“I recognize that old coat and hat,” said Laura, firmly. “I do not see why I did not recognize Professor Dimp, in spite of his disguise, before.”
“Well!” sighed Jess. “I am thankful one of our fellow-inhabitants of the island is nobody worse than Professor Dimp.”
“But why?” demanded Bobby, wonderingly.
“We’ll find out what it means,” said Laura, with more confidence than she really felt. Of course, she was not afraid of any physical violence. But the old professor was so terribly stern and strict that it took some courage to walk across the glade, where Barnacle was chewing fish-heads, and face the shabby old gentleman.
“What, what, what?” snapped Professor Dimp, rising up from the log on which he had been sitting. “Girls from Central High, eh? Ha! Miss Belding—yes; Miss Morse—yes; Miss Hargrew—yes. Well! what do you want?”
He seemed grayer than ever. His outing in the woods (if he had been here ever since school broke up) had done him little good, for he was 156 wrinkled and troubled looking. His thin lips actually trembled as he greeted the three girls in characteristic manner. His eyes, however, were as bright as ever—like steel points. He looked this way when the boys had been a trial to him in Latin class and he was about to say something very sharp.
“We are sorry to disturb you, Professor Dimp,” said Laura, bravely. “But we are in a quandary.”
“A quandary, Miss Belding?”
“Yes, sir. Our dog has been following a man who came to our camp last night and frightened us. The dog led us right here to this spot. Have you seen him?”
“Seen the dog?” demanded the old professor. “Do you think I am blind?”