After one of those long silences that come so easily at such a time, Dan tossed a pebble far out into the big pool and watched it sink down, down, down, until he lost it in the unknown depths.
"Doctor, where does it come from?"
"Where does what come from?"
"This stream. You say its volume is always the same—that it is unaffected by heavy rains or long droughts. How do you account for it?"
"I don't account for it," grunted the Doctor, with a twinkle in his eye,
"I fish in it."
Dan laughed. "And that," he said slowly, "is your philosophy of life."
The other made no answer.
Choosing another pebble carefully, Dan said, "Speaking as a preacher—please elaborate."
"Speaking as a practitioner—you try it," returned the Doctor.
The big fellow stretched himself out on his back, with his hands clasped beneath his head. He spoke deliberately.