seen done in a day--even with a
trained party! What's more, we can save three miles. Dale did that,
too!"

"This is encouraging, sir!" the old gentleman cried.

"It's more than that, Colonel--it's a find! Entirely disregarding the
fact that I'd made a reconnaissance, he dragged me about like a toy, and
finally, blest if he didn't scoot into a natural tunnel. I knew it was
there, too, but never thought of following it up! We can go through it
without turning a shovel of earth or shooting a stone. It not only saves
the three miles I spoke of, but a terrible amount of cutting, and
doesn't add a fraction to our ruling grade; bringing us out--I'll tell
you where it brings us out! You know a place, about three hundred feet
under a bold spur sticking to the north face of Snarly?--where a stream
boils down into a sort of cave and disappears?"

"Oh, yes. That is our natural freak around this country--that and your
tunnel! I know them well!"

"Well, we come out there, about two miles above this disappearing
stream. It's a cinch! By the way, what becomes of that stream?"

"No one knows. Years ago we painted several pieces of wood, and hacked
some logs in a certain way for identification, then let them all float
down and be sucked into that hole. None ever bobbed up at our end, and,
so far as we ever heard, they were never found floating on other
streams. I fancy the water rushes into some vast subterranean sea."

Zack came out with the beverage, Brent bowed to the Colonel, drank it
and sighed. It was an atrociously strong toddy, purposely made so by the
old servant to compensate for the long day's absence; and almost at
once, especially as he had eaten nothing since breakfast, its strength
began to tell.

"Zack, when Doctor Meal comes tonight, I wish you'd send him up to graft
a dozen mule legs on me."

"Mule legs, Marse Brent!" the old negro peered at him.

"I haven't heard from Meal," the old gentleman laughed. "But there is a
young doctor named Stone who will be here; he might do it."

There were, indeed, now two doctors in Buckville: the former old man
with a soft name, who wore long whiskers which served to hide the
missing collar and cravat, who had for forty years ministered to the
needs of the surrounding country, who rode a pacing mare and carried
medicines in a saddle-bag across her back;--and he of the hard name, who
had lately come as graduate of the University, who visited the sick in
a gasoline runabout