Bunch Grass Part 30

"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 n.o.body 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 carca.s.s?"

"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 n.o.ble 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.

"h.e.l.lo!" 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."