There was no resisting the appeal of Uriah Snodgrass, and a little later, fondly gazing at the butterfly which was now enclosed in a sealed glass box containing cyanide that had instantly and painlessly put it to death, the professor walked back to his rock.
Glad, indeed, were the boys that it was a secluded place, for had any one gazed at the antics of the half-clothed gentleman racing along after a yellow butterfly, no doubt the police would have been notified that a lunatic had escaped.
“My, but I’m glad I caught it!” said the professor fervently, as he pressed the water from his coat and trousers. “It’s worth all the trouble it caused me. A most valuable specimen!”
“How is it you aren’t at Boxwood Hall?” asked Bob, as the professor’s garments were hung about on bushes to dry in the hot sun and wind, for it was decided to let some of the moisture get out before having him put them on again.
“Oh, I’ve given up the zoölogy chair at Boxwood,” was the answer. And, in reply to the surprised looks of the boys, the professor went on: “I did so on the advice of my doctor. He said I was indoors too much. I must spend all this summer and fall in the open. I am going to travel. In fact, I have just started. And when I found I had some time on my hands, I decided to come and see my old pupils. My, but you’ve changed a lot since I last saw you!” he said, looking at the lads.
“We’ve been to war,” said Jerry.
“Oh, yes, there was a war,” murmured Uriah Snodgrass, as if he could have forgotten it! As a matter of fact, he had been on the transport on which Ned, Bob and Jerry returned home. “Well, at any rate, I am away from Boxwood Hall on a year’s leave of absence,” said the professor.
“And what are you going to do?” Bob wanted to know.
“Travel and collect specimens,” was the answer.