“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.