A PUZZLED PROFESSOR
For a moment there was comparative silence in the big barrack building. It lasted while the little man was crossing the room and hurrying toward the big snake where it could be discerned under a line of bunks. The words uttered by the owner of the serpent were heard by the three chums, as well as by every one else in the building.
And then, as the small man continued on his way, and finally launched himself at the snake with outstretched hands and arms, some one uttered a warning yell.
“Look out!” came the cry. “It’s only his bluff! He’s trying to escape. Catch the spy!”
“That’s right!” shouted several, who seemed to agree with what had been said.
But if the little man—the “spy” as he had been called—had it in mind to escape, he was taking a queer way to go about it. For even as a rush toward him on the part of those from whose midst he had escaped began, the little man arose and 19 held clasped in his arms the snake—or as much of it as he could raise from the ground. On his face was a look of anxiety relieved, and he fairly beamed on those who confronted him. His former, and would-be, captors had again come to a halt. Almost any ordinary body of men and boys would have done the same under like circumstances, for there is an inherent fear of snakes in almost every one.
“Get him! Don’t let the spy escape!” came the cry.
“Yes! Let’s see you get him—with that snake for a protector,” murmured one.
“I don’t mind getting shot at by a German,” said a voice, “but I’ll be jiggered if I want to be bitten by a snake.”
“Shoot the snake!” came the cry.
“No, please don’t, I beg of you!” pleaded the little man in a mild voice that, somehow, carried to the far end of the room. “Please don’t shoot the most valuable snake I ever owned. Really she is quite harmless; aren’t you, Ticula?” and he looked up at the swaying head of the snake that was weaving above him, as though to ask the serpent to speak.
“Ticula!” burst out Ned. “Is that her name, Professor Snodgrass?”
The little man started, and peered through his glasses in the direction of the voice. 20
“Ha! It seems there is some one here who knows me,” he said. “I cannot see him, but I seem to recognize the voice.”
“I should think you would,” chuckled Ned. “We’ve traveled with you often enough, Professor. But this is a new one—a pet snake as long as a lasso.”
“And named Ticula!” added Jerry, with a laugh.
“Oh, that is only a name I made up for her out of her own proper, Latin one,” explained the professor. “Her real name is Python Reticulatus; but I call her Ticula for short. And, unless I am greatly mistaken, it was Jerry Hopkins who spoke to me that time. Am I right?” and he peered about rather uncertainly, for the corner where the three chums were standing was in deep shadow.
“You are right, Professor,” said Jerry. “And we are as much surprised to see you here as to ‘meet up’ with your snake, as the folks in the South say. What brought you here?”
Before Professor Snodgrass could answer—and it has been, perhaps, guessed before this that he was the “spy” referred to—a sudden movement on the part of the snake made it necessary for him to devote some attention to his “pet” as he called her.
Ticula seemed uneasy at being stared at by so many eyes, and she began to writhe and twist as 21 though anxious to escape. There was a sudden scramble on the part of the soldiers and officers in the barrack building, but the three chums, having faith in their old friend, the little scientist, did not retreat.
“There now, Ticula,” murmured Professor Snodgrass, in what he doubtless meant to be soothing terms, “no one shall harm you. You’re excited on account of getting out of your box, I suppose. But I’ll soon have you back there.”
He reached up, and began to stroke the snake back of the weaving head, and gradually the forked tongue, that had been playing in and out with the quickness of lightning, was quieted. Ticula seemed to regain her composure. She settled down, wrapping a fold or two about the little man, who did not seem at all alarmed at the movements of the snake, though one officer murmured:
“Great Scott! he’s taking an awful chance. That’s a constrictor, and it can crush an ox!”
But Professor Snodgrass gazed mildly through his glasses at those surrounding him and inquired:
“Are you all three there—Ned, Bob and Jerry?”
“All present and accounted for, Professor,” answered Jerry, with a laugh. “And now that Ticula seems quiet, perhaps you’ll explain what it all means.”
“Yes, I think an explanation is very much in 22 order,” said the colonel, who had urged some of his men to shoot the snake.
“First let me get my pet back in her sleeping box,” said the little scientist. “She will be quieter then. If one of you gentlemen will have the kindness to bring me the box you took away from me, I’ll put Ticula to sleep.”
“Bring in the box,” commanded a lieutenant. “We caught this man, Sir,” said the lieutenant, addressing the colonel, “hanging around the officers’ mess hall with a box. We thought it contained an infernal machine, and that he might be a German spy. We brought him here to talk to him, and then we discovered the snake crawling around. The box is outside.”
“Have it examined and brought in,” said the colonel. “It is just possible,” he added with a smile, “that the prisoner is what he claims to be—a naturalist. Is there any one here who knows him?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” answered Ned, Bob and Jerry in a chorus.
“Come forward and explain,” ordered the colonel.
The three chums advanced and saluted. Professor Snodgrass seemed to be having a little trouble quieting the snake, which had again raised her head and was hissing at the crowd in front of her. Some explanations were necessary, it would 23 seem, and Ned, Bob and Jerry seemed the best qualified to offer them.
“We know Professor Snodgrass very well, Sir,” said Jerry. “He has often traveled with us, and we have helped him in his collection work. He is connected with some of the largest museums, and goes about getting rare specimens for them. He is no more a German spy than we are.”
“Glad to know it,” commented the colonel. “Do you know anything about this mysterious box he had?”
“No; but it is probably what he says it is—a cage for this snake, Sir,” explained Jerry. “He has any number of specimen boxes and cages when he travels.”
