Bunch Grass: A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch

  XI

  A POISONED SPRING

  In our bunk-house three of the boys were about to turn into bed. Theyhad worked hard all day, driving cattle into the home-pasture for thespring _rodeo_, and on the morrow they would have to work harderstill, cutting out the steers and branding the calves.

  "Who is this Perfessor?" asked Dan.

  Jimmie, who was rubbing tallow on to his lariat, answered--

  "There's a piece about him in the _Tribune_."

  Pete picked up the county paper, which happened to be lying on thefloor. He read aloud, in a sing-song drawl--

  "'We are greatly honoured by the presence amongst us of Professor AdamChawner, the eminent surgeon and pathologist----'"

  "How's that?" demanded Dan.

  "Surgeon an' path--ologist."

  "What's path--ologist?"

  Pete expectorated a contempt for ignorance which he was too polite toput into words. Then he said suavely--

  "A pathologist is a kind o' pathfinder. Comes from the Greek, Ireckon: _path--logus_--skilled in finding noo paths to knowledge.See!"

  "If you ain't a walkin' dictionary!"

  "It comes nateral to me," Pete admitted modestly. He continued--

  "'The Professor, instead of taking a well-earned holiday in our landof roses and sunshine, proposes to study at first hand the micrococciof a deadly disease which, we are given to understand, is peculiar tothis part of California....'"

  "Never heard of a deadly disease peculiar to these parts," said Jimmiethoughtfully,--"always exceptin' Annie-dominie."

  "'Peculiar to this part of California,'" continued Pete, "'and likely,given certain conditions, to develop into an epidemic as terrible andmysterious as the sleeping sickness.'"

  "Sleepin' sickness? What's that?"

  "Dan, yer ignorance is disgraceful. Sleepin' sickness is common ashives amongst the cannibals. After a square meal o' missionary, thecritters fall asleep, and they don't never wake up neither. Serve 'emright, too."

  "Go on, Pete."

  Pete, with a thick thumb upon the right line, went on--

  "'The Professor's researches here may prove of vital importance. And,speaking for our fellow-citizens, we venture to assure thisdistinguished pathologist of our cordial desire to co-operate, so faras it may be possible, in the important work which he hasundertaken.'"

  "Slings words, that feller," remarked Jimmie. "But what in thunder isPerfessor 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, Iask you fellers straight: Has he come here to--work?"

  "Meanin'?"

  "If this yere deadly disease is on the rampage I, for one, 'd like toknow it."

  "Me too," drawled Dan.

  A silence followed as Jimmie coiled up his rope. Pete began to removehis boots. Dan, very furtively, placed a finger upon his pulse. Thenhe 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 howMiss 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 wasdyin', I couldn't forgive her!"

  "You don't say?" cried Jimmie. "Wal, Miss Edna Parkinson an' yourstruly ain't goin' ter speak never no more, neither. That hound IkeyGreenberg has cut in with a noo Prince Albert coat. It's upset meconsiderable."

  "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"--hebegan to scratch himself furiously--"I've a feelin' as if I was afireinside."

  "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 itquick. This yere Professor is on the ranch, and he's a dandy. Afterthe _rodeo_, you jest sachay up to him an' tell him what you'vetole 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 platformerected near the biggest of our corrals. This was his first visit toCalifornia, and he was mightily impressed by the skill and vigour ofthe vaqueroes. To Ajax he declared that he was amazed to find suchsplendid specimens in that particular locality. Ajax smiled.

  "We have not much," he said, "but we feel that we have a right toexpect high health. We used to say," he added, "that sickness wasunknown 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 microscopicalexamination of the water in your new spring, which rises, I venture toremind you, through soil which is undoubtedly diatomaceous."

  "That sounds awful."

  "Diatoms in a fossilised condition are silicious, and they are to befound 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 drinkswater from that spring is swallowing millions of tiny flint knives,hard as diamond dust--indeed, diatomaceous earth is used commerciallyas a polishing powder."

  "You mean that if we drink that water we shall be polished off?"

  The Professor glared. Like many distinguished scientists, he tookhimself 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 wasonly developed a few days ago." In a graver voice he continued: "Weare 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 repliedreflectively: "I don't think so. The cattle have used it. It doesn'tseem 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, whichshone keenly out of an immense head.

  "I am Professor Chawner, of the Smithsonian. I wish to ask you aquestion."

