"Gone!" said the Professor, in stupefaction.
"They can't have gone far, sir."
But within five minutes judgment upon this important point had to be suspended. Uncle Jake had obeyed instructions only too well. He had not been near the bunk-house. Indeed, he and the other ranch hands had been eating supper more than a hundred yards away. He was the first to suggest that no cowboy travelled far afoot--a suggestion that sent the Professor at a smart trot towards the big barn. Here, also, were three vacant stalls.
The Professor's patients, illustrating pathetically the ruling passion, had mounted and galloped away. Uncle Jake said, with a curious air of conviction--
"It's my idee that they want to hev one good time in town before they cash in their checks."
"Incredible!" ejaculated the famous pathologist. He looked askance at me. I replied hesitatingly--
"I think it is possible, perhaps probable."
"If they're makin' San Lorenzy," said Uncle Jake, "we'll find their store clothes gone too."
We hastened to the bunk-house. Yes, upon the floor lay flannel shirts and jumpers and overalls. In a corner, where the Professor had left it, stood the demijohn of whisky. Uncle Jake lifted it.
"Gosh," said he, "the whisky's gone, too!"