“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!”