  "Perfessor, I'm happy to meet ye. It tickles me to death to answerquestions. And I stand by the editor o' _The Tribune_. If I kinco-operate in yer important work, why, count me in."

  The Professor raised his grizzled brows in astonishment, but he saidpolitely--

  "I am very much obliged to you. My question is this: 'Do the cattledrink 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 ranchas well watered as ours. They drink when they feel like it, and theydrink where the water is handy to the feed. Come to think of it, therenever has been much feed around that spring; and it never flowed goodand hard till we opened it a few days ago."

  "Since you opened it, to your personal knowledge, have cattle drunk ofit?"

  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 terminstincts. It would be extremely interesting to determine whether suchinstincts have prevented them from drinking
water unfit for animalconsumption."

  "Unfit for animal consumption? By gosh, that's what killed our cow, Ireckon! We found her lyin' by the spring, cold an' stiff, two daysago!"

  "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'velost more animals in this pasture than anywheres else. I'll take myoath to that."

  "Good!" said the Professor heartily. "You have given to me informationof value."

  The Professor returned to the corrals. Under the trees, close to thecreek, in whose cooling waters stood bottles of beer and wine, atender calf was being barbecued. Upon long willow spits sizzled andfrizzled toothsome morsels, made more toothsome by the addition of asauce cunningly compounded of chillies, tomatoes, and the pungentonion. The Professor made a noble meal. He was delighted to observehow few of the guests slaked their thirst with water, and he quotedthe 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 andcomposed himself under a live-oak. His mind, ever active, waswandering through the home-pasture seeking the fatal spring. He wastrying to estimate the effect of silicious matter upon the mucousmembrane of a cow, when he saw Dan, sombrero in hand, bowing lowbefore him.

  "Hello!" said the Professor, his eye resting professionally upon Dan'ssplendid proportions. What a "subject" to cut up! What a skeleton toarticulate!

  "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 youdrink 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 itdistilled."

  "Jeeroosalem!" exclaimed Dan. "That's a gilt-edged idea. Perfessor,ye're a pathologist, ain't yer?"

  The Professor nodded. Genius, however exalted, acknowledgesunsolicited testimonials from any source. He saw plainly that in Dan'seyes 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 foryou?"

  "I'm a mighty sick man," said Dan solemnly.

  The Professor was so astonished that he nearly bit through hisexcellent cigar; but at once a flame sparkled in his grey eyes. IfDan, with his appearance of robust health, was really a mighty sickman, why, then, his case challenged attention. He stood up and, so tospeak, 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'lishimps was stickin' needles into me."

  The Professor felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and noddedsapiently.

  "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 youshall 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 gallantfight--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 sadlyfrightened. "Me and Mame expected to build next year, but that's off."

  "Next year!" echoed the Professor testily. "The question is: Wherewill you be next week?"

  Dan staggered. The Professor, having long retired from activepractice, remembered with a qualm that he might have broken thisappalling news more considerately. He said quietly--

  "I beg your pardon. I ought to have tempered this; but you are anAmerican, and strong enough at this moment to know the truth. I maypull you through. Without boasting, there is not another man inAmerica, or Europe either, who would say as much."

  "Christopher Columbus!"

  "I don't call myself that," said the Professor modestly, "but I mayclaim to have discovered pathogenic continents. Now, my boy"--he tookhold 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 anymaterial difference."

  "In half-an-hour you'll find me in the bunk-house. I'm obligated toye," 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 strongmen awaiting him. Their faces, tanned by many suns, exhibited acurious uniformity of tint--the colour of dirty gruel.

  Dan said in a voice that trembled--

  "These are my friends, Jimmie Barker and Pete Holloway. They helpedopen up that derned spring. They drank a plenty of the water. Jimmie,here, couldn't git enough of it. They've the same symptoms as I hev."

  Jimmie and Pete writhed.

  "Pins and needles all over," said Pete.

  "Went to sleep on an ants' nest onst," said Jimmie faintly. "This is aheap worse."

  "Heaven help you!" ejaculated the Professor.

  "'Pears to me," said Dan solemnly, "from what you said just now, we'rein the mulligatawny."

  The Professor muttered something encouraging, but he remembered thecow.

  "To bed with you," he commanded.

  Within half-an-hour everyone on the ranch had heard the news. TheProfessor alone remained monumentally impassive.

  "All that is humanly possible shall be done," he affirmed.

  "And your treatment?" said I.

