VI
Before I proceed any further, common decency requires me to reassuremy readers concerning my intentions, which, Heaven knows, are far fromflippant.
To separate fact from fancy has always been difficult for me, but nowthat I have had the honor to be chosen secretary of the ZoologicalGardens in Bronx Park, I realize keenly that unless I give up writingfiction nobody will believe what I write about science. Therefore itis to a serious and unimaginative public that I shall hereafteraddress myself; and I do it in the modest confidence that I shallneither be distrusted nor doubted, although unfortunately I stillwrite in that irrational style which suggests covert frivolity, andfor which I am undergoing a course of treatment in English literatureat Columbia College. Now, having promised to avoid originality andconfine myself to facts, I shall tell what I have to tell concerningthe dingue, the mammoth, and--something else.
For some weeks it had been rumored that Professor Farrago, presidentof the Bronx Park Zoological Society, would resign, to accept anenormous salary as manager of Barnum & Bailey's circus. He was nowwith the circus in London, and had promised to cable his decisionbefore the day was over.
I hoped he would decide to remain with us. I was his secretary andparticular favorite, and I viewed, without enthusiasm, the advent of anew president, who might shake us all out of our congenial andcarefully excavated ruts. However, it was plain that the trustees ofthe society expected the resignation of Professor Farrago, for theyhad been in secret session all day, considering the names of possiblecandidates to fill Professor Farrago's large, old-fashioned shoes.These preparations worried me, for I could scarcely expect anotherchief as kind and considerate as Professor Leonidas Farrago.
That afternoon in June I left my office in the Administration Buildingin Bronx Park and strolled out under the trees for a breath of air.But the heat of the sun soon drove me to seek shelter under a littlesquare arbor, a shady retreat covered with purple wistaria andhoneysuckle. As I entered the arbor I noticed that there were threeother people seated there--an elderly lady with masculine features andshort hair, a younger lady sitting beside her, and, farther away, arough-looking young man reading a book.
For a moment I had an indistinct impression of having met the elderlady somewhere, and under circumstances not entirely agreeable, butbeyond a stony and indifferent glance she paid no attention to me. Asfor the younger lady, she did not look at me at all. She was veryyoung, with pretty eyes, a mass of silky brown hair, and a skin asfresh as a rose which had just been rained on.
With that delicacy peculiar to lonely scientific bachelors, I modestlysat down beside the rough young man, although there was more roombeside the younger lady. "Some lazy loafer reading a penny dreadful,"I thought, glancing at him, then at the title of his book. Hearing mebeside him, he turned around and blinked over his shabby shoulder, andthe movement uncovered the page he had been silently conning. Thevolume in his hands was Darwin's famous monograph on the monodactyl.
He noticed the astonishment on my face and smiled uneasily, shiftingthe short clay pipe in his mouth.
"I guess," he observed, "that this here book is too much for me,mister."
"It's rather technical," I replied, smiling.
"Yes," he said, in vague admiration; "it's fierce, ain't it?"
After a silence I asked him if he would tell me why he had chosenDarwin as a literary pastime.
"Well," he said, placidly, "I was tryin' to read about annermals, butI'm up against a word-slinger this time all right. Now here's agum-twister," and he painfully spelled out m-o-n-o-d-a-c-t-y-l,breathing hard all the while.
"Monodactyl," I said, "means a single-toed creature."
He turned the page with alacrity. "Is that the beast he's talkin'about?" he asked.
The illustration he pointed out was a wood-cut representing Darwin'sreconstruction of the dingue from the fossil bones in the BritishMuseum. It was a well-executed wood-cut, showing a dingue in theforeground and, to give scale, a mammoth in the middle distance.
"Yes," I replied, "that is the dingue."
"I've seen one," he observed, calmly.
I smiled and explained that the dingue had been extinct for somethousands of years.
"Oh, I guess not," he replied, with cool optimism. Then he placed agrimy forefinger on the mammoth.
"I've seen them things, too," he remarked.
Again I patiently pointed out his error, and suggested that hereferred to the elephant.
"Elephant be blowed!" he replied, scornfully. "I guess I know what Iseen. An' I seen that there thing you call a dingue, too."
Not wishing to prolong a futile discussion, I remained silent. After amoment he wheeled around, removing his pipe from his hard mouth.
"Did you ever hear tell of Graham's Glacier?" he demanded.
"Certainly," I replied, astonished; "it's the southernmost glacier inBritish America."
"Right," he said. "And did you ever hear tell of the Hudson Mountings,mister?"
"Yes," I replied.
"What's behind 'em?" he snapped out.
"Nobody knows," I answered. "They are considered impassable."
"They ain't, though," he said, doggedly; "I've been behind 'em."
"Really!" I replied, tiring of his yarn.
"Ya-as, reely," he repeated, sullenly. Then he began to fumble andsearch through the pages of his book until he found what he wanted."Mister," he said, "jest read that out loud, please."
