“Experiment? What experiment?” inquired Professor McCloud indignantly. “Did you bring this cow here, sir?”
“Well I did, but I didn’t lead her upstairs. She followed a line of salt some one had sprinkled. She’s terrible fond of salt. All critters is.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the principal.
“Why I was visited by one of your teachers yesterday—at least he said he was a teacher—and he paid me five dollars for the hire of my cow for this afternoon. Said the faculty of the high school was going to experiment on her. Make her moo into one of them phonograph machines and then see if cows had a language of their own. Said it was for the benefit of the human race. So I agreed to bring the critter here. I left her with the teacher who met me downstairs, and then I went off to git a drink of cider. When I come back the cow was gone and I heard a terrible racket. Then I see some one had sprinkled a line of salt from that court, where I left the critter, right up the stairs. Course I knowed then what had happened. Is the experiment over?”
“What teacher came to you?” asked the principal, trying not to smile.
“Why he gave me his card,” and the farmer fumbled in his pocket. “Here it is. Mr. Bo Vine. Don’t he teach here?”
“I’m afraid there has been a mistake,” said Mr. McCloud. “We did not arrange for any experiment on a cow. I am sorry you had this trouble for nothing.”
“Oh, I got paid for it,” replied the farmer. “Maybe I made a mistake in the school.”
“Perhaps,” said the principal. “Can you induce your bovine quadruped to accompany you?”
“My what?” asked the farmer, looking about him in a puzzled manner.