  "I have no drugs here, but already I have despatched a man to SanLorenzo for strychnia, which in the first stage is invaluable.Meantime I must do what I can with whisky. Have you plenty of whisky?"

  "Yes, but----"

  "I want a gallon of it."

  "Of course you are aware--you know, I mean----"

  The Professor waved a powerful arm; beneath his shaggy brows his greyeyes sparkled angrily.

  "I know what I am doing," he said sharply, "and I cannot wastevaluable time imparting to a layman knowledge gathered during alifetime. The whisky, please--_at once_."

  I obeyed meekly. Five minutes later, the Professor was walking towardsthe bunk-house with a gallon demijohn tucked under his arm. A quarterof an hour afterwards he might have been seen returning. His eyes werepositively snapping with vigour and excitement, for he loved a fightfor a fight's sake. Ajax met him.

  "Professor," he said, "I don't want you to impart the knowledge of alifetime to me, but do, please, tell us something. We are on edge withanxiety."

  The man of science melted. With a shrug of his massive shoulders, hesaid, mildly for him--

  "My dear sir, I will try to gratify a not unreasonable curiosity. Idid not wish to alarm you prematurely this morning, but the worst hashappened. The silicious fragments in that confounded earth havelacerated terribly the mucous membranes of these three unfortunateyoung men. That in itself is a matter of small importance. The mucousmembrane is most delicate, but it has quite amazing capacities ofrepairing itself. The point is this. The water in that spring, and--I'll be perfectly frank--the water
in most of the surface springs inthis particular locality, is simply swarming with pathogenic germs,and amongst them I identified this morning the as yet unnamed_coccus_ which I had the honour to discover, and which is asdeadly as the _coma bacillus_ of Asiatic cholera, or--shall Isay?--the highly specialised venom of the rattlesnake."

  "Great Scot!"

  "This _coccus_, my dear friend, increases and multiplies undercertain conditions. It exacts a highly lacerated condition of themucous membrane into which it burrows. Fortunately it is rare;fortunately, also, it is seldom found in water which has filteredthrough diatomaceous earth; for these fossilised deposits are onlyfound here and there, and, as a rule, not near water."

  "They are three good fellows."

  "I hope to pull them through," said the Professor stoutly. "For themoment there is nothing more to be done. They are in bed, and, not toput a fine point on it, half-drunk. Alcohol stupefies the_cocci_, but it does not destroy them. I shall pour whisky downtheir throats till the drugs I have ordered arrive from San Lorenzo. Ihave told your foreman that my patients are not to be disturbed. Aftersupper I shall administer another dose of whisky."

  An hour later, the Professor, accompanied by me, returned to the bunk-house.

  "I hope to find them asleep," he said. "I gave them enough alcohol toinduce stupor."

  "How much?"

  "At least a quart."

  I said with deference--

  "I do not presume to question your treatment, but cowboys can carry anamazing quantity of whisky. Alcohol is a stimulant-narcotic, isn'tit?"

  "Perfectly."

  "It stimulates first. Speaking from a variegated experience ofcowboys, I should say that a quart of well-matured Bourbon wouldbarely suffice to stimulate three powerful young men."

  "'Um!" said the Professor thoughtfully. "I had not considered that.They assured me they were water-drinkers. However, a mistake of thatsort is easily rectified."

  So speaking, he tiptoed to the door of the bunk-house, and, fingerupon lips, entered. Immediately a sharp exclamation indicated thatsomething surprising had occurred. I followed quickly, to find theProfessor staring, pop-eyed, at three vacant bunks.

  "Gone!" said the Professor, in stupefaction.

  "They can't have gone far, sir."

  But within five minutes judgment upon this important point had to besuspended. Uncle Jake had obeyed instructions only too well. He hadnot been near the bunk-house. Indeed, he and the other ranch hands hadbeen eating supper more than a hundred yards away. He was the first tosuggest that no cowboy travelled far afoot--a suggestion that sent theProfessor at a smart trot towards the big barn. Here, also, were threevacant stalls.

  The Professor's patients, illustrating pathetically the rulingpassion, had mounted and galloped away. Uncle Jake said, with acurious air of conviction--

  "It's my idee that they want to hev one good time in town before theycash in their checks."

  "Incredible!" ejaculated the famous pathologist. He looked askance atme. I replied hesitatingly--

  "I think it is possible, perhaps probable."

  "If they're makin' San Lorenzy," said Uncle Jake, "we'll find theirstore clothes gone too."

