“I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Mr. Seabury. “I’ll ask Ponto, he knows everything there is to be known about this place. Ponto! I say, Ponto!”
“Yais, sah, I’se comin’ sah!” and from somewhere in the depths of the garden the voice sounded. A moment later the colored man appeared, trying to hide a broad yawn.
“Ponto, do you know—well, I declare, if you haven’t been asleep again!”
“I—I—er—I jest was weedin’ de garden, Massa Seabury, an’ I done felt so warm dat I jest closed mah eyes, jest fo’ a second, not a minute longer, no sah, not a minute. Guess I knows better dan t’ go t’ sleep when yo’ got company sah!” and Ponto looked very much hurt at the accusation.
“Well, Ponto, I suppose you can’t help it. Do you happen to know where there are any horned toads?”
“Horned toads! Good lan’, Massa Seabury! No sah! I ain’t got none!”
“I didn’t suppose you had. Do you know whether there are any around here?”
“Well, I doan know ef dey has horns or not, but de oder day, when I were comin’ home from goin’ t’ ole Mexican Pete’s shanty after some red peppers, I seen some horrible kind of thing hoppin’ along ober de sand. I—I didn’t stop t’ look an’ see ef he had horns, but I s’pects he had, cause he were kind of diggin’ in de sand.”
“That’s the toad all right!” exclaimed the professor, joyfully. “Where is the place? Take me out there right away, Ponto.”
“Take you out dere, Perfesser?”