“Onpleasant!” exclaimed Captain Sprowl, “that’s the word and then some, my lad. They’d drive us out of the tree and then——”
He waved his hand at the surging brown mass below in eloquent silence.
“’And the little ‘uns picked the bones—o-h-h-h!’” he sang dismally.
The professor, who was seated astride one of the lower limbs, interrupted at this juncture.
“Here iss luck!” he exclaimed. “Look, mein friends! I catch a fine spezimen!”
He held up in triumph the body of an ant that he had caught climbing up the trunk. It was fully two inches long and armed with a pair of immense forceps as related to the rest of its structure.
“Did that ant climb up the tree?” demanded the captain sharply.
“Ches! You didn’t dink dot it flewed up, hein?” asked the professor, popping the dead ant into his specimen box.
The boys laughed at this example of Teutonic wit. But Captain Sprowl did not appear amused. Instead he gave vent to a low whistle that sounded somehow indicative of dismay.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.