"It might just be," Ali said. "Do you remember how the settlers on
Camblyne brought their Terran cattle through the first year? They fed
them salt mixed with fansel grass. The result was that the herds didn't
take the fansel grass fever when they turned them out to pasture in the
dry season. All right, maybe we had our 'salt' in that drink. The
fansel-salt makes the cattle filthy sick when it's forced down their
throats, but after they recover they're immune to the fever. And nobody
on Camblyne buys unsalted cattle now."
"It sounds logical," admitted Rip. "But how are we going to prove it?"
Ali's face was black once more. "Probably by elimination," he said
morosely. "If we keep our feet and all the rest go down--that's our
proof."
"But we ought to be able to do something--" protested Shannon.
"Just how?" Ali's slender brows arched. "Do you have a gallon of that
Salariki brew on board you can serve out? We don't know what was in it.
Nor are we sure that this whole idea has any value."
All of them had had first aid and basic preventive medicine as part of
their training, but the more advanced laboratory experimentation was
beyond their knowledge and skill.
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