Uncle Jim—Made thirty or forty voyages there, sir.
Professor—And I suppose you know something about the Patagonians and their habits?
Uncle Jim—Know all about 'em, sir. Know the Patagonians, sir, all, all of 'em, as well as I know the Stonington folks.
Professor—I wanted to ask you, Captain, about the size of the Patagonians—whether they are giants, as travelers have reported?
Uncle Jim—No, sir—shaking his head slowly, and speaking with the modest tone of indifference—no, sir, they are not. (It was quite probable that the Captain never had heard the suggestion before). The height of the Patagonian, sir, is just five feet nine inches and a half.
Professor—How did you ascertain this fact, Captain?
Uncle Jim—Measured 'em, sir—measured 'em. One day when the mate and I were ashore down there, I called up a lot of the Patagonians, and the mate and I measured about 500 of them, and every one of them measured five feet nine inches and a half—that's their exact height.
Professor—That's very interesting. But, Captain, don't you suppose there were giants there long ago, in the former generations? All the travelers say so.
Uncle Jim—Not a word of truth in it, sir—not a word. I'd heard that story and I thought I'd settle it. I satisfied myself there was nothing in it.
Professor—But how could you know that they used not to be giants? What evidence could you get? Mightn't the former race have been giants?