“Oh, I don’t like to think of you going out there at night, Jerry,” objected his mother. “Though of course, if anything were to happen to the professor, it would be——”
“Here he comes now!” interrupted Jerry, with a note of relief in his voice. Steps were heard on the front steps, but they did not prove to be those of the little scientist. Instead they were those of a messenger with a note.
“It’s from the professor!” exclaimed Mrs. Hopkins, as she read it.
“What does he say?” asked Jerry, quickly.
“Why, he isn’t coming home to-night,” answered the widow, some surprise manifest in her voice. “He is on the track of some insect—he gives the Latin name of it, but I can’t pronounce it. He’s too far away from Cresville to get back until late, and he doesn’t want to put us out. He will stay at a hotel all night, and come here to-morrow or next day.”
“Well, he’s considerate, at all events,” yawned Jerry. “Now that I don’t have to worry over him I think I’ll go to bed.”
It was not unusual for the scientist to remain away several nights when he was on the trail of some rare specimen, and Mrs. Hopkins and her son were not alarmed, now that they had received word from him.
“Where did he send that from?” asked Jerry, wondering how long the professor had remained in the swamp.
“It’s from the hotel at Bellport,” replied his mother. “He telegraphed here from there.”