“Excellent! Excellent!” murmured Professor Snodgrass. “I would not have missed this for anything. But I—er—something seems to be the matter,” he went on in puzzled tones.
“The matter? Where?” asked Ned.
“With one of my feet. It seems so cold. Can it be frost bitten?” and he looked down at the ground. The boys did too, and broke out into peals of laughter. For the professor was still standing with one foot in the puddle of cold water, a fact to which he had been oblivious while engaged in capturing and putting away the butterfly.
“You ought to wear rubber boots,” Jerry said. “Shall we take you back to get a dry shoe?”
“No, it isn’t as cold as it was at first, and I want to get another specimen.”
He had good luck, for he secured two more, and then consented to be driven back to the cottage.
“Same old professor,” remarked Jerry.
“That’s what,” agreed Bob.
Baseball practice went on for several days, and the varsity was getting in good shape, while the scrub, or second team, under the captaincy of Tom Bacon, was making shifts and changes, trying to get the best lads fitted to the right positions.