McNatt nodded. “I’ve been here four years. This is my fifth. I was sick my sophomore year and had to go home twice. Once I was away two months and another time I was gone five weeks. That put me behind and I had to take the year over. I guess I could have made it up, but the doctor wouldn’t allow it. I don’t mind at all, though. I like it here. The only thing is that the fellows I came along with have gone and I don’t know many now. But then I never was much for making acquaintances.” Willard viewed him curiously. McNatt was perhaps nearly nineteen, he thought. His head was large and his features prominent: a very beak-like nose extended well over a wide mouth, his rather pale eyes, which might have been either green or blue for all Willard could determine, were deepset under heavy brows and his chin jutted out almost aggressively. But in spite of his features McNatt did not impress Willard as being a forceful youth, nor did his expression, voice or manners suggest it. He had a pleasant, deep voice and spoke slowly, almost hesitantly, and, while he didn’t smile frequently, his countenance bespoke good humor. He had very dark-brown hair, and there was a good deal of it, and it was perceptibly wavy under the rim of his straw hat. The straw hat, like the rest of his attire, had seen better days. In fact, McNatt’s trousers, of blue serge that had changed to plum-color on the knees, would not have greatly interested an old clothes man! The garment that clothed the upper part of his body was equally disreputable, a dark-green coat-sweater with many darns and one pocket that was trying hard to get away. The shoes alone appeared to be of recent origin, but as they were caked with mud along the soles the fact would have escaped casual observation. “What made you think of this stunt?” asked Willard, nodding at the witch-hazel stick. McNatt’s countenance expressed faint surprise. “Why, I’ve always been very interested in scientific matters,” he replied gravely. “Oh,” said Willard, “do you call that science?” “I’m not sure,” answered the other slowly. “The diving-rod, as it is sometimes called, has been in use a great many years both for the discovery of water and metals. Taking science in its broader sense of truth ascertained and systematized, almost anything not capable of classification as an art may well be termed a science. While the affinity existing between the diving-rod and water or metals underground may be viewed as a phenomenon, yet when we make use of that affinity to produce systematic results we enter the realm of science.” Willard blinked. “I--I suppose so,” he agreed vaguely. “Can you find gold that way, too?” “It has been done, I think,” said McNatt. “I haven’t been able to find much data on that subject, though.”