kid."
"This thing is drivin' me crazy," said Dan.
"Wal," replied Pete deliberately, "I know what I'd do, and I'd do it
quick. This yere Professor is on the ranch, and he's a dandy. After
the _rodeo_, you jest sachay up to him an' tell him what you've
tole us. If he don't take the kinks outer yer, he's a fraud. See!"
"Gosh," exclaimed Dan, "I'll do it!"
They turned in.
* * * * *
The Professor next day watched the _rodeo_ from a platform
erected near the biggest of our corrals. This was his first visit to
California, and he was mightily impressed by the skill and vigour of
the vaqueroes. To Ajax he declared that he was amazed to find such
splendid specimens in that particular locality. Ajax smiled.
"We have not much," he said, "but we feel that we have a right to
expect high health. We used to say," he added, "that sickness was
unknown in our hills till a wise doctor settled here from the East."
The Professor frowned.
"I rose at six," he said austerely. "I made a microscopical
examination of the water in your new spring, which rises, I venture to
remind you, through soil which is undoubtedly diatomaceous."
"That sounds awful."
"Diatoms in a fossilised condition are silicious, and they are to be
found in Virginia, in Bermuda, and here."
"Professor, I am an ignoramus."
"Then it is my duty to inform you that the man or woman who drinks
water from that spring is swallowing millions of tiny flint knives,
hard as diamond dust--indeed, diatomaceous earth is used commercially
as a polishing powder."
"You mean that if we drink that water we shall be polished off?"
The Professor glared. Like many distinguished scientists, he took
himself seriously, and he knew that this was a serious matter.
"Those tiny flint knives cut to ribands the mucous membrane."
"Fortunately," said Ajax, "we don't drink that water. The spring was
only developed a few days ago." In a graver voice he continued: "We
are exceedingly obliged to you. Of course we shall warn our men."
"Has nobody drunk of that spring?"
Ajax thought that he detected a note of disappointment. He replied
reflectively: "I don't think so. The cattle have used it. It doesn't
seem to have affected them."
"Are you sure of that?" he demanded sharply.
"You can ask our foreman."
Later, the Professor did so. Uncle Jake came out of the corrals,
carrying a branding-iron and found himself confronted by a short,
thick-set man with prominent, slightly congested grey eyes, which
shone keenly out of an immense head.
"I am Professor Chawner, of the Smithsonian. I wish to ask you a
question."
"Perfessor, I'm happy to meet ye. It tickles me to death to answer
questions. And I stand by the editor o' _The Tribune_. If I kin
co-operate in yer important work, why, count me in."
The Professor raised his grizzled brows in astonishment, but he said
politely--
"I am very much obliged to you. My question is this: 'Do the cattle
drink at the spring which bubbles out of that hill yonder?'"
"Some of 'em do."
"Regularly?"
"Not to say reglerly, Perfessor. It's this way with cattle on a ranch
as well watered as ours. They drink when they feel like it, and they
drink where the water is handy to the feed. Come to think of it, there
never has been much feed around that spring; and it never flowed good
and hard till we opened it a few days ago."
"Since you opened it, to your personal knowledge, have cattle drunk of
it?"
Uncle Jake scratched his head. The Professor's manner was impressive.
"Have you seen cattle actually drinking that water?"
"I dunno' as I have. I've seen 'em standing in it."
"Animals have remarkable subjective intelligence--what you would term
instincts. It would be extremely interesting to determine whether such
instincts have prevented them from drinking water unfit for animal
consumption."
"Unfit for animal consumption? By gosh, that's what killed our cow, I
reckon! We found her lyin' by the spring, cold an' stiff, two days
ago!"
"Have you buried the carcass?"
"Not much. Turkey-buzzards attend to our cow funerals."
"Of course. You look excited, my friend."
"I am. We've lost other cattle and colts in this yere pasture."
"Ah!" murmured the Professor. His expression became benignant.
"We s'posed," continued Uncle Jake, "that they died o' old age."
"You mentioned colts?"
"I did so. Colts die anyhow and anyway. It's a solid fact that we've
lost more animals in this pasture than anywheres else. I'll take my
oath to that."
