“Gentlemen, I repeat, it is a challenge.... The flag of the enemy is hung up boldly, flauntingly, in every public place.... Are we to permit this? Are we to sit idle and acknowledge ourselves beaten in the great struggle against Death? No, no, no! The Nation––yea, the whole civilized world––shrinks and shudders in terror before the sound of one dread word––tuberculosis!
“Our professional honor––our personal honor as well, gentlemen––is at stake. A solemn charge is laid upon us.... We 92 must die if need be; but we must conquer this monstrous scourge, which is the single cause of more than one death in every ten.”
And then, the deep silence which had marked the closing words:
“Gentlemen, I can cure consumption,” came the simple declaration. “If there are those among you who value Science more than gain; who are willing to dare with me, willing to pay the extreme price, if necessary––if there are any such among you, and I believe there are, meet with me in my rooms this evening.”
To the eight who accepted that invitation, Dr. De Young disclosed the details of his Great Experiment. It included, among many other things which no one but a physician can appreciate, the lending of their bodies to the Experiment’s exemplification. Of the eight, two had agreed to follow him to the end. Each of the three had placed his house in order, and here they were, nearing that end, whatever it was to be.
An hour passed, and now ahead in the distance a rough shanty came into view. It was the only house in sight, and the three men knew 93 it was to be theirs. In silence they drew up where the men were unpacking their goods.
“Good morning for ducks––saw a big flock of mallards back here in a pond,” observed the man who took their team.
The three doctors alighted without answering, and watching them, the man stroked a stubby red whisker in meditation.
“Lord, they’re a frost!” he commented.