From somewhere underneath an immense pile of iron, steel and aluminum came the voice of a colored man.
“Yas sir, Perfesser, I’se goin’ t’ saggasiate my bodily presence in yo’ contiguous proximity an’ attend t’ yo’ immediate conglomerated prescriptions at th’ predistined period. Yas, sir!”
“Well, Washington, if you had started when you began that long speech you would have been at least half way here by this time. Hurry up! Never mind tightning those bolts now. Find the boys. I need them to help me with this engine. They must be around somewhere.”
“I seen ’em goin’ fishin’ down by th’ brook a little while ago,” answered the negro, crawling out from under what seemed to be a combined airship and watercraft. “Jack says as how yo’ gived him permission t’ occupy his indisputatious period of levity in endeavorin’ t’ extract from th’ liquid element some specimens of swimmin’ creatures.”
“If you mean I said he and Mark could go fishing in the brook, you’re right, Washington,” replied the professor with a smile. “But you waste a lot of time and breath trying to say it. Why don’t you give up using big words?”
“I reckon I was brought up t’ it,” replied the colored man grinning from ear to ear. He did not always use big words but when he did they were generally the wrong ones. Sometimes, he spoke quite correctly.
“Well, I suppose you can’t help it,” resumed Mr. Henderson. “However, never mind that. Find the boys and send them to me.”
“With th’ least appreciatableness amount of postponement,” answered the messenger, and he went out.
Washington White, who in color was just the opposite to his name, a general helper and companion to Professor Henderson, found Mark Sampson and Jack Darrow about a quarter of a mile from the big shed, which was in the center of a wooded island off the coast of Maine. The lads were seated on the bank of a small brook, fishing.
“Perfesser wants yo’ immediate,” said Washington.