"I want Hart here first," said Smithers. "He's a know-it-all, but he's got a good head and good training in spite of it. Someday he'll be a good man, and you'll need one after I'm gone."
"I'll go," said Ken. "You've already been out, Dad. It's only 4 or 5 blocks, and I feel fine."
"Well, if you feel strong enough," said his father hesitantly. Fatigue was obvious in his face.
Dr. Hart was asleep when Ken pounded on his door. He persisted until the veterinarian came, sleepily and rebelliously. Ken told his story quickly.
Hart grunted in a surly voice. "Anthrax! That fool Smithers probably wouldn't know a case of anthrax if it stared him in the face. Tell him to give your horse a shot of terramycin, and I'll come around in the morning. If I went out on every scare, I'd never get any sleep."
"Dr. Hart," Ken said quietly. "You know what it means if it is anthrax."
The veterinarian blinked under Ken's accusing stare. "All right," he said finally. "But if Smithers is getting me out on a wild-goose chase I'll run him out of town!"
Smithers and Professor Maddox were still beside the ailing horse when Ken returned with Dr. Hart. No one spoke a word as they came up. Hart went to work on his examination, Ken holding the lantern for him.
"Here's a carbuncle, right back of the ear!" he said accusingly. "Didn't anybody notice this earlier?"
"I'm afraid not," Ken admitted. "I guess I haven't taken very good care of him."