"Courbertin! He can read it!" some one called in the crowd.
A way was made for the Frenchman forthwith, and he was pushed and shoved, protestingly, to the front.
"Savve the lingo?" Del demanded.
"Yes; but so poorly, so miserable," Courbertin demurred. "It is a long time. I forget."
"Go ahead. We won't criticise."
"No, but—"
"Go ahead!" the chairman commanded.
Del thrust the book into his hands, opened at the yellow title-page. "I've been itching to get my paws on some buck like you for months and months," he assured him, gleefully. "And now I've got you, you can't shake me, Charley. So fire away."
Courbertin began hesitatingly: "'The Journal of Father Yakontsk, Comprising an Account in Brief of his Life in the Benedictine Monastery at Obidorsky, and in Full of his Marvellous Adventures in East Siberia among the Deer Men.'"
The baron looked up for instructions.