CHAPTER XIII.
THE LEADEN TUBE.
The following day, while they were experimenting and practicing with the radio telephone, the boys received word that the man in the hospital was conscious and wished to see them, if possible.
"Perhaps now we shall get some explanation of that queer tubeful of sand," said Jack, as he hung up the telephone receiver, having informed the physician that they would be at the hospital shortly.
"It's certainly a queer sort of thing for a man to carry about—a glass vial full of black grit so carefully protected, unless he is crazy or something," commented Tom.
"I think that there is some explanation back of all this," said Jack, "and for my part the sooner we get to the hospital, the better I shall be pleased. The man told the doctor he was a miner and his name is Zeb Cummings. Perhaps that sand is gold-bearing or something like that."
"That might be the case," agreed Tom.
The boys decided to take out the electric car. It was in perfect running order and the indicator showed that there was plenty of electricity in storage for the start. They told Mr. Chadwick where they were going and then rolled out of the High Towers gates onto the broad, smooth road bordered with pleasant green elms.
They bowled along smoothly and silently with the car working as perfectly as delicate clockwork. They had gone about a mile from the house and were on a steep grade which the car took as easily as if it had been going down hill, when their attention was attracted by a sudden shout from the vicinity.
Jack brought the car to a halt. The voice came again.
"Hi! Help me! Ouch! Help!"
"What in the world is the matter now?" wondered Tom.
"Somebody in trouble in that field yonder. We'd better get out and see what's up," proposed Jack.
The shouts seemed to issue from beyond a high bank at one side of the road. On its summit was a hedge which prevented the boys seeing what was going on in the field that lay beyond.
As they got out of the car, however, Jack spied a bicycle at one side of the road. A satchel that he remembered very well was slung from its frame.
"It's the professor in trouble again!" declared Jack.
"I do believe you are right," replied Tom as they scrambled up the bank. "That's sure enough his wheel."
They found a gate in the hedge and on the other side an odd sight met their eyes. Kneeling on the ground was the professor. His right arm was thrust almost up to the shoulder into a hole in the ground. He was shouting lustily for help and appeared to be imprisoned in his queer posture.
"Some animal has got hold of his hand," cried Jack. "Come on, Tom."
"Oh, boys, thank goodness you've come," gasped the scientist.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jack.
"I can't get my arm out of this hole," declared the professor.
"How did you get it in?" asked Tom.
"A fine specimen that I dropped accidentally rolled into it," was the reply. "I reached in to get it and now I can't get my hand out."
"But you got it in easily enough," said Jack in a puzzled tone.
"Ah, yes," replied the professor, "but then I didn't have my hand clenched. Now my fist is closed and I have the specimen in it. Oh, boys, it's a beauty. One of the finest I have ever seen. It shows distinct monolithic traces."
"But if you don't drop it you can't get your hand out," argued Tom.
"I know that. That's why I shouted for help," said the professor simply.
"You'll have to let go of it," decided Jack, almost choking with laughter at the plight of the eccentric little man.
"Let go of it? My dear sir," murmured the professor in a shocked tone, "this specimen is worth at least twenty dollars, not to speak of its scientific value."
"But you can't stay here," said Jack decisively.
"And I won't let go of the specimen," declared the professor with equal firmness.
"What on earth are we to do?" said Jack, looking helplessly at Tom.
Not far off Tom had noticed a man digging potatoes. It gave him an idea.
"We can borrow that man's shovel and dig his arm out," he suggested.
"It's about the only thing to do, I guess," said Jack. "You go and see if you can get it. I'll keep the professor company."
Tom soon came back. The potato-digger accompanied him. The man was much interested in the eccentric man's plight.
"If that ain't the beatingest I ever heard on," he remarked, gazing at the professor, and then he tapped his head significantly and looked at the boys in a knowing way.
"Nobody home, eh?" he said with a grin. Fortunately the professor did not hear him; but the boys could hardly keep from laughing outright as they set to work with the spade. A few minutes of brisk digging set the professor at liberty and he was able to stand upright and triumphantly exhibit a small black rock which looked in no way remarkable, but which, it was evident, he esteemed highly.
"Ah, my little gem," he said, gazing at it fondly. "You thought you'd escape me; but you didn't. A wonderfully fine specimen, boys."
"Tell yer what," said the yokel, from whom they had borrowed the spade, "I'll pay you fifty cents a day to clean up my back pasture yonder. It's chock full of them black rocks."
"It is?" exclaimed the professor eagerly. "I must visit it some day. It would be worth writing a paper about. Most remarkable. A whole field of these stones. Well, well, this is a great day for science. But how did you boys happen to come along so opportunely?"
Jack explained, and then, suddenly, he thought of the tube of queer-looking black sand. Possibly the professor would know what it was. He drew it out and briefly narrated how he came in possession of it. The professor took the little glass vial out of its protecting lead and flannel. He adjusted his glasses and held it up to the light. Then he uncorked it and sprinkled a few grains on the palm of his hand.
He regarded it carefully for a few minutes and then drew out a huge magnifying glass. The next instant he dropped his scientific calm and uttered a sharp exclamation of astonishment.
"Where is the man who owns this?" he exclaimed. "We must see him at once."