Nothing loath, Gillespie complied, quickly finding the correct point upon which the professor's interest had centred, holding the glasses motionless for a brief space, then giving vent to an eager ejaculation.
“What is it all about, bless you, boy?” demanded Waldo, unable longer to curb his hot impatience. “Another drifting tree, eh?”
“No, but,—did you see it, uncle?”
“I saw something which—what do YOU see, first?”
“A great big suck,—a monster whirlpool which is hollowed like—”
“I knew it! I felt that must be the true solution of it all!” cried uncle Phaeton, squirming about pretty much as one might into whose veins had been injected quicksilver in place of ordinary blood. “The outlet! Where the surplus waters drain off to the Pacific Ocean!”
“I say, give me a chance, can't you?” interrupted Waldo, grasping the glasses and shifting his station for one more favourable as a lookout.
He had seen sufficient to catch the right angle, and then gave a suppressed snort as he took in the view. Half a minute thus, then a wild cry escaped his lips, closely followed by the words:
“Now I DO see something! And it isn't a drifting tree, either! Or, that is, something else which—shove her closer, uncle Phaeton! True as you live, there's something caught in yonder big suck which is—closer, for love of glory!”
“If this is another joke, Waldo—”