"Lastwise," drawled Hank, "'Pears like whenever there's a movement one way, there ought to be an equal kick-back 'tother way." He hesitated for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "Reckon that's all I can think of offhand."
MacDowell repeated numbly, "That's all he can think of—offhand!" and staggered to his chair. He tottered for seconds, then dropped into it. "The product of a genius' thoughts for years. And he solves it in five minutes!"
Then he snapped out of it, and was he sore!
"You, Blakeson!" he yelled.
"Yeah?"
"This is one of your tricks! What do you mean by this outrageous imposter? You can't deceive me! This man has studied physics. He knows—"
"Physics?" interrupted Hank eagerly. "Say, you're darn tootin' I've studied physics. An' take it from me, all these here now drugstore things ain't no good. You get you a batch of fresh wild-cherry saplings, bile 'em in water for a half hour, an' add—"
"Quiet," I pleaded, "is requested for the sake of those who are asleep. Dr. MacDowell, I give you my word of honor Hank is just what he appears to be. A man of the soil, gifted with great talents. Or rather, one great talent—that of common sense."
"A—a moment!" MacDowell silenced me with an uplifted palm. "Mr. Cleaver, are you acquainted with the principles of Mendel?"
"Nup!" acknowledged Hank cheerfully.