VAIN REGRETS
Rushing toward the edge of the cliff, but with due regard for the
danger they knew existed at the abrupt descent, the Motor Boys looked
down the steep side of the place where a construction concern had been
getting out gravel. It was the taking away of this material that had
made a cliff where, previously, there had been but a gradual slope.
Looking down to the bed of Limestone Creek, twenty feet below them, the
boys caught sight of Professor Uriah Snodgrass floundering about in the
water, which was quite deep. The little scientist seemed able to keep
his head above the surface, but that was about all.
“Come on! We’ve got to get down there!” cried Ned.
“Here’s a path,” said Jerry, pointing to one a short distance off to
the side of the spot where Professor Snodgrass had had his abrupt fall.
Slipping, sliding, scrambling, and all but tumbling, the three boys
made their way to the bottom of the cliff and to the edge of the
creek, which really was a small river.
By this time Professor Snodgrass had begun to help himself, having
got back the breath that was knocked from him in his fall, and he was
striking out for shore.
In another instant Jerry had waded in, not stopping to take off any of
his garments, and was pulling the little man to safety.
“Why--bless my soul--why, it’s the Motor Boys!” cried the professor.
“Nobody else!” exclaimed Ned.
“Didn’t you hear us yelling to you to keep away from here?” asked Bob.
“No, Bob, my dear boy, I didn’t hear a thing,” was the answer. “I was
after a very rare specimen of a yellow-winged butterfly. I chased it
to the edge of the cliff and, just as I was reaching out for it, I
noticed, too late, that there was an abrupt descent. I couldn’t help
myself--I went over.”
“Yes, we saw you,” replied Jerry, as he helped the professor to a flat,
raised rock on which he could take a seat. Jerry’s feet were making
queer squidgy sounds caused by the water in his shoes. He was wet to
his arm pits, but the professor had gone in over his head.
“You boys didn’t see anything of that yellow-winged butterfly, did
you?” asked the professor, gazing at the trio through his water-dimmed
spectacles which, fortunately, had not come off. “It had blue spots.”
“No, we didn’t see it,” answered Bob.
“Um! Too bad! I guess it must have gotten away,” said the little
bald-headed man, with a sigh. His hat had come off and was floating
downstream. Ned rescued it with a long stick.
“Better take off some of your things and wring the water out,”
suggested Jerry, as he looked at the little puddle collecting at
the feet of the professor, who sat on the rock. “This is a secluded
place--nobody will see you here. You can strip down to your underwear
and dry your clothes a bit. We can go to my house by a back way and no
one will see us.”
“Oh, do you live around here, Jerry?” asked Professor Snodgrass.
“Why, of course I do--we all live here! This is Cresville!”
“Is this Cresville? Well, I started out for here--I was coming to see
you boys, in fact--but I didn’t know I had reached here. I got off the
train because I saw a very valuable, large red butterfly fluttering
about the station. I caught it, and then I wandered on after that
yellow one. I chased it to the edge of the cliff and----”
“Yes, we saw the rest of what happened,” put in Bob. “But better do as
Jerry says, Professor.”
“I will. Thank you for the suggestion.” The bald-headed little
scientist began taking off his outer garments, and was down to his
underclothing when he suddenly made a jump and cried:
“There it is! I see the yellow butterfly! Lend me a hat, somebody!”
He caught Ned’s from the head of that astonished lad and then,
presenting a most ridiculous sight, Professor Snodgrass raced along the
edge of the stream, following a flitting insect.
“I’ve got it!” he suddenly cried, clapping the hat down over a milkweed
plant, and Ned groaned as he saw the treatment to which his hat was
subjected. “I’ve got it! Jerry, please bring me a specimen box from my
coat. It’s waterproof and won’t be wet inside. Hurry, please!”
There was no resisting the appeal of Uriah Snodgrass, and a little
later, fondly gazing at the butterfly which was now enclosed in a
sealed glass box containing cyanide that had instantly and painlessly
put it to death, the professor walked back to his rock.
