“Oh, yes—quite sure.”
“Did you catch the fish you wanted to examine, or did he take to his wings and fly away?”
“Oh, that was only my poor little jest. You didn’t take it seriously, did you?”
Then, interrupting the reply that Cal had begun to make, he said rapidly:
“But I did want to make another examination of the fish in question. You see, when I examined a specimen a few days ago, my attention was concentrated upon certain definite points, and when I casually observed something that suggested the possibility of its having a sense of taste, I went on with the other questions in my mind and quite forgot to satisfy myself on this point. But when I sat down this morning to write notes of my observations, the point came back to my mind, and I saw that I must examine another specimen before writing at all. That is what I meant by saying, in figurative speech, that my fish went flying away among the bushes, or whatever else it was that I said.”
“But, Professor,” said Larry, “something you said about a fish’s sense of taste just now awakens my curiosity. May I ask you—”
“Not now,” said Dick. “Let’s reserve all that for this evening after supper. You see Tom isn’t here now, and he will want to hear it all. Maybe the professor will let us turn loose our tongues to-night and ask him the dozen questions we have in our minds.”
“Yes—a thousand, if you wish,” Dunbar answered. “I have studied fish with more interest, perhaps, than I ever felt in investigating any other subject, and naturally I like to air the results of my inquiries.”
Larry busied himself taking the dinner from the fire, and as he did so Tom returned.