CHAPTER V

PROFESSOR SNODGRASS

For a moment Jerry’s chums looked at him curiously, and then Ned exclaimed:

“That’s right! There may be something back of all this. Come on, Bob, help get some of this mud.”

“Say, it’s nasty and sticky,” complained the stout youth, who was somewhat fastidious about his personal appearance.

“Oh, never mind!” laughed Jerry, who did not mind soiling his hands. “I only want a little for analysis. I’ve got enough,” and he wrapped a chunk in some green leaves that he pulled from a wild grapevine.

“And you really think it might be of some value?” asked Ned, washing his hands in a pool of water, for he had dug up a small chunk of the yellow clay for Jerry.

“As I said, I’m not a bit sure--only suspicious,” spoke the tall lad. “It’s worth taking a chance on, that’s all. And certainly, if what Fussel says is true, and he’s draining the swamp, mother’s land won’t be of any use unless that’s drained also. And, in case there’s no value in this clay, she might as well get rid of her property to this concern, that has offered a good price--that is, if there’s nothing back of it.”

“Then if you can’t find anything valuable in this clay you’ll advise her to sell?” asked Ned.

“I think so. And from the fact that several persons have tried to find some use for this yellow mud, and have failed, I’m not very hopeful,” went on Jerry. “But it would be a fine thing if mother could make some money out of this swamp land. For she has lost considerable of late.”

“Has she?” asked Bob, sympathetically. “I thought you said a few days ago that it wasn’t much.”

“It’s turned out worse since then,” and Jerry’s usually smiling face wore a worried look. “In fact, fellows, my mother may be very glad to sell this swamp land,” he went on.

“No wonder he was absent-minded,” confided Bob to Ned in a whisper, as they got in the motor boat, while Jerry was busy loosing the bow line.

“Yes--I had no idea the trouble was so serious,” admitted Ned. “Well, we’ll help him if we can.”

“That’s what!” agreed the stout youth, heartily.

On the way down Cabbage Creek the boys talked of the clay-diggers, speculating as to what could be their object. But they could arrive at no definite conclusion.

“I wonder if you’re of any use after all?” exclaimed Jerry, kicking the lump of yellow clay at his feet.

“It might be good to caulk a boat,” suggested Ned, “and I see we’ve got a little leak here,” he added, as he pointed to some water in the pit below the flywheel of the motor.

“That comes in through the stuffing-box,” said Jerry. “It just needs a little tightening. We’ll haul her out to-morrow.”

“Yes, we ought to get her in good trim, and take a long trip,” suggested Bob. “We could pack up a lot of grub----”

“There he goes! Grab him before he makes it any worse!” laughed Ned, extending a hand to clap over Bob’s mouth. But the fat lad evaded his tormentor.

“That’s all right!” Bob protested. “We’ll want something to eat if we go on a cruise; won’t we?”

“Sure we will!” agreed Jerry. “Don’t let him worry you, Bob. He’s just as fond of eating as you are, Chunky, only he hides his bad habit. But, seriously, fellows, what are we going to do this vacation?”

“We ought to do something,” declared Ned. “Every summer we have gone somewhere, or done something. I wouldn’t mind finding another buried Mexican city.”

“Me either!” cried Bob. “Or locating the hermit of Lost Lake.”

“That wasn’t a bad stunt,” admitted Jerry. “I don’t know as I care for a trip like our last one, though, in a submarine. It’s a little too uncertain, especially when you’re cooped up under the sea with a madman.”

“You’ve said it!” cried Bob. “I think our airship stunts were about as good as any. The time we went after that fortune we had lots of exciting times.”

“And when we were over the ocean, looking for the lost dirigible--that kept us guessing,” said Ned.

“Quit it, fellows,” begged Jerry. “You’re getting me all excited. I want to start off on a trip right now!”

“Why don’t we?” asked Bob, quickly.

Jerry, for answer, kicked the lump of clay at his feet.

“I first want to get this business settled,” said the tall lad. “After that I may go off somewhere.”

“Don’t forget us,” urged Ned. “We want to be in it.”

“Oh, we’ll all go together,” Jerry agreed. “It won’t take long to settle the question about this clay, I think. And then we can go off on a trip. What’ll we take--the airship, motor boat or automobile?”

“All three!” cried Bob.

“That’s a little too much of a proposition,” laughed Jerry. “We might cut out the airship, and take turns using the car and this boat. We could send the car on ahead, and after a long cruise pick up the auto at some place, journey as far as we liked in that, and come back to the boat.”

“That sounds good!” cried Ned. “Let’s do it!”

None of the chums realized under what strange circumstances they were soon to take a trip of that sort.

“Well, we’ll think about it,” agreed Jerry, as he guided the boat on her homeward course.

With this new thought to occupy their minds the boys found plenty to talk about, varying their remarks occasionally with references to the clay-diggers.

“Jerry,” began Ned, diffidently, “if you’re short of cash, you know--I mean if your mother’s investments--oh, hang it! Say, if you want a loan, you know where to come for it!” he cried.

“Say, count me in on that!” added Bob, with energy.

“I’ve got my mining stock,” went on Ned, “and you know if it hadn’t been for you we wouldn’t have that! So call on me for all you want, Jerry!”

“And me, too!” interjected Bob.

“That’s awfully good of you fellows,” spoke Jerry, his voice a bit husky. “But it isn’t as bad as that. I have my stock, too, when it comes to that. But I don’t imagine we’ll go to the poor house this year. I appreciate your offers just the same.”

The boys were in receipt of comfortable sums of money from a gold mine they had helped an old miner to recover, as told in a previous volume.

Winding in and out, along the devious channel of Cabbage Creek, the motor boat finally reached the broader river that led to the dock near Jerry’s house. As the craft approached the little pier the boys saw a small crowd assembled on it.

“Hello! Something’s up!” exclaimed Jerry, who was guiding the swift craft.

“Hope nobody has fallen overboard,” observed Ned, anxiously.

A moment later they heard a shrill voice crying:

“He’s got it! There it is! Hold his legs, somebody! Don’t let him fall in! Oh, he’s got it! A big one, too!”

“That’s Andy Rush!” cried Bob. “It sure is!”

“Yes, and somebody is evidently in the water,” chimed in Ned. “Hurry up!”

“No, he spoke of an ‘it,’” declared Jerry. “And there isn’t quite enough excitement to indicate a drowning.”

“Well, speed up and see what it is,” suggested Ned.

“Hurray! He’s got it!” cried Andy Rush, and the excitable chap could be seen dancing about the outer edge of the crowd on the dock.

Jerry guided the boat to the stringpiece. The crowd moved back, and parted. A small man, who had been stretched out full length, with his head and shoulders over the edge of the wharf, suddenly arose. He had a small net in his hands, and something in the meshes was wiggling.

“I have it!” cried the little man. His hat fell off, revealing a shiny bald head and a pair of spectacled eyes. “I have it!” he cried again. “The finest specimen of a calico bass I have ever seen! Now my collection is complete!”

He held the dripping net and the wiggling fish afloat, and then his eyes fell on the boys.

“Professor Snodgrass!” cried Bob.

Jerry said nothing. He shut off the motor, and, as he looked at the lump of yellow clay in the bottom of the boat, he thought:

“This is most opportune! I’ll get Professor Snodgrass to analyze this for me.”