"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.