“Henry ain’t dead, too,” said Frijole in amazement. “Henry, what happened to you?”
“Never mind me,” replied Henry. “What happened to that other team and wagon?”
“You saw it, too, huh?” asked Slim. “I didn’t. I was huntin’ for that jug in the back of the buckboard.”
“Did you find it?” asked Oscar’s voice, very weakly. “Ay could use it.”
“I had it before the crash,” said Frijole.
“Vait a minute!” snorted Oscar. “Ve must check up. Slim, are you and Hanry and Freeholey oil right?”
“No,” replied Henry, “but we’ll do, I suppose. Why?”
“Ay have found somebody else.”
Oscar scratched a match, and yelled, “Yudas Priest! Das is Professor Fossil!”
They all stumbled over and made a match-light examination of Professor Charles Winston Norbert. He was all dressed up in a black suit, white shirt and very high, starched collar. Slim said, “From the way he’s dressed, he must have knowed—”