Pulled the holes out of the floor! Such an astonishing statement was enough to warp a donkey's credulity. But the operation was finished at last, and Pod returned to the hotel to answer some letters, one of which seemed to tickle him very much. It was from a farmer in the neighborhood, and I'll quote it word for word.
Cornville Hollow, Iowa, May 6, 1897.
Prof. Pithygors Pod, Eskire, M. D.:
Illustrious Sir:—My wife has give me unexpeckted opertunety ter do ye the grate onner of namin our latest and last kid after ye and if ye cum this here way ye will see a namesake ye will be prowd of. Times are not so good with us of late but hope they air with you wishing you a socksessfull jurny I remane Yours fraternally
Cy Sumac.
I did not see Pod's reply, but I took him to the post office to purchase a ninety-nine cent money order, which he mailed to Cy, and overheard him say that was all the money he had when he started and no man had a right to think he was any richer now, and hoped naming children after him wasn't going to become a fad.
On our way to the hotel a little girl, walking with her papa, expressed the wish to ride on my back. Pod overheard her, and jumping off, placed the little one in the saddle, and led me down the street.
Pod is never safe without a chaperone. He had no more than got his land legs than a monstrous colored woman, whose avoirdupois was out of proportion to her energy, and with shoes that made him keep his distance, stepped in his way, and with a grin half the width of an adult watermelon asked him if he was "shully dat wonderful traveler Pye-tag-o-rastus w'at was chasin' a mule roun de world."
For a second Pod was somewhat colored, too; but he laughed, and said he believed he was the gentleman. Then the old mammy held out a great black hand, with knotted fingers, looking more like an elephant's foot than anything else, and asked if she might have the honor to walk a piece with him. The Professor took the proffered hand, and the pair sauntered on down town, and were soon lost in the crowd.