Chapter 11

"When I found myself stony-broke, I hunted up my Baltimore relations. Some of them told me it was easier to marry money than to make it. My name--I'll keep that to myself, if you don't mind--had a certain value in the eyes of a rich girl I knew. At the same time there was another girl----"

"Ah--Dinah," Ajax murmured.

"We'll call her Dinah. Dinah," his voice shook for a moment, "Dinah cared for me, and I--I cared for her. But the girl with money had a blaring, knock-me-down sort of beauty that appeals to men. Lots of fellows were after her. Dinah had only me. Dinah was mine, if I chose to claim her; the other had to be won. The competition, plus the coin, ensnared me. I became engaged to the rich girl. I don't think I knew then what I was doing to--Dinah. Within a fortnight I was struck down with scarlet fever. The rich girl--she was game as a pebble--nursed me. I became delirious. My nurse listened to my ravings for two days and nights; then she went away. I came to my senses to find Dinah at my bedside. The other wrote later, releasing me from the engagement and bidding me marry the girl whose name had been on my lips a thousand times. I laughed, and showed the letter to Dinah. A friend promised me work. Dinah and I were going to live in a cottage, and be happy for ever and ever....

"And then she--sickened!"

In the dreary silence that followed, neither Ajax nor I were able to speak.

"And--and she died."

* * * * *

The poor fellow left us next day, and we never saw him again. It is to be remembered that he never encouraged Hetty Upham, whose infatuation was doubtless fanned by his indifference. She offered him bread, nay, cakes and ale, but he took instead a stone, because cakes and ale had lost their savour. We heard, afterwards, that he died on the Skagway Pass in an attempt to reach the Klondyke too early in the spring. He was seeking the gold of the Yukon placers; perhaps he found, beyond the Great White Silence, his Dinah.

XI

A POISONED SPRING

In our bunk-house three of the boys were about to turn into bed. They had worked hard all day, driving cattle into the home-pasture for the spring _rodeo_, and on the morrow they would have to work harder still, 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 the floor. He read aloud, in a sing-song drawl--

"'We are greatly honoured by the presence amongst us of Professor Adam Chawner, 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 to put into words. Then he said suavely--

"A pathologist is a kind o' pathfinder. Comes from the Greek, I reckon: _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 land of roses and sunshine, proposes to study at first hand the micrococci of a deadly disease which, we are given to understand, is peculiar to this part of California....'"

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

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

"Sleepin' sickness? What's that?"

"Dan, yer ignorance is disgraceful. Sleepin' sickness is common as hives amongst the cannibals. After a square meal o' missionary, the critters fall asleep, and they don't never wake up neither. Serve 'em right, 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 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.

Dan said in a voice that trembled--

"These are my friends, Jimmie Barker and Pete Holloway. They helped open 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 a heap worse."

"Heaven help you!" ejaculated the Professor.

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

The Professor muttered something encouraging, but he remembered the cow.

"To bed with you," he commanded.

Within half-an-hour everyone on the ranch had heard the news. The Professor 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 San Lorenzo 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 grey eyes sparkled angrily.

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

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

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

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

"My dear sir, I will try to gratify a not unreasonable curiosity. I did not wish to alarm you prematurely this morning, but the worst has happened. The silicious fragments in that confounded earth have lacerated terribly the mucous membranes of these three unfortunate young men. That in itself is a matter of small importance. The mucous membrane is most delicate, but it has quite amazing capacities of repairing itself. The point is this. The water in that spring, and-- I'll be perfectly frank--the water in most of the surface springs in this 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 as deadly as the _coma bacillus_ of Asiatic cholera, or--shall I say?--the highly specialised venom of the rattlesnake."

"Great Scot!"

"This _coccus_, my dear friend, increases and multiplies under certain conditions. It exacts a highly lacerated condition of the mucous membrane into which it burrows. Fortunately it is rare; fortunately, also, it is seldom found in water which has filtered through diatomaceous earth; for these fossilised deposits are only found 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 the moment there is nothing more to be done. They are in bed, and, not to put a fine point on it, half-drunk. Alcohol stupefies the _cocci_, but it does not destroy them. I shall pour whisky down their throats till the drugs I have ordered arrive from San Lorenzo. I have told your foreman that my patients are not to be disturbed. After supper 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 to induce stupor."

"How much?"

"At least a quart."

I said with deference--

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

"Perfectly."

"It stimulates first. Speaking from a variegated experience of cowboys, I should say that a quart of well-matured Bourbon would barely 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 that sort is easily rectified."

So speaking, he tiptoed to the door of the bunk-house, and, finger upon lips, entered. Immediately a sharp exclamation indicated that something surprising had occurred. I followed quickly, to find the Professor 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 be suspended. Uncle Jake had obeyed instructions only too well. He had not been near the bunk-house. Indeed, he and the other ranch hands had been eating supper more than a hundred yards away. He was the first to suggest that no cowboy travelled far afoot--a suggestion that sent the Professor at a smart trot towards the big barn. Here, also, were three vacant stalls.

The Professor's patients, illustrating pathetically the ruling passion, had mounted and galloped away. Uncle Jake said, with a curious air of conviction--

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

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

"I think it is possible, perhaps probable."

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

We hastened to the bunk-house. Yes, upon the floor lay flannel shirts and jumpers and overalls. In a corner, where the Professor had left it, 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 their medicine!"

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

Uncle Jake delivered himself--

"It's my idee that they've jest filled up three bottles. There's a rubbish 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 County Hospital before to-morrow morning, I shall have done a splendid night's work. Pick me out a decently mannered horse."

* * * * *

After the Professor had administered the first dose of alcohol, his patients lay quiet for at least three minutes. Then Jimmie said dolefully--

"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. When I'm gone, she'll remember that onst I was the greatest thing on this green 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 with sech 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 regards to the Perfessor, and tell him that he'll find us at old man Greiffenhagen'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' it medicine?"

"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 the arms o' ministerin' angels. Leave the demijohn with me."

"What! You'd hog all the medicine? Why, Pete Holloway, I thought you was 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 plenty for 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."