Creek, along whose banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked by
some tremendous letter of the alphabet, done in white paint against the
somber brown of the big building. Still farther to the west was a more
grateful and comforting sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted with
white sails and an occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under the
broiling sun. Over the water, through the distant summer haze, there
could be seen the dim line of the Canadian shore.

"Sit you down," cried Yates, putting both hands on the other's
shoulders, and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placing
his finger on the electric button, he added: "What will you drink?"

"I'll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble," said
Renmark.

Yates' hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side,
and he looked reproachfully at the professor.

"Great Heavens!" he cried, "have something mild. Don't go rashly in for
Buffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to it
gradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter."

"Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order what
you like for yourself."

"Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that." He pushed the button,
and, when the boy appeared, said: "Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge
it to Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water for
Yates, No. 520. There," he continued gleefully, "I'm going to have all
the drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I'll pay the bill,