DISAPPOINTMENT
The boat was made fast and the boys climbed out on the dock, the throng
of sight-seers making way for them. Professor Snodgrass, the well-known
scientist, was holding aloft his net, containing the flopping fish.
Andy Rush, not satisfied with the view he had had of the professor’s
prize, crowded forward to get a closer look. And then something
happened.
Whether Andy’s head collided with the net, knocking it from the hand
of the professor, or whether the latter had an insecure grip on the
handle, or whether the fish itself caused the accident, probably will
never be known. At any rate, the net slipped, turned over, and, a
moment later the fish was flopping about on the dock, doing its best to
get back into the water.
“There it goes!”
“Stop it!”
“Grab it, somebody!”
“Fall on it!”
“Get a hook and line!”
These were the cries from the crowd of men and boys on the dock. As
for Andy, he stood rubbing his head where it had come in contact with
the iron ring of the net. The professor at first looked dazed, then
alarmed, and then anxious. He gazed at his empty net, and next at the
flopping fish, which he had called a calico bass. It seemed to be
something between a sunfish and a perch.
“Don’t let that fish get away!” he cried, finding his voice at length.
“It’s worth a lot of money to me! Don’t let it get away.”
Some of the crowd were laughing, and others took the words of the
little scientist earnestly. Among them were the three motor boys, who
well knew the value their friend attached to his living specimens.
“I’ll get it!” cried Jerry, toward whom the fish was flopping its way.
“No, I can nab it!” exclaimed Ned.
“Let me try for it!” suggested stout Bob.
It was like several out-field ball players each trying to catch a high
fly.
Andy Rush, realizing that it was probably as much his fault as anyone’s
that the fish had gotten out of the net, also made a dash forward.
“I’ll get it! I knocked it out! I’ll grab it! Put your foot on it! Rub
your hands in sand and then it won’t slip out! Hit it with a club!
Grab it! I’ll get it!” spluttered Andy.
“No! No! Don’t hurt it! Don’t hit it, or kill it! If you use violent
measures the fish will be spoiled as a specimen!” cried Professor
Snodgrass. “I had rather let it get in the water, and net it again,
than to harm it.” He danced about excitedly.
But no one seemed to pay any attention to him. Nor did the little
scientist notice our three friends. His attention was all on the
escaping specimen.
“I have it!” cried Andy, suddenly throwing himself forward, full length
on the dock. The fish was just ahead of him, and it seemed that the
small chap must capture it.
But Andy had given himself too much impetus. He threw himself not only
down on the dock, but over the edge of the stringpiece as well, and, an
instant later, clothes and all, he disappeared beneath the surface of
the river. The fish, too, had vanished.
Then, if possible, the excitement increased, only Andy was not present
to add his shouts to the din. He was under water and could not yell.
“Man overboard!”
“Throw him a line!”
“Get your boat ready, fellows!”
Thus cried those in the crowd as they peered anxiously over the edge of
the dock.
But there was really little danger. Andy was a good swimmer, the water
near the dock, while rather deep, had no current, and the boy had on
light summer clothes. In a moment he rose, gasping, to the surface.
“Let me take your net, Professor!” exclaimed Jerry to the little
scientist.
It is doubtful if Professor Snodgrass really realized who Jerry was,
well enough as he knew the lad and his chums. But the scientist’s mind
was on the fish.
“There he is!” cried someone.
“Who, my specimen?” asked Mr. Snodgrass, eagerly.
“No, Andy Rush!” was the answer, and indeed it was the small chap who
had bobbed into view.
“Here you go, Andy!” cried Jerry, extending the net handle. “Grab hold
of this my boy!”
Andy, with a shake of his head, cleared his eyes of water, and reached
out one hand for the pole.
“Use your other paw!” cried Jerry. “I’ll haul you out then.”
“Can’t--can’t use my--my other--hand!” panted Andy.
“What’s the matter--is it hurt?” Jerry wanted to know.
“Hurt? No, but I’ve got the professor’s fish in it!” was the answer.
“Ha! My fish! Good boy!” cried Professor Snodgrass. “Hold on to it, and
you shall be rewarded.”
“All--right!” gurgled Andy, for just then some water splashed in his
mouth.
The swimming lad held up one hand, to show, tightly clasped in the
fingers, the fish. Then, with the other hand, or “paw,” as Jerry had
called it, Andy grasped the pole of the net. He was pulled up far
enough so that he could hand the fish to the scientist.
“That’s the boy!” cried the professor, as he opened a box, into which
Andy dropped the wiggling creature. Then the lid was slammed down.
“Now I have you, my little beauty!” the professor exclaimed, dancing
about in boyish delight.
Andy, with both hands free, now secured a good grip on the pole, and
Jerry soon hauled him, dripping wet, to the dock. The excitement calmed
down, and, for the first time, Professor Snodgrass seemed to note the
presence of our three friends.
A word at this moment about the professor. Readers of the previous
books of this series know him well. Dr. Snodgrass was a learned
scientist, belonging to several prominent societies. His chief business
in life was the collecting of rare specimens of animal life, from
snakes to snails and from monkeys to lizards. He was connected with
a large Boston museum, and his activities were directed to securing
specimens for it. He traveled all over, going here, there, everywhere
in search of queer specimens, of which he either heard, or which his
studies convinced him lived in certain localities.
Professor Snodgrass had made the acquaintance of the boys some years
before, and had gone with them on many of their expeditions, to
collect rare bugs or animals. That was all he did. He took little
or no interest in the object of the expedition, as far as the boys
were concerned. All he cared about was his specimens. It might be a
blue-nosed monkey, a triple-toed frog or some such queer thing that he
sought, but, whatever it was, the professor usually got it, sometimes
most unexpectedly.
