“Oh, that’s all right!” exclaimed Andy. “It was my fault, I guess, that the fish got away. And I didn’t mind the bath. It’s a hot day.”
“Oh! Why, bless my soul! It’s Andy Rush!” cried Professor Snodgrass, seeming to recognize Andy for the first time. The little chap had often gone with the boys and the scientist on trips.
“Yes, I’m Andy,” admitted the owner of that name.
“And here’s Jerry, Ned and Bob,” proceeded the scientist. “Why, bless my soul! I quite forgot all about you. I was so interested in getting that fish. I must see if it is safe,” and he looked in a box he carried slung over his shoulder by a strap—a box half-filled with grass.
“Yes, he’s there all right,” the scientist announced with glee. “Now I must painlessly put it out of misery, and see to its preservation.”
“How did you get here, and where did you come from?” asked Jerry, as soon as most of the crowd dispersed, seeing no more chance for excitement.
“Why, I am on one of my usual collecting trips,” replied the professor. “So far I have not been successful, and, as I found myself in the vicinity of Cresville I thought I would stop off and see you.”
“Glad you did,” interjected Ned, for the scientist was always welcome.
“I stopped up at your house, Jerry, as is my custom,” the little bald-headed professor went on, “and your mother made me very welcome. She said you boys had gone off in your motor boat, but would soon be back—especially as it was near dinner time,” and the professor looked at Bob, but he did not smile.
“Um!” mumbled the stout lad.