By this time some of the men had brought in the box in question. It was painted green, and was about three feet long—in itself rather a good load for one man to carry, not so much on account of its weight as because of its shape, but with the big snake inside, one man could not have lifted it.
“That’s a snake box,” said Jerry, after he had examined it, “but it is a new one—I never saw it before.”
“No, I had it made especially for Ticula,” explained the professor, who had again succeeded in quieting the serpent. “Now, my little pet,” he went on, “I’ll put you to bed.”
The box was brought forward and set down on 24 the floor in front of the professor. The man who brought it dropped it quickly and made a hasty retreat at the nearer sight of the reptile.
Then the scientist gently lowered the serpent’s head toward the box, which was lined with cloth. The snake seemed to recognize her quarters, for, without hesitation, she coiled herself down in the case, the perforated lid of which was then closed.
“There, now she is all right,” said the professor. “I shall not let her loose again until to-morrow, and then––”
“What?” yelled a lieutenant. “Are you going to turn her loose around here again?”
“Why not?” asked the professor. “The observations I hoped to make to-day as to her feeding habits in the open have been spoiled because you arrested me as a spy. I could not conclude my experiments, and I must continue them to-morrow. But do not be alarmed. Ticula, though rather large, is perfectly harmless to man. Indeed, she has not yet gotten her full growth. She is only fifteen feet long, and her kind often grows to twenty-six feet and weighs nearly two hundred pounds. Ticula is a mere baby.”
“Some baby!” murmured a voice, and even the colonel laughed.
“And now I suppose I am at liberty to go with my property?” asked the professor, looking around inquiringly. 25
“Well, since it seems that you are not a German spy, I fail to see that we have any reason for holding you,” returned the commandant. “As for the snake, I think the men—and I may say myself—would feel obliged if you did not turn it loose again.”
“Well, I suppose I can select some other place for my experiments,” murmured the professor, in rather disappointed tones. “But this spot was ideal. There are so many rats and mice about a camp of this sort that a snake or two would be very beneficial.”
“I have no doubt,” said the colonel dryly. “And yet, somehow, I think I prefer the rodents. But I should be glad to have you explain further just what your experiments are in reference to your reptile. I am interested. I shall be pleased to have you lunch with me,” he went on, for, now that he had a chance to observe, he saw that Professor Snodgrass was a cultured gentleman, as well as, he presumed, a devoted scientist. The colonel was something of a student himself.
“I should like to lunch with you,” said the professor, “but my three friends—Ned, Bob and Jerry—are here and––”
“We’ll see you later,” whispered Jerry. “We’re enlisted men and can’t mess in the officers’ quarters. You must dine with the colonel and we’ll see you later.” 26
“All right,” assented the professor, and accepted the colonel’s invitation. “Help me carry Ticula out to my auto and I’ll see you after dinner,” he went on to the boys.
“Have you an auto here?” asked Bob.
“Yes. I left it just beyond the confines of the camp. I have an old friend of yours with me, too,” he went on. “He helped me carry my snake here.”
“An old friend?” murmured Bob.
“Yes, Pete Bumps who used to be your father’s hired man. I’ve engaged him as a helper since you boys joined the army. He runs my auto for me and helps me catch specimens. He isn’t afraid of snakes.”
And old Pete Bumps it was who greeted Ned, Bob and Jerry as they accompanied the professor to his car.
Pete had left the Baker service some time ago, and had secured a place as janitor of a college in which the professor taught, he briefly explained to the boys. There the professor had engaged him just prior to starting out on his present expedition.
“Come on. We’ve got to hurry back to mess,” said Jerry to his chums. “But we want to have a talk with you, Professor, after you finish dining with the colonel. We want to hear what you are doing here again. I should think once being taken 27 for a German spy was enough,” and he laughed at the recollection of a former occasion, when the professor, coming to visit his friends at Camp Dixton, had been halted on his way through the lines after some insects.
“I never thought of that,” admitted the scientist. “I certainly remember coming down here in the spring, but I forgot about the spy business.”
This was not surprising, since the professor seldom remembered for very long anything not directly connected with his favorite study.
And so, with the snake in the box safely confined to the care of Pete Bumps in the automobile, Professor Snodgrass went back to dine with the colonel, while the three chums hastened to their delayed mess.
“You never know when he is going to turn up,” remarked Ned.
“That’s right,” agreed Jerry. “I wonder what he’s after now?”
They did not have long to wait before learning. Soon after mess they saw the professor coming down their company street and, as they had a brief respite from drills on account of the strenuous work of the morning, the boys took him to a quiet spot and began to ask him questions.
“But first of all, tell us if there is anything the matter?” begged Jerry. “You look worried. Are you?” 28
“Yes,” admitted the little scientist, “I don’t mind admitting that I am worried—and puzzled, too.”
“What about?” asked Bob. “Ticula hasn’t got loose, has she?”
“No, I went over to see, after dining with your colonel, whom I found to be a most delightful man, though his ignorance of reptiles and insects is painful. But, as I say, I assured myself of the safety of Ticula. Pete has her in the auto.”
“Then what’s worrying you?” demanded Ned.
“Well, I have a problem to solve and I don’t know how to do it,” was the answer.
“Has it anything to do with the war?” Jerry queried.
“Yes, it has,” was the unexpected answer. “And now that you boys are in the army and expect to go across to France soon, perhaps you can help me. I’ll tell you the puzzle I am trying to solve.”