“How did you ever get down there?” asked Jerry.
“It was all my fault,” said Professor Snodgrass. “We were walking along, and I saw a particularly rare specimen of a little garter-snake. It was moving through the grass and I raced after it. It went over the edge of the cliff, and I reached down and tried to get it. It was so far over that I had to lie down flat on my face and stretch my arms. Then——”
“Yes, an’ when he found he couldn’t reach the critter even then,” interrupted Broswick, “he asked Nestor an’ me to hold his heels while he stretched down. Blamed if I ever do such a thing ag’in.”
“Why not?” asked Bob.
“’Cause jest as soon as me an’ Nestor got hold of his heels an’ was easin’ him over the cliff, I’ll be jiggered if the whole top didn’t give way an’ there we was, slidin’ down the mountain at about forty miles a minute. I thought we was gone coons sure, but we struck on the ledge an’ that saved us.”
“We’d been there yet if you boys hadn’t come along,” said Nestor. “But say, I’m mighty hungry.”
“There isn’t much to eat,” spoke Jerry.
“Yes, there is,” came from the hunter. “I shot some partridge jest afore we had that bloomin’ old snake hunt.”
He walked over to where he had left his game and came back with a double brace of fine birds. It was not long before the partridges were roasting over a fire and every one with a good appetite prepared to eat.
“Where’s my specimen box?” suddenly exclaimed the professor, after an inspection of the auto. “It’s gone!”