The boys could plainly see that the horses were indeed very sick and the hot tears sprang to their eyes as they looked at the suffering animals.
“Any idea what caused it?” Bob asked.
“Oui, I tink it in der oats. You come here. I show you,” Sam replied, leading the way to one end of the shed.
He caught up a peck measure and, lifting the cover of a bin, scooped it about two-thirds full of oats. The boys noticed that the bin was nearly empty. He then sat the measure on the top of a box and began to shake it violently back and forth. Then, with his hands, he shoveled the oats back in the bin. As soon as the measure was emptied he held it out to Bob.
“You see,” he cried excitedly.
Bob and Jack both looked into the measure and saw, on the bottom, a thin coating of a fine white powder.
“That stuff no should be in der oats,” Sam declared.
“I should say not,” Bob agreed, as he touched the powder with his finger and carefully touched his tongue to it. “You come with me,” he cried, leading the way toward the cook house.
The cook had a roaring fire in the stove, and taking a pinch of the powder he threw it on to the hot lid. Instantly a white vapor rose in the air.
“I thought so,” he declared, turning to Sam, who was standing close by with a puzzled expression on his face. “Now Sam, when I put another bit on the stove, I want you to get your nose into that smoke and tell me what it smells like. It won’t hurt you.”