“Well, is it all over?” asked Ned, as he watched Andy take off his
coat, and wring some of the water out of it. “Have you got your
specimen safe, Professor?”
“Yes, indeed, thanks to this brave young man. I must reward him, as I
promised.”
“Oh, that’s all right!” exclaimed Andy. “It was my fault, I guess, that
the fish got away. And I didn’t mind the bath. It’s a hot day.”
“Oh! Why, bless my soul! It’s Andy Rush!” cried Professor Snodgrass,
seeming to recognize Andy for the first time. The little chap had
often gone with the boys and the scientist on trips.
“Yes, I’m Andy,” admitted the owner of that name.
“And here’s Jerry, Ned and Bob,” proceeded the scientist. “Why, bless
my soul! I quite forgot all about you. I was so interested in getting
that fish. I must see if it is safe,” and he looked in a box he carried
slung over his shoulder by a strap--a box half-filled with grass.
“Yes, he’s there all right,” the scientist announced with glee. “Now I
must painlessly put it out of misery, and see to its preservation.”
“How did you get here, and where did you come from?” asked Jerry,
as soon as most of the crowd dispersed, seeing no more chance for
excitement.
“Why, I am on one of my usual collecting trips,” replied the professor.
“So far I have not been successful, and, as I found myself in the
vicinity of Cresville I thought I would stop off and see you.”
“Glad you did,” interjected Ned, for the scientist was always welcome.
“I stopped up at your house, Jerry, as is my custom,” the little
bald-headed professor went on, “and your mother made me very welcome.
She said you boys had gone off in your motor boat, but would soon be
back--especially as it was near dinner time,” and the professor looked
at Bob, but he did not smile.
“Um!” mumbled the stout lad.
“So, knowing you would land at this dock, I came down here,” went
on Mr. Snodgrass. “While waiting, it occurred to me that I might
profitably occupy my time by using a net, to see if I could get any
rare fish specimens.
“I was fortunate enough to secure a beautiful calico bass,” the
scientist went on. “That is a fish something like a perch, but
partaking also of the nature of a sunfish. I got one in my net, in
spite of the distractions of the crowd that gathered to watch me,
and--well, I guess you know the rest,” he finished with a smile. “I
thought surely my fine specimen was gone, but I have you safe, my
beauty!” he exclaimed, again looking in the box.
“And,” resumed the professor, “now that everything is all right, I will
go back to your house, Jerry, and make some notes concerning my latest
success.”
“Was that what you started out after--a calico bass!” asked Ned.
“No, my dear boy, that is only a side issue, as you boys would say,”
was the answer. “What I am really after is a two-tailed lizard. I am
not certain that such a creature exists, but, from having examined many
specimens of lizards, and finding some with rudimentary evidences of
once having possessed two tails, I am convinced that such creatures
once did exist.
“I made a statement to that effect before one of the learned societies
to which I belong, but my statement was questioned by a rival,
Professor Battin. He laughed at the idea of a two-tailed lizard. I said
I would prove to him that such a creature existed, and I am going to do
it!
“I at once set out from Boston, and, knowing that you boys always go
off on summer trips, I came to you. May I accompany you on your travels
this time? I am sure I shall find the two-tailed lizard somewhere, and
I always have good luck when I go with you boys. May I accompany you on
this occasion?”
“Of course, Professor,” said Jerry, heartily. “But we have made no
plans as yet.”
“Is that so? You surprise me!” the professor exclaimed. “Usually, at
this time, you are ready to go away.”
Jerry’s two chums looked at him, as though he might explain.
“The truth of the matter is,” began the tall lad, “there is a little
trouble afoot. If we can settle that, one way or the other, we may go
on a trip. And perhaps you can help us!” he exclaimed, as he went back
to the boat, bringing up the lump of yellow clay. “I’d like to know,
Professor Snodgrass,” said Jerry, earnestly, “whether or not that clay
is good for anything; and if so, for what?”
Professor Snodgrass looked at it, smelled of it, touched a bit to his
tongue, and remarked:
“Well, Jerry, I shall have to analyze it to tell what it is good for;
if anything.”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t expect an answer off-hand,” said the tall youth.
Then he asked Mr. Snodgrass about his activities since their last
meeting, and, thus talking, the boys followed the little scientist to
Jerry’s home. Andy went on to his own house to don dry garments.
“A two-tailed lizard!” grunted Bob to Ned, as they walked in the rear.
“That’s about the craziest stunt yet!”
“Oh, well, you know what the professor is,” said Ned, tolerantly.
For nearly a week, while he remained the guest of Mrs. Hopkins,
Professor Snodgrass tested and analyzed the yellow clay. Then, one
afternoon, coming out of the room he had fitted up as a laboratory,
his hands and face covered with the yellow mud, Professor Snodgrass
remarked:
“Well, Jerry, I’ve finished!”
“You mean you have analyzed the clay?” asked the youth, excitedly.
“Yes. I have given it the last test, as far as I am able.”
“And what do you find?”
“Is it valuable?” demanded Ned, who, with Bob, was at his chum’s home.
“Does it contain gold or diamonds?” Bob wanted to know, eagerly.
“Neither one,” and the professor smiled.
“Perhaps it is the sort of clay that contains aluminum,” suggested
Jerry, a bit apprehensive at the look on the face of the professor.
“No, Jerry, nor aluminum either.”
“Is it good for anything?” asked the tall lad, desperately.
“Well, Jerry, as nearly as I can tell, and I have subjected it to
numberless tests, that yellow clay would make excellent material for
filling in waste land, but that’s all,” was the disappointing answer of
the scientist.
“Then it isn’t any good?” faltered Jerry.
“Not the least in the world, my dear boy,” was the final report. “I am
sorry, but it seems to me to be absolutely valueless!”