“A flea!” exclaimed the southerner, while the others in the crowd looked as though they thought the professor had gone crazy.
“Yes, a beautiful red flea, and very rare.”
“Excuse me, stranger,” went on the man who had first spoken, “no offense, yo’ understand, but if yo’ want about seven million of them fleas I reckon we can accommodate yo’. I’ve got a dog that’d give a good bit to git rid of ’em, an’ I reckon as how some others I know can supply yo’. Take ’em all, an’ welcome, but don’t turn ’em loose again in Kissimmee City.”
“Thank you,” replied the scientist, as though some one had presented him with a large sum of money. “I only require one or two. The kind I seek is not as common as you think. There! I have him,” and he made a sudden movement with the tiny net, imprisoning the hopping red captive.
“All kinds of fleas is too common around heah,” observed the tall man.
“That’s right,” chorused his companions.
But the professor was intent only on his captive. He carefully placed it in a bottle and then turned to look for the boys. He had been oblivious to everything, save the red flea, since he had first seen the creature.
The travelers found a hotel and, after arranging for their rooms, the three boys decided to visit the freight station and inquire about the Dartaway.
They found the office deserted, and, after tramping about the platform, and calling out in vain for some one of whom they might make inquiries, they saw, approaching, a little colored boy.
“Wuz yo’ uns a-lookin’ fer any one?” he asked.