“Why, it’s poetry!” declared Harry.
“Well, I don’t claim much for the rhymes,” answered the doctor, modestly. “Got it, Chub?”
“Er—well, you see, sir, being in rhyme makes it more difficult.”
The others jeered.
“Of course I don’t mean that I can’t guess it, only that it requires more effort. Now let me see: ‘Flies through the air without wings;’ that’s a balloon. ‘Swims through the sea without fins;’ that’s—that’s an eel. Er—what was the rest, doctor?”
“‘Has nails but no toes,
Sheets but no clothes,
On each of its fingers wears rings.’”
replied the doctor.
Chub was silent a moment. Then, “I—I think it’s an ichthyosaurus,” he said.
“You’ll have to guess again,” laughed the doctor. “How about you, Dick?”