“Oh! well,” said Rob, “that’s because we’re in the dark concerning their real value. Look in through the half-open door and you can see several men like Professor Marsh undoing those same rolls with trembling hands.”
“Yes, and notice the awed look on their faces, will you, Rob? The director is shaking hands all around now, and beaming on his colleagues, so I guess he’s found things O. K. and hunky dory. Here he comes out to tell us so.”
The look of deep anxiety on Professor Marsh’s face had vanished, and there was a trace of a pleased smile there when he again confronted the two scouts.
“The letter inclosed from Professor McEwen speaks in the highest terms of you young gentlemen,” he said, effusively, as he stretched out both hands. “He writes that you were instruments in the hands of Providence of saving his life; and for that let me remark that you deserve the heartfelt thanks of all who are interested in the work that distinguished gentleman is doing for science. I am proud to shake you by the hand. To think that you have come three thousand miles bearing those priceless rolls, and delivered them to us here without the slightest damage. And this very night I shall write to Professor McEwen to that effect.”
“We are instructed to wire him in your name with your permission, professor, that you have received them intact,” ventured Rob.
“I will sign any message you choose to send him, son,” declared the happy director of the building devoted to the interests of science.
“And now, sir,” said Rob, “would you mind returning my suitcase?”
CHAPTER XII.
THE PEOPLE OF THE “ZONE.”
When Rob and his chum left the building they carried the empty suitcase; and besides, Professor Marsh had written and signed a long and effusive message to his learned colleague in care of Judge Collins, at Hampton, Long Island, which Rob was empowered to send, at his own expense, by wire as a night letter.
“That job is done,” said Rob, with the air of one who has gotten rid of a load that had been on his mind.