  We hastened to the bunk-house. Yes, upon the floor lay flannel shirtsand jumpers and overalls. In a corner, where the Professor had leftit, stood the demijohn of whisky. Uncle Jake lifted it.

  "Gosh," said he, "the whisky's gone, too!"

  "Thank Heaven!" muttered the Professor, wiping his forehead.

  "Why?"

  "Don't you understand? By the luck of things, they've taken theirmedicine!"

  "A quart apiece!" I gasped. "We shall find them dead drunk on theroad."

  Uncle Jake delivered himself--

  "It's my idee that they've jest filled up three bottles. There's arubbish heap outside."

  "We must follow them," said the Professor, grimly. He was no horseman,and San Lorenzo was six-and-twenty miles away.

  "Yes," said Uncle Jake.

  As they approached the barn, the Professor whispered to me--

  "There is nothing to regret. If I can get these boys into the CountyHospital before to-morrow morning, I shall have done a splendidnight's work. Pick me out a decently mannered horse."

  * * * * *

  After the Professor had administered the first dose of alcohol, hispatients lay quiet for at least three minutes. Then Jimmie saiddolefully--

  "Badly as she's treated me, I'd like to kiss my Edna good-bye."

  In the silence that followed Pete's rather rasping voice was heard--

  "I ain't got no best girl!"

  "Ye're in luck," groaned Dan. "This may break pore Mame's heart. WhenI'm gone, she'll remember that onst I was the greatest thing on thisgreen earth to her."

  Presently Pete remarked: "Surgeon an' pathologist is the Perfessor."

  "Meanin'?"

  "Like as not he'll operate."

  "Operate?"

  "Cut us open, you derned fool!"

  Dan retorted savagely: "Now ye're so near yer end, I'd go easy withsech talk, if I was you."

  "I beg yer pardon," said Pete, "but I'm scairt of the Perfessor's eye.Anyways, sink or swim, I'll hev no man gittin' his knife into me."

  Dan sat up.

  "Boys," he said emphatically, "you kin do as you please, but I'm goin'to hev a las' kind word with my Mame."

  He slipped out of his bunk.

  "Me too," said Jimmie. He glanced at Pete, who lay still. "My regardsto the Perfessor, and tell him that he'll find us at old manGreiffenhagen's. I'll hev one more taste of happiness before I die."

  Dan hauled out his battered trunk and opened it. Pete sat up.

  "Talkin' o' tasting, so will I," said he. "Give me that ther demijohn.I'll die like the Dook o' Clarence."

  Jimmie picked up the demijohn and looked at it with lingering eyes.

  "Sorry I promised Maw to let whisky alone."

  "If it comes to that," said Pete, "what's the matter with callin' itmedicine?"

  "Gee! So it is." He took out the cork and tipped up the demijohn,balancing it skilfully upon his right forearm.

  "Pass it over," said Pete.

  "After you," added Dan.

  "Go easy," said Pete shortly. "You two fellers mean to expire in thearms o' ministerin' angels. Leave the demijohn with me."

  "What! You'd hog all the medicine? Why, Pete Holloway, I thought youwas white!"

  "Put that demijohn down."

  Dan glanced at Jimmie, who was drawing on his best pants.

  "Say, Jimmie, we'll hev to take the medicine along. There's a plentyfor Pete in the cellar."

  Pete slipped out of his bunk.

  "Look ye here," he said. "I ain't goin' to face the Perfessor alone.I'll come with ye, but let there be no huggin' before me; and, I say,divide the medicine."

  "Now yer talkin'," said Dan, approvingly.

  The three men dressed rapidly, opened the door, and peered out. Nobodybeing in sight, they secured three empty bottles, which they filledwith the medicine. Five minutes later they were leading their saddle-horses out of the barn. Unobserved, they mounted and took the road.

  "How air you two feelin'?" said Pete, as they broke into an easy"lope."

  "Thunder and Mars!" exclaimed Dan. "It's a doggoned fact, but I'mfeeling fine."

  "It's the medicine," said Jimmie, athirst for more.

  "The Perfessor's a stem-winder, an' no mistake," said Pete. "Let'sdrink his health--onst."

  They did so--twice.

  Old man Greiffenhagen's was about two miles distant. With him lodgedMiss Edna Parkinson and Miss Mary Willing. These young ladies werebosom friends, and members of the Women's Christian Temperance Union.We describe them adequately enough by adding that they were capable,pretty and good.