Glad, indeed, were the boys that it was a secluded place, for had any
one gazed at the antics of the half-clothed gentleman racing along
after a yellow butterfly, no doubt the police would have been notified
that a lunatic had escaped.
“My, but I’m glad I caught it!” said the professor fervently, as he
pressed the water from his coat and trousers. “It’s worth all the
trouble it caused me. A most valuable specimen!”
“How is it you aren’t at Boxwood Hall?” asked Bob, as the professor’s
garments were hung about on bushes to dry in the hot sun and wind, for
it was decided to let some of the moisture get out before having him
put them on again.
“Oh, I’ve given up the zoölogy chair at Boxwood,” was the answer. And,
in reply to the surprised looks of the boys, the professor went on: “I
did so on the advice of my doctor. He said I was indoors too much. I
must spend all this summer and fall in the open. I am going to travel.
In fact, I have just started. And when I found I had some time on my
hands, I decided to come and see my old pupils. My, but you’ve changed
a lot since I last saw you!” he said, looking at the lads.
“We’ve been to war,” said Jerry.
“Oh, yes, there was a war,” murmured Uriah Snodgrass, as if he could
have forgotten it! As a matter of fact, he had been on the transport on
which Ned, Bob and Jerry returned home. “Well, at any rate, I am away
from Boxwood Hall on a year’s leave of absence,” said the professor.
“And what are you going to do?” Bob wanted to know.
“Travel and collect specimens,” was the answer.
“Why don’t you come with us, as you’ve done before?” burst out Ned.
“We’re going out West to a place called Thunder Mountain, in Montana.
Why not come along, Professor?”
Professor Snodgrass shook his head as he turned over his wet coat so
that the sun and wind might better dry it.
“I’m afraid that’s too far for me,” he said. “The doctor said I must
take it easy.”
“Well, come with us as far as Chicago,” suggested Jerry. “We are going
that far, at least, in a motor car. You’ll get plenty of fresh air that
way.”
“I shall be delighted!” announced Professor Snodgrass. “It will suit me
to perfection. In fact, I was going to ask you boys to let me accompany
you if you contemplated any short trips this summer. But to Thunder
Mountain in Montana--well, that’s a bit too far, I’m afraid.”
“Perhaps you won’t find it so after you get started,” suggested Ned.
“At any rate, we’ll count on you as far as Chicago.”
“Yes, you may do that, thank you,” was the answer.
A little later, when the professor’s clothing was dry enough to allow
him to squeeze himself into it, the party started for Jerry’s house by
a little-frequented path.
The professor was a queer-looking sight, but, then, as he nearly always
was in this condition, caused by crawling and climbing after bugs and
butterflies wherever he saw them, it did not much matter.
Mrs. Hopkins made him welcome, as she always did, and the boys offered
to go to the railroad station to inquire about the professor’s trunk,
which he said he had checked to Cresville.
“Though it might be to any other station that happened to enter his
head,” chuckled Jerry to his chums.
However, they found that for once, at least, Uriah Snodgrass had had
his wits about him, and the trunk was waiting for him. Engaging an
expressman to take it to Jerry’s house, the boys found themselves
without any special plan in view until supper time. Jerry had invited
Ned and Bob to eat supper with him, when they could again meet their
friend, the scientist.
“What say we go out to the place where the farmhouse was on fire?”
suggested Ned, as they walked along. “I’d like to see that old miner
again. We can tell him we’re about ready to go out West ourselves, and
as he said he was going back, we might meet him out in Montana.”
“Yes,” agreed Jerry, “we might. Let’s go.”
They were not far from Ned’s house, and as he owned a small car they
piled into that and were soon approaching the burned house. Carpenters
were at work repairing the damages of the fire, and limping about in
the yard, watching them, was Bill Cromley.
“Hello, boys!” he cordially greeted them as they alighted. “Glad to see
you! Just had some friends of yours here about an hour ago.”
