"Whew!" observed Professor Lesard, "that must be her assistant,
Professor Dorothy Van Twiller! She's the prettiest blue-stocking in
town."
With this curious remark my confrère followed me into my room and
wrote down the list of articles I dictated to him. The list included a
complete camping equipment for myself and three other men.
"Am I one of those other men?" inquired Lesard, with an unhappy smile.
Before I could reply my door was shoved open and a figure appeared at
the threshold, cap in hand.
"What do you want?" I asked, sternly; but my heart was beating high
with triumph.
The figure shuffled; then came a subdued voice:
"Mister, I guess I'll go back to the Graham Glacier along with you.
I'm Billy Spike, an' it kinder scares me to go back to them Hudson
Mountains, but somehow, mister, when you choked me and kinder walked
me off on my ear, why, mister, I kinder took to you like."
There was absolute silence for a minute; then he said:
"So if you go, I guess I'll go, too, mister."
"For a thousand dollars?"
"Fur nawthin'," he muttered--"or what you like."
"All right, Billy," I said, briskly; "just look over those rifles and
ammunition and see that everything's sound."
He slowly lifted his tough young face and gave me a doglike glance.
They were hard eyes, but there was gratitude in them.
"You'll get your throat slit," whispered Lesard.
"Not while Billy's with me," I replied, cheerfully.
Late that night, as I was preparing for pleasant dreams, a knock came
on my door and a telegraph-messenger handed me a note, which I read,
shivering in my bare feet, although the thermometer marked eighty
Fahrenheit:
"You will immediately leave for the Hudson Mountains via
Wellman Bay, Labrador, there to await further instructions.
Equipment for yourself and one assistant will include
following articles" [here began a list of camping utensils,
scientific paraphernalia, and provisions]. "The steamer
_Penguin_ sails at five o'clock to-morrow morning. Kindly find
yourself on board at that hour. Any excuse for not complying
with these orders will be accepted as your resignation.
"SUSAN SMAWL,
"President Bronx Zoological Society."
"Lesard!" I shouted, trembling with fury.
He appeared at his door, chastely draped in pajamas; and he read the
insolent letter with terrified alacrity.
"What are you going to do--resign?" he asked, much frightened.
"Do!" I snarled, grinding my teeth; "I'm going--that's what I'm going
to do!"
"But--but you can't get ready and catch that steamer, too," he
stammered.
He did not know me.