  By this time it was nearly nine o'clock, but a light shone in theGreiffenhagen parlour. As the young men dismounted and hitched theirhorses to the fence, the strains from an American organ were heard.

  Pet
e rapped upon the door, which was opened by Greiffenhagen. He keptthe village store, which was also the post-office, and, althoughGerman himself, had married an American wife. Pete said in a loudvoice--

  "It's kind o' late, but this is a P.P.C. call."

  As he spoke, there was wafted to the nostrils of Greiffenhagen thefamiliar fragrance of Bourbon. He glanced at Dan and Jimmie. Eachappeared almost abnormally sober and solemn. At this moment Miss MaryWilling flitted up.

  "Why, it's Mr. Holloway!" she exclaimed stiffly.

  The three entered. As they passed the threshold, Jimmie stumbled, butrecovered himself. He saluted the ladies with decorum, and the threesat down upon the edge of the chairs that were offered to them. ThenMiss Edna Parkinson, who was the only person present besides Pete whounderstood what was meant by a P.P.C. call, and who knew also that,the big _rodeo_ being over, it was possible that the threecowboys had been discharged, said sympathetically--

  "You ain't leaving these parts, are you?"

  Pete answered grimly: "It's more'n likely that we air."

  Edna glanced at Mamie, who was sniffing.

  "What is it I smell?" she asked.

  "Medicine," said Dan. He knew that Pete, the walking dictionary, couldbe trusted to break the appalling news to these unhappy girls. Heglanced at Mr. Holloway and nodded.

  "Yes," said Pete, "you smell medicine. It was prescribed by thedistinguished surgeon an' pathologist, Perfessor Adam Chawner."

  "Prescribed? Why?"

  Once, in the dear dead days that were gone, Pete had owned a bestgirl, who had treated him ill. Ever since he had exhibited a not toochivalrous desire to "git even" with the fond but fickle sex. Also hehad no respect for the W.C.T.U.

  "The trouble come o' drinkin' too much water."

  "Too much water?"

  "We three hev bin wallerin' at a pizoned spring. The Perfessor maypull us through, but it's no cert. Much the contrairy. Likely as notyou'll be attendin' our funerals within' the week. Dan and Jimmie tuka notion that they'd like to forgive ye, an' I come along too becauseI reckon misery loves company. But I made this stippilation--nohuggin' before me, if you please."

  "Is he--d-d-drunk?" faltered Edna.

  "I'm nearly drunk," said Pete. "This yere pizon is same as rattlesnakepizon. We've got to be kep' filled plum up with whisky." He producedhis bottle and placed it carefully upon the floor, then he added:"When I can't help myself, I count on you, old man"--he looked atGreiffenhagen--"to pour it down my throat."

  "Dan," said Miss Willing, "can't you say something?"

  "I'm razzle-dazzled," said Dan. "But I couldn't die without forgivin'yer."

  "Edna," said Jimmie, with a sob in his voice, "I have no hard feelin'sleft."

  "These three _beasts_," said Mrs. Greiffenhagen, in a hard,unwavering voice, "are disgracefully and unblushingly intoxicated.Girls, leave the room!"

  The girls looked at each other. Mamie Willing leapt to the situation.Upon a small marble-topped table reposed an immense family Bible.Mamie lifted it and approached Pete.

  "Swear on this that your terrible story is true."

  "I swear," said Pete solemnly, and he kissed the Book. Edna flungherself into Jimmie's arms; Mamie, after replacing the Bible, kneltsobbing at Dan's side. Pete said helplessly to old man Greiffenhagen:"Take me outer this!"

  Mrs. Greiffenhagen said in the same hard monotone: "Mr. Greiffenhagen,either these men leave this house or I do."

  The storekeeper led his wife aside and whispered to her. She noddednone too graciously, and he hurried from the room.

  "Wheer's he goin'?" asked Pete.

  "He's goin' up ter the ranch-house," said Mrs. Greiffenhagenspitefully, "ter fetch the Professor."

  "Very right an' proper," yawned Pete. "Would it be trespassin' toomuch on yer kindness to ask for three glasses? It's time we downedsome more medicine, an' I don't like to drink outer the bottle in thisyere parlour."

  Mrs. Greiffenhagen folded her hands. She had been heard to declare inpublic that if she were dying, and a thimbleful of whisky wouldrestore her to health and Mr. Greiffenhagen, she would not swallow it.

