"That I wants ter be paid fer ther damage ter my fence."
"How much do you want?" asked Jack, coming to the rescue.
"Reckon a dollar'll be about right."
"If you will let me lend it to you till we reach your home, I'll be very glad to pay him," said Jack aside to the professor.
"But, my dear young friend, there is no necessity. He has ample security till I can send him a check. Why, that bag of specimens is worth fifty dollars at least."
"Them old rocks," sniffed the farmer, who had overheard this last remark, "I wouldn't give yer ten cents fer a cartload uv 'em. They're too small fer fences an' too big to throw at cows."
"You'd better let me pay him," said Jack, and the professor finally consented to this arrangement.
This done, they started back on the run to the professor's home, which was about three miles off. On the way they dropped the red-faced farmer and his hands, who clearly regarded the professor as some sort of an amiable lunatic. But that worthy man, supremely happy despite his wet clothes, was quite contented, and from time to time dipped into his satchel, like a bookworm into a favorite volume, and drew out a particularly valued specimen and admired it.
They soon reached his home, a pretty cottage on the outskirts of Creston, a small town with elm-shaded streets. The professor invited the boys to accompany him into the house. They were met in the passage by a shrill-voiced woman who looked like the professor in petticoats.
"My sister, Miss Melissa," said the professor. "My dear, these are——"