"Good!" said the Professor heartily. "You have given to me information
of value."
The Professor returned to the corrals. Under the trees, close to the
creek, in whose cooling waters stood bottles of beer and wine, a
tender calf was being barbecued. Upon long willow spits sizzled and
frizzled toothsome morsels, made more toothsome by the addition of a
sauce cunningly compounded of chillies, tomatoes, and the pungent
onion. The Professor made a noble meal. He was delighted to observe
how few of the guests slaked their thirst with water, and he quoted
the famous quatrain:
"Let princes revel at the pump;
Let peers with ponds make free;
But whisky, beer, or even wine,
Is good enough for me."
After the _rodeo_, the Professor lighted a large cigar and
composed himself under a live-oak. His mind, ever active, was
wandering through the home-pasture seeking the fatal spring. He was
trying to estimate the effect of silicious matter upon the mucous
membrane of a cow, when he saw Dan, sombrero in hand, bowing low
before him.
"Hello!" said the Professor, his eye resting professionally upon Dan's
splendid proportions. What a "subject" to cut up! What a skeleton to
articulate!
"Perfessor!" said Dan, "I want you to hev a look at me."
The Professor looked at him.
"My young friend," he said genially, "you're worth looking at. Do you
drink water?"
"When I can't git nothing else," replied Dan.
"Water it is, and lots of it, except when I strike town."
"If you must drink water," said the Professor with authority, "have it
distilled."
"Jeeroosalem!" exclaimed Dan. "That's a gilt-edged idea. Perfessor,
ye're a pathologist, ain't yer?"
The Professor nodded. Genius, however exalted, acknowledges
unsolicited testimonials from any source. He saw plainly that in Dan's
eyes he loomed gigantic.
"I am," he replied graciously.
"A path-finder, a seeker-out of noo tracks to knowledge?"
"You might express it worse," said the Professor. "What can I do for
you?"
"I'm a mighty sick man," said Dan solemnly.
The Professor was so astonished that he nearly bit through his
excellent cigar; but at once a flame sparkled in his grey eyes. If
Dan, with his appearance of robust health, was really a mighty sick
man, why, then, his case challenged attention. He stood up and, so to
speak, spread his wings, hovering over his lawful prey.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"I'm afire with itching. At this moment I feel as if some dev'lish
imps was stickin' needles into me."
The Professor felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and nodded
sapiently.
"You've been drinking the water of that new spring."
"I hev. I helped open it up."
"Did you drink much of it?"
"Oceans!"
"My poor fellow, I am distressed beyond words. I promise you that you
shall have every care and attention. I won't leave this ranch till--
till the end."
"The end?"
"You are a remarkable specimen--probably you will make a gallant
fight--but I cannot disguise from you--it would be criminal to do so--
that you ought to put your house in order."
"Hav'n't got no house," said Dan, not quite comprehending, but sadly
frightened. "Me and Mame expected to build next year, but that's off."
"Next year!" echoed the Professor testily. "The question is: Where
will you be next week?"
Dan staggered. The Professor, having long retired from active
practice, remembered with a qualm that he might have broken this
appalling news more considerately. He said quietly--
"I beg your pardon. I ought to have tempered this; but you are an
American, and strong enough at this moment to know the truth. I may
pull you through. Without boasting, there is not another man in
America, or Europe either, who would say as much."
"Christopher Columbus!"
"I don't call myself that," said the Professor modestly, "but I may
claim to have discovered pathogenic continents. Now, my boy"--he took
hold firmly of Dan's arm--"I am going to put you to bed."
"No, you ain't," said Dan. "I've chores to do. I can't be spared."
The Professor nodded.
"You're a stout fellow. After all, half-an-hour won't make any
material difference."
"In half-an-hour you'll find me in the bunk-house. I'm obligated to
ye," he added hastily. "So long!"
He strode off. The Professor nodded approvingly. He had grit himself,
and esteemed it highly in others.
"I must pull him through," he muttered.
* * * * *
When the Professor reached the bunk-house, he found three tall strong
men awaiting him. Their faces, tanned by many suns, exhibited a
curious uniformity of tint--the colour of dirty gruel.