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Updated: May 20, 2025
The Tumble-Bug was driven away with stripes, and the draftsmen of the expedition were set to making views of the Monument from different standpoints, while Professor Woodlouse, in a frenzy of scientific zeal, traveled all over it and all around it hoping to find an inscription. But if there had ever been one, it had decayed or been removed by some vandal as a relic.
Two others rolled over on their sides after touching ground. One ended up on its back like a tumble-bug, wriggling. They seemed to land by hundreds, but their number was actually in dozens. It was not until the last one was down that Joe could make himself heard. The pushpots were jet motors in frames and metal skin, with built-in jato rocket tubes besides their engines.
Effie smiled a sad, superior smile. "Bobbie, you don't understand. I have my own views in the matter. Besides, there's something else. You have been exceedingly indelicate. You took advantage of my ignorance. You let me think you were a rose-beetle and yesterday the snail told me you are a tumble-bug. A considerable difference! He saw you engaged in well, doing something I don't care to mention.
Let the megalophonous grasshopper sound a blast and summon hither the perfunctory and circumforaneous Tumble-Bug, to the end that excavations may be made and learning gather new treasures." Not a Tumble-Bug could be found on duty, so the Mound was excavated by a working party of Ants. Nothing was discovered.
The top o' the mound which, wur above water wan't over half an acre in size, an' it wur as clur o' timmer as any other part o' the parairy, so that I could see every inch o' it, an' everythin' on it as big as a tumble-bug. "I reckin, strengers, that you'll hardly believe me when I tell you the concatenation o' varmints that wur then an' thur caucused together.
Which was all the attention that was paid to his suggestion. The conference ended with the naming the monster after the naturalist, since he, after God, had created it. "And improved it, mayhap," muttered the Tumble-Bug, who was intruding again, according to his idle custom and his unappeasable curiosity. A week later the expedition camped in the midst of a collection of wonderful curiosities.
The assembled wisdom sat in speechless adoration of this imperial intellect. All doubts had instantly departed, like night before the lightning. The Tumble-Bug had just intruded, unnoticed.
Your coolness is intolerable, too loafing about here meddling with august matters of learning, when the other laborers are pitching camp. Go along and help handle the baggage." The Tumble-Bug turned on his heel uncrushed, unabashed, observing to himself, "If it isn't land tilted up, let me die the death of the unrighteous."
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