“Oh, yes. There’s a new slant to the affair now. It seems those fellows have bought up all the swamp but the tract mother owns. And, if she doesn’t sell, they threaten to shut off her right of way—that is, even if she owns the land she won’t be able to get to it unless she goes up in our airship.”
“Can they do that?” asked Ned.
“It seems they can. No one ever thought much of that swamp land, and deeds and papers regarding it weren’t as carefully drawn as they would have been if the land had been on the main street. So if mother doesn’t sell, her land won’t be worth anything, anyhow.”
“That’s too bad!” sympathized Bob. “Still, it may be for the best after all.”
“I hope so,” murmured Jerry.
In the days that followed the professor’s characterization of the yellow mud as worthless, the boys saw little of him. He was off, presumably searching for the two-tailed lizard, a reptile in which our heroes, for the time being, took little interest.
“The professor sure has found some queer things in his day,” admitted Ned, “but this is the limit! I wonder if he really believes there is such a thing?”
“Well, of course such a thing is possible, as a freak,” spoke Jerry. “I saw a two-headed calf at a fair, once, so a two-tailed lizard wouldn’t be so much out of the way.”
The professor seemed willing to search indefinitely around Cresville for the lizard, or other specimens, though, once or twice, he did ask the boys when they expected to start off on a tour, for no summer went by without seeing them off after some sort of adventures.
“We’ll go next week,” decided Jerry. “By that time this land business will be settled, one way or the other, and I’ll feel easier in my mind. Now let’s go out there, and see what’s up.”