“Yes, yes,” the professor agreed. “Very remarkable and most useful!”
“Of course,” said Johnny, with a touch of modesty. “I learned all this from Lee Martin. He took me on as a helper and sort of body-guard. I just absorbed this camera stuff as we went along.”
“I see,” said the professor, “that you have learned one of the real secrets of success.”
“What’s that?” Johnny asked.
“To learn all you can about everything that comes your way, and to file that knowledge away in your brain. One never can tell when the opportunity to use such information may come to him. Perhaps never, but it’s always there!
“You should be a great aid to us,” the professor added thoughtfully. “You see,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, “I regard this work as the most interesting and exciting of my entire career. Young man,”—his eyes fairly shone, “what place do you think of as our last frontier?”
Then, before Johnny could reply—“You may go east, west, north, south” the professor continued “but you find no frontier. You must go up or down! Up into the stratosphere—or down, into the sea. These are our last frontiers. Dave and I have chosen the deep sea, because there we may yet discover forms of life not known to man. These pictures,” he held them up, “show two types of fish never before seen—and we have but begun!”
* * * * * * * *
“We have but begun,” Johnny repeated softly to himself as, some hours later, he once more paced the deck in his solitary vigil. “We have begun. Where shall we end? We—”
His soliloquy was interrupted. Had he caught a gleam out there on the water? He thought so. Now it was gone.