George resumed: “That is a foolish conclusion; for there are no human bones here at all! Not a skull, nor a radius, nor a—, a—”
At this point Charley interrupted the osteologist by saying, “George, don’t tell off the parts of a skeleton with such disgusting gusto; have a little respect, even for bones.”
“Well, I will;” George assented—the more willingly because he found himself less versed in the matter than he had imagined. “But it was very foolish to think of murder. Boys, do you want to know what it is? I know; I’ve solved your mystery: I’ll reap all the glory!” he cried, so excited that he lost control of his voice.
“Well, what is it?” Will asked sharply, perhaps afraid that George had detected the fraud.
Groundless fear; George was quite as credulous as Marmaduke.
Wild with excitement, his voice rang out loud and discordant. He shouted, at the top of his voice, “Boys, it’s a fossil!”
“A what?” Charley demanded.
“A fossil! An extinct animal! A mastodon! A gyasticütûs! (If this word is new to the reader, let him raise his voice and pronounce it according to the accents.) Yes; here is a field for a geologist or naturalist; not for a humdrum, cigar-puffing, bejewelled detective!”
And the Sage’s form dilated with pride and complacency. His day had come. He could have it all his own way now; for what did the others know about geology?