"No, it isn't very pleasant," agreed the veterinarian.
And then Bud, who had been in a serious, brown study seemed, for the first time, to become aware of the evil odor.
"That smell! That smell!" he cried. "I've smelled it before!"
"Not unless you came in contact with the germs," spoke Dr. Tunison. "Where did you smell it, Bud?"
But, as suddenly as he had spoken, Bud Merkel became silent. He seemed to be thinking deeply, and as he turned aside he said:
"Oh, maybe it was when Old Billee rode in to tell me he had seen these dead steers."
"Possibly," admitted the veterinarian. "The smell is very characteristic, as I said. But you'd better arrange to bury these animals, Bud."
"There isn't any danger—I mean to humans; is there?" Bud asked. "If there is we'll let 'em stay here. The buzzards will make short work of 'em."
"No, there's no danger to man, even in directly handling the germs. That has been proved," said Dr. Tunison. "But if you let the cattle lie here, and the buzzards eat 'em, in some manner the disease may be carried to your other cattle. Best bury 'em, and fence off this water-hole."
Which was done. So the evil-looking buzzards were deprived of a feast, and flapped mournfully away.