The professor was now within ten feet of the end of the platform, and it seemed that nothing could save him. But Ned and Jerry, who were looking with horror in their eyes at their friend, reckoned without Bob. The stout lad was on the after part of the motorship, at one edge of the platform. He looked up as he heard the cries, and saw the scientist coming. Then Bob acted.
Instead of calling to Mr. Snodgrass, the fat lad fairly rolled out directly in his path, and lay there. There could be but one result. The professor, his eyes fixed on the insect that was fluttering before him, did not see Bob. But he could not avoid him.
The next instant he had stumbled over him, and went down in a heap, about four feet from the end of the platform, his net slipping from his grasp, and falling off into space.
“Ugh!” grunted Bob, as the breath was knocked from him by the impact with the professor.
“Oh, my dear boy! Did I hurt you?” exclaimed the scientist as he slowly arose.
“Not—not much,” gasped the fat youth.
“Oh dear! My best net is gone! And the insect has disappeared!” lamented Mr. Snodgrass.
“And in another minute you would have disappeared!” declared Jerry half angrily. “You must not take such chances, Professor. Only for Bob you would have been killed.”
“Well, I’m much obliged to Bob, I’m sure,” said Mr. Snodgrass with a curious air. “Very much obliged. I wonder where I can get another handle for the new butterfly net which I must make?”
“And that’s all he thinks about his narrow escape,” commented Ned. “Say, he’ll give us heart disease if he keeps on this way.”