"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.
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