were standing about. Close to these
was a long line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a great
brewery. A couple of men lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walked
up to them, and asked if they could tell him where he could find any one
connected with the milk company.

"The boss is off for lunch," said one. "I can take an order, if that's
what you want."

Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Before
he had started to question them, a third man, from inside the sheds,
joined the group at the door.

"That cow's dead," he remarked as he came up.

"Is it?" said the one called Bill. Both rose, and went into the shed.
Peter started to go with them.

"You can't come in," said the new-comer.

But Peter passed in, without paying the least attention to him.

"Come back," called the man, following Peter.

Peter turned to him: "You are one of the employees of the National Milk
Company?" he asked.

"Yes," said the man, "and we have orders--"

Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but in
this case he spoke before the man completed his speech. He spoke, too,
with an air of decision and command that quieted the man.

"Go back to your work," he said, "and don't order me round. I know what
I'm about." Then he walked after the other two men as rapidly as the
dimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and then followed.

Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing between
two rows of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass each
other between the rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was a
peculiar smell in the air which Peter did not associate with a cow
stable. It was a kind of vapor which brought some suggestion to his
mind, yet one he could not identify. Presently he came upon the two men.
One had lighted a lantern and was examining a cow that lay on the
ground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested Peter,
although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tail
and two great sores on the flank that lay uppermost.

"That's a bad-looking cow," he said.

"Ain't it?" replied the one with the lantern. "But you can't help their
havin' them, if you feed them on mash."

"Hold your tongue, Bill," said the man who had followed Peter.

"Take some of your own advice," said Peter, turning quickly, and
speaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling was
welling up in Pete