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.
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