The Freshman should never have allowed himself to go to sleep so easily. By the time Perkins and Mason tiptoed up to his room, he was sprawled out on his back, snoring with a healthfulness that was positively vulgar. Mason gave the leader a significant punch and drew him down the hall to his room. "See here, Perk," he said, "if he keeps up that gag to-morrow I have a scheme that is a pipe." The invalid wore a woe-begone expression when the two fellows went in before breakfast. "Are you any better?" asked Perkins. "No," said Van, miserably. "The pain is just as bad. I guess I'll have to see a doctor after all." "How did you sleep?" inquired Perkins. "Bum. My fever was high all night," moaned the sufferer. "I heard you fellows come up, and I hoped someone might drop in. I suppose you were all too sleepy." "Yes," said Mason, with a side look at Perkins, "everybody went right to sleep." "Well," said the leader, "we'll go down to breakfast now, and then we will get a doctor to see you before we have to go." Neither of them stopped to eat. They hurried first to the Polyclinic. There Perkins asked for the name of one or two physicians who were known to have little practice, and who could afford to take charge of a man who would require constant attention for a week, a middle-aged person preferred. The man in charge gave them three names and addresses. They went first to a Doctor Mead, who displayed his shingle in a quiet street. He was a big, slow-spoken man, somewhat shabbily dressed. Jimmy Mason approached him with such hesitation in his voice as befitted the part he was playing. They wanted the doctor on a delicate matter, he explained; it was a private affair which lay very near to them, Perkins added. "You see," said Jimmy, "we're all cut up. Poor little devil----" and his voice broke artistically, while Perkins forebore to grin. "Perhaps the case is not so grave as it seems," said the doctor, with professional calm. "I don't see how it could be any worse." Jimmy controlled his emotion with an effort. "If it were just common sickness, but--but he's lost some of his buttons--bughouse, crazy you know,--" his giggle turned into a sob again, and Perkins, bearing up under his trouble, took the thread of the story. "You see, Doctor, we are musicians from Stanford, travelling through here; something has happened to one of our party; I don't know what's the matter: some hallucination." "It struck him first at Santa Barbara," said Mason. "He thought that he was very ill one evening when he was tired; said he was sure he was coming down with appendicitis. We sent for Doctor----" "Brown," filled in Perkins with presence of mind. "A very able man; he stands high in the profession," said the doctor gravely. All three being thus established on a common basis of mendacity, the head liar proceeded: