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Updated: June 8, 2025
Nevertheless, Professor Smawl had her hard eyes on me, and I realized she meant mischief. The encounter took place just as I, driving the five mules, entered the great mountain gateway, thrilled with anticipation which almost amounted to foreboding.
And as for the late expedition to Florida, Heaven knows I am ready to repeat it nay, I am already forming a plan for the rescue but though I am prepared to encounter any danger for the sake of my beloved superior, Professor Farrago, I do not feel inclined to commit indiscretions in order to pry into secrets which, as I regard it, concern Professor Smawl and William Spike alone.
We were still mutely adoring the dingue when Professor Smawl burst into the tent at a hand-gallop, bawling hoarsely for her kodak and note-book. Dorothy seized her triumphantly by the arm and pointed at the dingue, which appeared to be frightened to death. "What!" cried Professor Smawl, scornfully; "that a dingue? Rubbish!" "Madam," I said, firmly, "it is a dingue! It's a monodactyl! See!
"Thank you," she replied, accepting my assistance very sweetly; "it is a pleasure to meet a human being again." I glanced at Miss Smawl. She was eating game-broth, but she resembled a human being in a general way. "I should very much like to wash my hands," said Professor Van Twiller, drawing the buckskin gloves from her slim fingers. I brought towels and soap and conducted her to the brook.
"I am quite convinced," said I to Professor Lesard, "that Miss Smawl is perfectly capable of abusing the information she overheard, and of starting herself to explore a region that, by all the laws of decency, justice, and prior claim, belongs to me." "Well," said Lesard, with a peculiar laugh, "it's not certain whether you can go at all."
At all events, neither Professor Smawl nor her William Spike ever returned; no exploring expedition has found a trace of mule or lady, of William or the dingue. The new expedition to be organized by Barnard College may penetrate still farther. I suppose that, when the time comes, I shall be expected to volunteer.
"I haven't any time to waste over that musical woodchuck!" she shouted, and bounced out of the tent. "What have you discovered, dear?" cried Dorothy, running after her. "A mammoth!" bawled Professor Smawl, triumphantly; "and I'm going to photograph him!" Neither Dorothy nor I believed her. We watched the flight of the infatuated woman in silence.
"Lesard," I said, hoarsely, "you don't suppose that they could possibly elect Miss Smawl as our president, do you?" He looked at me askance and bit his cigar. "I'd be in a nice position, wouldn't I?" said I, anxiously. "The lady would probably make you walk the plank for that tiger business," he replied. "But I didn't do it," I protested, with sickly eagerness. "Besides, I explained to her "
At times this grotesque situation became almost unbearable, and I often went away by myself and indulged in fantasies, firing my gun off and pretending I had hit Miss Smawl by mistake. At such moments I would imagine I was free at last to plunge into the strange country, and I would squat on a rock and dream of bagging my first mammoth.
"To that corpulent figgur," sez I, "in military fixins." "That, sair," sez he, with severity, "is a portrait of his Majusty the King of Denmark, lately disEased." "A portraickt of his cloze, you mean," sez I. "Is that sprorling pictur a work of art? With that I scowled at the Creteck, and left him looking considerable smawl pertaters.
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