“Well, not exactly,” Bob answered slowly, for he had been about to say that he had thought his assailant was none other than the queer little man—a thought shared by Ned and Jerry.
“Well, I hope it doesn’t happen again,” said the afflicted one. “And I’m sure it won’t. I’m getting better, I know.”
“We’ll keep him a little more confined than we have been doing,” said the doctor to Jerry and his friends, when the nurse had led away the shell-shocked individual. “This is the second or third time he has gotten loose in the night and started a fight. Fortunately, none of them ended seriously. Better let me look you over,” the medical major suggested to Bob. “He didn’t bite you anywhere, did he?”
“Not a bite!” answered Bob, with a laugh. “Though he did gouge me a bit on the neck.”
Bob’s throat was scratched by the other’s finger nails, and an antiseptic wash was applied to prevent any possible bad effect. Then such quiet as was possible under the circumstances replaced the midnight excitement.
“At first I thought it was le cochon,” remarked Ned in a low voice to his chums, as they turned in to get what sleep they could.
“That was my first idea when I awoke and found him choking me,” admitted Bob. “Though I couldn’t form any good reason why he should want to put me out of business.”
“There’s something queer about le cochon,” declared Jerry. By common consent the boys had adopted that name for the strange little man. “Why should he be on board here where no civilians—or at least none unless specially qualified—are permitted? And why should he have such a feeling against Professor Snodgrass?”
“Those are questions I’d like to have answered,” said Ned. “Did either of you ever hear our professor speak of an individual who somewhat resembled him?”
“If he ever knew such to be a fact,” declared Jerry, “he’d never give it a thought or remember to tell us. All he thinks of is bugs, bugs, and then more bugs.”