NEWS OF NODDY
For several seconds no one spoke. The boys stood staring at one another
and the agent started to go away, evidently believing he had done his
part.
“Can you give us any particulars?” asked Jerry at last. “Where is the
boat? Perhaps we can have it fixed.”
“It’s at Longwood, about ten miles from here,” the agent replied, “but
there’s no trains to-night. Yo’-uns will have to wait until mornin’.”
“I’ll never sleep a wink,” declared Ned. “Think of the _Dartaway_ being
smashed!” And he gave something like a groan.
“If she is smashed the railroad company will have to pay heavy
damages,” declared Jerry. “They’ve spoiled our whole vacation trip!
Can’t you give us any particulars?” he went on, turning to the agent.
“Maybe we could hire a carriage and drive to Longwood. We’ve got to
find out something about our boat.”
“Yes, I guess yo’ could drive there,” the agent replied. “But I
wouldn’t advise yo’ to, after dark. The roads are bad and dangerous.
Why can’t yo’ wait until mornin’?”
“We’re too anxious,” declared Bob.
“Can’t we telegraph?” inquired Ned.
“The telegraph office is closed after supper,” announced the agent,
and, with their last hope gone, of getting any particulars that night,
the boys turned away. They went back to the hotel.
“We’ll tell the professor,” said Bob. “Maybe he can help us out.”
When the scientist was made acquainted with the news he was much
surprised.
“That spoils my plan of catching the prize butterfly,” he remarked.
“I’ve got to make other arrangements.”
“Did you ever have anything lost by a railroad?” asked Jerry.
“Once.”
“Was it smashed?”
“Partly.”
“What did you do to find it and get it back?”
“Oh, the railroad company was glad enough to assist me,” answered the
scientist.
“How?” inquired Jerry, and the boys looked interested.
“Why I once shipped a case of very valuable white rats,” Mr. Snodgrass
went on. “It was in a wreck, or something, and the railroad lost track
of the case; I couldn’t get trace of it. But in a little while I
received urgent letters calling on me to take my white rats away. It
seems the case had been side tracked after the accident and sent to
a lonely station where the agent was a woman. The rats got loose and
frightened her almost to death. She wired to headquarters threatening
to resign unless the rats were taken away. In that way the claim agent
heard--”
But what the professor was going to say he never finished, for, at that
moment some kind of a bug came flying into the room through the opened
window, and the scientist was after it at once. With his long-handled
net in his hand he pursued the insect about the room.
“Now I have it!” Mr. Snodgrass cried as the bug alighted on the upper
part of the door. He was bringing his upraised net down to catch it
when the portal opened and a colored man entered, bearing a pitcher of
ice water. His head came just in the right place and an instant later
the professor had brought his net down on the woolly pate of the negro.
The startled colored man dropped the pitcher of water, which splashed
all over himself and the professor, and then the darky let out a yell.
“I’m cotched! He’s got me in de net! I’m a gone coon! Leggo! I ain’t
done nuffin! It were Sam Johnson as done it! Please, good Mr. Man let
me go!”
He struggled to get the net off his head, and the professor
endeavored to assist him, but their efforts only seemed to make the
mosquito-fabric cling the tighter, until the yells of the colored man
brought several guests out into the corridor on the run, thinking the
hotel might be afire.
“Help ’em, Ned!” called Jerry, who was laughing so he could not go to
the aid of the two.
“Help ’em yourself,” responded Ned, almost doubled up with mirth at the
sight of the struggling figures.
At length the two managed to extricate themselves, and the professor,
taking his net from the colored man’s head, carefully examined it for
possible rents.
“Did I hurt you?” asked the scientist.
“No, I cain’t ’zactly say as how ’yo hurted me,” the colored man
replied with a grin, “but yo’ done mos’ scaired me t’ def!”
“I’m very sorry,” went on Mr. Snodgrass. “I was after a bug!”
“I thought yo’ were after me!” and the bearer of the ice water gazed at
the broken pitcher.
“Well, here’s something to buy salve for your head,” and the professor
gave the man a half dollar.
“Landy! Fo’ bits!” exclaimed the delighted negro.
None of the boys slept well that night, on account of thinking about
their boat. All hoped against hope that it might not be so badly
damaged but what it could be repaired.
They paid an early visit to the railroad office, the professor going
with them. Mr. Snodgrass, in spite of his scientific training, knew
how to talk business, and he soon had the agent wiring for particulars
concerning the motor boat.
“Tell ’em to send it here, no matter how badly it’s smashed,” put in
Jerry.
“Yes, we want our boat,” added Bob.
“In a hurry,” was Ned’s contribution to the general orders.
“My, but yo’ folks from the North are in a powerful rush,” observed the
agent with a smile. “We-uns down here take life easier. I’ll do my best
for yo’. The night man left word that yo’ uns was frettin’ an’ stewin’
about yo’ boat. Yo’ uns is jest like another feller from the North.
He was here a while ago, an’ he were raisin’ Hail Columbia ’cause the
train was behind time. Said he were goin’ to his cocoanut plantation
near Lake Okeechobee an’ wanted to git there in a hurry.”
“Cocoanut plantation?” asked Jerry, a sudden idea coming into his brain.
“Yep; that’s what he said. Looked rather young to be ownin’ a
plantation. He was about the age of yo’ lads. Seemed to think a good
deal of himself, an’ give a powerful lot of orders.”
“What was his name?” asked Ned eagerly.
“Let’s see, now. It was a curious sort of name. Shaky--no, it wasn’t
Shaky--Sleepy--no, that ain’t it either--Noddy--that’s what it was.
Noddy Nixon!”
“Noddy Nixon down here!” cried Jerry. “How long ago?”
“He was at this station a week ago to-day,” replied the agent. “Had to
stay over one night because he missed a train, and he tried to make out
it was my fault.”
“Just like Noddy,” murmured Ned. “So he’s down here? Maybe we’ll meet
him.”
“Hope not,” remarked Jerry.
“Hark!” exclaimed the agent, as he listened to the clicking of the
telegraph instrument. “There’s a message from Longwood. It’s about you’
boat.”