THE PROFESSOR’S QUEST
The good news of the location of Mr. Jackson was so unexpected, that,
for a few moments the little party in Mr. Slade’s office hardly knew
how to take it. Then they all began talking at once, at least the
boys did, until the merchant, with a laugh, remarked that they were
making so much noise that the clerks would think something serious had
happened. This quieted the three chums.
“Well, we’d better get started,” urged Jerry. “Mr. Jackson may get away
from Durham any minute.”
“Oh, I don’t believe he’s as bad as that,” ventured Mr. Slade. “If
he’s there for his health he’ll be likely to remain for some time. I’d
go see him myself, but I dare not leave my business at this critical
juncture.”
“Oh, we’re only too glad to try and get into touch with him for you,”
asserted Bob. “How can we tell him if we meet him? Does Ned know him?”
“No,” answered Mr. Slade’s son. “I never saw him, but dad has his
picture.”
“Then we can take that along, and do a little detective work,”
suggested Jerry. “We’ll inquire for a Mr. Jackson, and if he’s like the
picture he’ll be our man.”
“I’m afraid the photograph wouldn’t be of great help,” said Mr. Slade.
“It was taken a number of years ago, and I fancy Mr. Jackson has
changed much in that time. However, I can describe him to you, and give
you a letter to him, and that may answer. As I said, I ought really to
go myself, but if I left here, my enemies would only make more trouble
for me. Mr. Jackson is the only man who can help me.”
There was more talk, and Mr. Slade gave his son and the latter’s
chums some directions as to how to proceed. He also made out certain
documents, which, if Mr. Jackson would sign, would end the department
store troubles.
“Now to get our auto in shape!” exclaimed Jerry as they prepared to
leave the store. “I hope we can get some speed out of the machine
without too much tinkering.”
“We’ll give it a try-out,” decided Bob. “Take a little run this
afternoon, and see how she works.”
The car the boys now owned was not the one they had had originally. It
was a more powerful machine, though so interested had our friends been
in airship matters of late, that they had not given their auto much use.
That afternoon saw the three chums speeding down a quiet highway that
led out of Cresville. The auto ran well, but they discovered a few
defects and arranged to have them remedied at a garage.
“Then we’ll start for Durham the first thing to-morrow, fellows!” cried
Bob enthusiastically. “Say, it’s fun to be doing something again. It’s
like old times!”
“It sure is,” agreed Jerry. “Can’t you put on a little more speed,
Ned?” For the merchant’s son was at the wheel. “Cut out the muffler,
and use the accelerator pedal more. Make believe we’re after Noddy
Nixon, and that he’s getting away from us. We may need speed if we have
to race after Mr. Jackson.”
They were ascending a hill, and Ned had turned on all the power he
dared use, when, as he swung around a bend, a small man suddenly darted
out right in front of the machine.
“Look out!” yelled Jerry, leaning forward and grasping the lap robe
rail in front of him.
“Jam on the brakes! Toot your horn!” cried Bob.
Ned did not answer. He had instinctively done three things, blown the
horn, jammed on the foot and emergency hand brake, and had turned to
one side. He also gave a loud yell.
But the man who had so suddenly brought about this commotion, paid not
the least attention to the trouble he had caused. With a small net
on the end of a long pole, extended in front of him, he was chasing
a brilliant little red butterfly, which was flitting along, all
unconscious of the danger so close to him.
Suddenly the net went down with a swoop, and the butterfly was out of
sight.
“I got him! I got him! I have the little beauty! One of the rarest
butterflies in this section of the country! It’s worth fifty dollars
if it’s worth a cent! Oh, you little darling, I have you!” And the man
went down on his hands and knees to get the prize from under the net.
“Well, wouldn’t that make you--” began Ned, as he eased up on his foot
pressure, and shut off the power.
What he started to say he never finished, for Jerry cried out:
“If that isn’t Professor Uriah Snodgrass, I’ll drink a pint of
gasolene!”
“Eh? What’s that? Were you calling me?” asked the little man in a mild
voice, looking up sideways from his kneeling position on the ground.
“Who wants Professor Snodgrass?” he inquired, peering through his
spectacles.
Then he caught sight of the boys, who were alighting from the car. Over
his face there came a smile of welcome. He got up, holding in a section
of the net, carefully gathered up in his fingers, the red butterfly.
“Well of all the good luck!” cried the professor. “Here I meet my
friends the motor boys again, when I least expect it. One moment, my
dear boys, until I have put this specimen safely away, and I’ll be with
you. Well, of all the strange and remarkable coincidences! I was just
thinking of you, when I saw this butterfly dart out of the bushes, and
of course, I took after it.”
“And nearly made an end to your collecting fad forever,” said Jerry.
“How’s that?” asked the professor.
“We nearly ran you down,” explained Bob.
“Oh, that? A mere trifle!” said the odd little scientist. “I run
chances like that half a dozen times a day. I would risk almost
anything for such a specimen. And what would I not risk if I could find
the prize I am after?”
“Are you after something new?” asked Bob, as he watched Mr. Snodgrass
carefully put away in the cyanide bottle the red butterfly.
“Yes, something very new,” answered Mr. Snodgrass. “I have been
commissioned by the museum, for which I collect specimens, to get them
a singing fish.”
“A singing fish?” cried Ned, thinking it was a joke.
“A singing fish,” replied the scientist. “That is, it does not exactly
sing, but when taken from the water it makes a peculiar sound. It is
said to be the only fish that does this. But, in addition, it has the
power of flying for short distances out of the water, and it can also
swell itself up to about twice its natural size. So you see it is a
very valuable specimen to get, and very, very rare.”
“But you can’t find it on land,” objected Jerry.
“No, my dear boy,” admitted the professor, as he shook hands with his
friends, “but I expect to shortly make a trip on the ocean. Then I
hope to get my singing fish. I wish you boys were going on some voyage,
and I could go with you.”
“We are going on a trip, but it’s mostly a land trip,” explained Ned.
“We may use the airship, though. It all depends; and if Jerry carries
out his plans, and attaches the hydroplanes, we might make a sea trip,
but that’s all in the air as yet. We’re looking for a certain man.”
“And I’m searching for a rare fish,” went on the scientist. “At odd
times I collect whatever specimens come in my way.”
“What are you doing in this part of the country?” asked Ned. “I thought
you were in Boston.”
“So I am, but I heard of a man out this way who knows the habits of
the singing fish, and I want to get some information from him. So I
came on, and, as the man was not at home I improved my opportunity by
strolling out into the country to see what I could find.
“I have been very fortunate; I find the red butterfly, and I meet my
former friends. Both are most delightful surprises. But, may I ask, who
is the man you are seeking?”
“Mr. Wescott Jackson,” answered Ned, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Wescott Jackson! Not the wealthy promoter?” cried Professor Snodgrass.
“That’s the man,” declared Jerry.
“Well, if that isn’t odd!” exclaimed the scientist. “Why I know him.
In fact, he and I are great friends. He is one of the trustees of
the museum where I am employed, and I once did him a great favor, in
getting him a certain old rare Aztec altar, for he collects antiques.
Yes, I know Mr. Jackson quite well.”
“Then you are the very man for us!” cried Ned in great delight. “Here,
we can’t lose sight of you. Hop into the auto, professor. You help us
locate Mr. Jackson, and we’ll help you get the singing fish! Is that a
bargain?”
Mr. Snodgrass gazed through his spectacles at the boys for a moment.
“It is!” he exclaimed suddenly, as he got up into the auto; and Ned
started off the machine.