Bull . . . . Horrrrr rorrrr rorrrr (too like buffalo).
Beagle . . . . Irrrrp yirrrrrp yirrp (lacks dignity).
Elephant . . . . Arrraooow arrraooow (hard on
one’s throat).
He went through the list of the mammals and the result was disappointing. None of them seemed so interesting as a seal, and besides, he did not wish to lay himself open to the charge of plagiarism. He could not, of course, employ the calls of birds, although he was rather good at that; it seemed sacrilegious to employ ornithology as a parlor trick.
He turned his attention to the noises made by inanimate things; he jotted down in his book “fog-horn, buzzsaw, locomotive, saxophone.” He was considering them with furrowed brow when Armbuster agitatedly burst in. He disliked Armbuster; he gave himself too many airs for a mere bee man; Hervey considered it rather an imposition when Armbuster was given an adjoining laboratory at the Museum.
“Have you seen her, Deyo?” cried Armbuster.
“Her? Who?”
“My queen. She’s escaped.”
“No,” said Hervey Deyo coldly. It was annoying to have one’s thoughts broken in upon to be asked about a wretched bee.