But before the shouts had done resounding, a tall, spare man of middle age stepped out on the platform of one of the front coaches, and after gazing about him abstractedly for a few seconds, swung himself off, landing unsteadily on a pair of long, slender legs. So great was the shock of the professor's landing that his huge spectacles were jerked off his prominent nose, and he had all he could do to retain a hold on a large volume which he held tightly clasped under his left arm.
The boys hurried to pick up the professor's spectacles and hand them to him.
"We almost lost you, professor!" exclaimed Ralph.
"Ah, boys, I was immersed in the classics—'The Defense of Socrates,' and——"
"Why, Professor Wintergreen, where is your suitcase?" exclaimed Jack suddenly. "See—the train is moving, and——"
"Shades of Grecian Plato!" shouted the professor, glancing about him wildly. "I've forgotten it! Stop! I must get it back! I——"
He made a sudden dash for the train, which was now moving so swiftly that it was manifestly impossible that he could board it in safety. The boys both pulled him back, despite his struggles.
Just then, the car which the boys had recently vacated began to glide by. A black face appeared at the window. It was the porter, and in his hand he held a large green suitcase. It was the same the professor had left behind him when he vacated the car in which they had traveled from the East, and went forward into the smoking car with his book.
"Look out!" yelled the porter, as he threw the piece of baggage out of the window. It hurtled forth with a vehemence indeed that threatened to take off the scientist's head, which it narrowly missed.
"Fo' de Lawd!" the porter shouted back, as the train gathered way. "Wha' yo all got in dat valise—bricks?"