“Back where?” Ned questioned.
“Back in there among the bunks,” was the answer. “I—I put my hand on a face.”
“A face!” cried Jerry. “What in the world is he talking about? Did that chocolate go to your head, Bob?”
“It was a face!” insisted the stout lad. “I—I felt the nose and—and spectacles. It was warm and soft and—and——”
At that moment there was a movement in the rear of the car, in the space behind the seats. Something—or somebody to be more correct—arose and started forward. The boys had a glimpse of a face—the face with a nose as Bob had described it.
And then, as Jerry brought the car to a sudden stop, with an application of the screeching brakes, the boys, looking back, cried in unison:
“Professor Snodgrass!”
“At your service!” beamed the little scientist as he yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I must have fallen asleep,” he added, casually.
“Fallen asleep!” repeated Jerry, wonderingly.
“Where did you come from?” asked Bob.