“Friends of ours?” asked Ned, wondering whether Professor Snodgrass had
been out after bugs.
“Yes. In fact, I think they’re here yet. They came to get some potatoes
of my sister. She’s having one of the men dig them. Yes, there they
are! They came in an auto, same as you did.”
Bill Cromley pointed down a lane that bordered a potato field in which
a man was digging. Standing near the fence, alongside of which a car
was drawn up, were two lads. At the sight of them the Motor Boys
uttered exclamations of surprise, and Jerry said:
“They aren’t friends of ours!”
“Noddy Nixon and Jack Pender--I should say not!” cried Bob.
“Did they tell you they were, Mr. Cromley?” asked Ned.
“Well, I don’t know as they exactly said they were _friends_ of
yours,” admitted the old miner slowly. “They said they knew you.”
“Oh, that’s different!” remarked Jerry. “Yes, we know them, but we
don’t----”
“Cut it out, Jerry, they’re coming up this way,” said Bob in a low
voice, as he saw Noddy and Jack getting into the car with a sack of
potatoes. “We don’t want another row here.”
“No, that’s right,” added Ned.
“All right, I won’t so much as look at them,” promised the tall lad.
Having purchased the vegetables they had come after, Noddy and Jack
drove on out of the lane. As they passed the place where the Motor
Boys stood with Bill Cromley, the bully and his crony cast suspicious
glances at Jerry and his chums and Noddy said something in a low voice
to Jack.
On their parts, the Motor Boys spoke not a word, but, as Ned remarked
later, “we looked plenty at them!”
Mr. Cromley seemed to sense that there was a strained feeling between
the parties of lads, and he said nothing to bring on hostilities.
“So they aren’t friends of yours, eh?” questioned the old miner when
Jack and Noddy were speeding off down the road after a backward look at
the three chums.
“I should say not!” declared Jerry. “Anything but that!” and his face
showed his disgust.
“Hum! I’m sorry,” went on Mr. Cromley.
“We aren’t!” laughed Jerry. “We don’t enjoy knowing such contemptible
characters.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry for what I told them. Are you certain they aren’t
to be relied upon?”
“They most certainly aren’t!” burst out Ned. “What would you think of a
fellow who, while in the army, would shoot himself, inflicting a minor
wound, so he wouldn’t have to fight but could go to the hospital?”
“I’d think he was a--dirty skunk!” burst out the miner. “Did that Noddy
Nixon do that?”
“He sure did! And Jack Pender is as bad,” declared Bob.
“Um! Um! I certainly have made a mess of it!” exclaimed the miner, with
a worried air. “I certainly have!”
“What did you do?” asked Jerry in curiosity.
“Why, those fellows came here this morning. They talked pretty slick,
said they knew you and all that. Heard I knew something about gold
mining. They heard, somewhere, about the treasure chest of Blue Rock,
which isn’t surprising, as I’ve told the story often enough down in
the village store. Well, to sum it all up, Noddy Nixon offered me a
good sum if I’d pilot him and his chum out West to the place where the
stage coach went over the cliff down into the canyon.”
“Did you accept his offer?” asked Jerry quietly.
“In a sense I did, yes. I’m thinking of going back out West, anyhow,
and I thought this a good chance to make some money. But if I had known
what sort of fellows those two are----”
“Did you tell them all the particulars?” asked Bob.
“Yes, I think I did--about everything! Like an old fool I blurted out
all I knew--how the horses ran away, how they went over the cliff, and
how it looked like the end of everything.”
“But did you tell them where Blue Rock is--where the accident
happened?” asked Jerry eagerly.
“I reckon I did. That Noddy Nixon is a slick one. He kept on asking me
questions--worming things out of me. And I told them all! Even about
the exact spot where the treasure chest fell. My! My! But I wish I
hadn’t! I certainly wish I hadn’t!” groaned the old miner.