  The three men took more medicine. Presently Mamie supported Dan to thesofa; Edna was sitting on the floor with Jimmie's head on her lap.Mrs. Greiffenhagen glared at Pete, who from time to time kissed hishand to her. Not till she heard footsteps on the porch outside did thegood lady rise from her chair. She opened the door to admit herhusband. He reeled in.

  "You too!" she said in a freezing voice.

  Greiffenhagen explained. The boys were really poisoned, and whiskymust be poured down their throats till stronger remedies arrived. TheProfessor, Ajax, and Uncle Jake were riding to San Lorenzo upon awild-goose chase. He added that the boss was driving down with morewhisky.

  Within a few minutes I arrived with the whisky; and Mrs. Greiffenhagenwas constrained to unbend. It was decided to put the men to bed,pending the arrival of the Professor. Two vaqueros were gallopingafter him in the hope of overtaking him before he had gone too far.Dan was undressed and placed in Miss Willing's muslin-curtained bed;Jimmie who would not permit his clothes to be removed, was laid uponthe couch of Edna Parkinson. Pete was carried into the Greiffenhagenbedroom, and deposited, boots and all, upon a spotless whitebedspread.

  "Jiminy Christmas," said Greiffenhagen, "ain't it awful!"

  At regular intervals the medicine was administered. Finally, what theProfessor had desired came to pass. The three men lay senseless,breathing stertorously. To achieve this result more than a gallon ofthe best whisky had been used! Mamie and Edna began to exhibitsymptoms of hysteria.

  "I'll never leave my Dan--never!" declared Mamie, when it wassuggested that she should return to the parlour.

  "Jimmie, dear," sobbed Edna, "if you'll promise me not to die, I'llnever speak to Mr. Greenberg again!"

  * * * * *

  At about six the next morning Pete Holloway woke up. He opened hiseyes, groaned deeply, and closed them again.

  "How are you feeling, Pete?" said I.

  Pete groaned again, for memory of all that had passed came to him.With a tremendous effort he said--

  "I'm dyin'!"

  And he looked it.

  In Miss Parkinson's bower, Jimmie Barker was saying faintly: "Kiss megood-bye, Edna; the hour has come!"

  Shortly before, Mamie had whispered to Dan: "Darling, can you forgiveme?" And he had replied fervently: "Mame, if Jack Rice kin make youhappy, you take him."

  Greiffenhagen had tried to administer more medicine. The boys refusedto touch it. Pete expressed the feelings of the others when hemuttered: "I ain't goin' to cross the Jordan drunk!"

  It seemed to me that the three men were sinking. Mrs. Greiffenhagen,an impassioned pessimist, was of opinion that they couldn't lastanother hour!

  At nine, when our nerves had been strained to breaking-point, Ajax anda big-bearded stranger galloped up to Greiffenhagen's house.

  "It's Doc. Elkins, of San Lorenzy," said a hired man.

  "The boys are sinking!" sobbed Mrs. Greiffenhagen. "Where is theProfessor?"

  "I left him in San Lorenzo."

  Elkins and Ajax rushed upstairs and into the Greiffenhagen bedroom.Elkins glanced at Pete, felt his pulse, and then said deliberately--

  "My man, you're dying of sheer funk! You've poisoned yourself withnothing more deadly than good Kentucky whisky! In six hours you'll beperfectly well again."

  Pete heard, and pulled himself together. It struck him that this wasnot the first time that he had felt nearly dead after imbibing muchwhisky.

  "But the Perfessor?" he asked feebly.

  "Professor Adam Chawner," said Elkins in a clear voice, "is in astrait-waistcoat at the County Hospital. He will get over this, butnot so quickly as you will. He is quite mad for the moment about adeadly microbe which only exists in his imagination."

  The partitions in most Californian houses are indecently thin. AsElkins's voice died away--and Pete said afterwards it was like astrain of heaven
ly music--a feeble cheer was heard from the chamberusually occupied by Miss Mary Willing.

  "Jimmie," cried Dan, "air you dead yet?"

  "Not quite," came an attenuated whisper from the other side of thepassage.

  "We'll live to be married, old socks," continued Dan in a robustervoice, "but I've got the worst dose o' prickly heat you ever saw."

  The following day our three friends were riding the range. Six monthsafterwards, Professor Adam Chawner resumed his work at the SmithsonianInstitute.