Efforts for the recovery of the cow went on. Elihu Perkins
exhausted all his science in her behalf. I do not propose to detail
his treatment, because I am not sure whether it was the best, and
possibly some of my readers might adopt it under similar circumstances,
and then blame me for its unfortunate issue. It is enough to say
that the cow grew rapidly worse in spite of the hot-water treatment,
and about eleven o'clock breathed her last. The sad intelligence
was announced by Elihu, who first perceived it.

"The critter's gone," he said. "'Tain't no use doin' anything more."

"The cow's dead!" repeated Mr. Walton, sorrowfully. He had known
for an hour that this would be the probable termination of the
disease. Still while there was life there was hope. Now both went
out together.

"Yes, the critter's dead!" said Elihu, philosophically, for he lost
nothing by her. "It was so to be, and there wa'n't no help for it.
That's what I thought from the fust, but I was willin' to try."

"Wasn't there anything that could have saved her?"

Elihu shook his head decidedly.

"If she could a-been saved, I could 'ave done it," he said. "What
I don't know about cow diseases ain't wuth knowin'."

Everyone is more or less conceited. Elihu's conceit was as to his
scientific knowledge on the subject of cows and horses and their
diseases. He spoke so confidently that Mr. Walton did not venture