"No," agreed Bud. "And it can't be anything but poison of some sort, for I'm sure they weren't struck by lightning."
"There was no storm last night," declared Nort.
As Dick had said, the cows were a total loss, or nearly so, for it would hardly pay to have a skinner come out to flay off the hides of such a small number. Often when a cow or steer is killed by accident the carcass is fit to eat and there is fresh beef on the ranch or the carcass may be sold to the nearest butcher. But in this case it would have been dangerous and foolish to use this cow meat for food.
"Nothing to do but bury 'em and forget it, I guess," sighed Dick. "But it's quite a loss."
"It sure is," remarked Bud. "But we're not going to bury 'em right away—at least not all of 'em, and we're not going to forget it."
"No, I didn't mean just that," went on Dick. "We've got to get to the bottom of this. But why not bury the bodies, Bud?"
"Oh, that will have to be done, of course. But I mean to have some sort of a doctor come out here and look at these cows, or at one of them. Maybe he can tell what killed 'em."
"Good idea," said Nort. "There may be a horse doctor in town."
"I think there is," spoke Bud. "And we'll see if he can tell us anything about what that Life Elixer is composed of. I'd like to have that analyzed."
"Do you think that, or the queer old man, had anything to do with the death of these cows?" Dick wanted to know.