Out of the little cave he crawled, covered with dirt and cobwebs, but cupped in his hands he held something fragile, to judge by the care he exercised.
“Please hand me one of my specimen boxes, Jerry,” he directed.
“Where are they?” asked the tall lad, looking about.
“Over by that stunted pine. I hope you can find one that isn’t smashed.”
“Smashed! Did they smash your boxes, Professor?” asked Mr. Mallison.
“They did worse than that!” replied Professor Snodgrass. “I’ll tell you all about it in a moment. Quick, Jerry, if you please, the box! I don’t want this moth to get away. It was the only one left in the cave, but it is a very rare specimen—a beauty! Hurry with the box, Jerry!”
The tall lad could not repress a cry of surprise when, once at the foot of the stunted pine, he saw what wreck and havoc had been wrought. But there was no time now for regrets. He managed to find one small, but whole, specimen box, and the fluttering moth was transferred to it safely from the cupped hands of the professor.
“Now that you have him safe, can’t you tell us what happened?” asked Tinny Mallison, a bit impatiently. He was accustomed to quick action, and once he had started a task he liked to finish it—“mop it up,” as he used to express it in France. Just now he wanted to be after the Nixon gang to rescue his mine foreman.
“Yes, now I can tell you,” the professor said. “As you have guessed, it was that miserable Noddy Nixon and Jack Pender. They had a stranger with them——”
“It must have been Dolt Haven,” suggested Bob. “But you saw him before.”