The passage he indicated was the famous chapter beginning:
"Is the mammoth extinct? Is the dingue extinct? Probably. And yet the aborigines of British America maintain the contrary. Probably both the mammoth and the dingue are extinct; but until expeditions have penetrated and explored not only the unknown region in Alaska but also that hidden table-land beyond the Graham Glacier and the Hudson Mountains, it will not be possible to definitely announce the total extinction of either the mammoth or the dingue."
When I had read it, slowly, for his benefit, he brought his hand downsmartly on one knee and nodded rapidly.
"Mister," he said, "that gent knows a thing or two, and don't youforgit it!" Then he demanded, abruptly, how I knew he hadn't beenbehind the Graham Glacier.
I explained.
"Shucks!" he said; "there's a road five miles wide inter that theretable-land. Mister, I ain't been in New York long; I come inter port aweek ago on the _Arctic Belle_, whaler. I was in the Hudson range whenthat there Graham Glacier bust up--"
"What!" I exclaimed.
"Didn't you know it?" he asked. "Well, mebbe it ain't in the papers,but it busted all right--blowed up by a earthquake an' volcanocombine. An', mister, it was oreful. My, how I did run!"
"Do you mean to tell me that some convulsion of the earth hasshattered the Graham Glacier?" I asked.
"Convulsions? Ya-as, an' fits, too," he said, sulkily. "The hull blamething dropped inter a hole. An' say, mister, home an' mother is goodenough fur me now."
I stared at him stupidly.
"Once," he said, "I ketched pelts fur them sharps at Hudson Bay, likeany yaller husky, but the things I seen arter that convulsion-fit--the_things I seen behind the Hudson Mountings_--don't make me hankerarter no life on the pe-rarie wild, lemme tell yer. I may be a MotherCarey chicken, but this chicken has got enough."
After a long silence I picked up his book again and pointed at thepicture of the mammoth.
"What color is it?" I asked.
"Kinder red an' brown," he answered, promptly. "It's woolly, too."
Astounded, I pointed to the dingue.
"One-toed," he said, quickly; "makes a noise like a bell whenscutterin' about."
Intensely excited, I laid my hand on his arm. "My society will giveyou a thousand dollars," I said, "if you pilot me inside the Hudsontable-land and show me either a mammoth or a dingue!"
He looked me calmly in the eye.
"Mister," he said, slowly, "have you got a million for to squander onme?"
"No,"
I said, suspiciously.
"Because," he went on, "it wouldn't be enough. Home an' mother suitsme now."
He picked up his book and rose. In vain I asked his name and address;in vain I begged him to dine with me--to become my honored guest.
"Nit," he said, shortly, and shambled off down the path.
But I was not going to lose him like that. I rose and deliberatelystarted to stalk him. It was easy. He shuffled along, pulling on hispipe, and I after him.
It was growing a little dark, although the sun still reddened the topsof the maples. Afraid of losing him in the falling dusk, I once moreapproached him and laid my hand upon his ragged sleeve.
"Look here," he cried, wheeling about, "I want you to quit follerin'me. Don't I tell you money can't make me go back to them mountings!"And as I attempted to speak, he suddenly tore off his cap and pointedto his head. His hair was white as snow.
"That's what come of monkeyin' inter your cursed mountings," heshouted, fiercely. "There's things in there what no Christian oughtersee. Lemme alone er I'll bust yer."
He shambled on, doubled fists swinging by his side. The next moment,setting my teeth obstinately, I followed him and caught him by thepark gate. At my hail he whirled around with a snarl, but I grabbedhim by the throat and backed him violently against the park wall.
"You invaluable ruffian," I said, "now you listen to me. I live inthat big stone building, and I'll give you a thousand dollars to takeme behind the Graham Glacier. Think it over and call on me when youare in a pleasanter frame of mind. If you don't come by noon to-morrowI'll go to the Graham Glacier without you."
He was attempting to kick me all the time, but I managed to avoid him,and when I had finished I gave him a shove which almost loosened hisspinal column. He went reeling out across the sidewalk, and when hehad recovered his breath and his balance he danced with displeasureand displayed a vocabulary that astonished me. However, he kept hisdistance.
As I turned back into the park, satisfied that he would not follow,the first person I saw was the elderly, stony-faced lady of thewistaria arbor advancing on tiptoe. Behind her came the younger ladywith cheeks like a rose that had been rained on.
Instantly it occurred to me that they had followed us, and at the samemoment I knew who the stony-faced lady was. Angry, but polite, Ilifted my hat and saluted her, and she, probably furious at havingbeen caught tip-toeing after me, cut me dead. The younger lady passedme with face averted, but even in the dusk I could see the tip of onelittle ear turn scarlet.
Walking on hurriedly, I entered the Administration Building, and foundProfessor Lesard, of the reptilian department, preparing to leave.
"Don't you do it," I said, sharply; "I've got exciting news."
"I'm only going to the theatre," he replied. "It's a good show--Adamand Eve; there's a snake in it, you know. It's in my line."
"I can't help it," I said; and I told him briefly what had occurred inthe arbor.
"But that's not all," I continued, savagely. "Those women followed us,and who do you think one of them turned out to be? Well, it wasProfessor Smawl, of Barnard College, and I'll bet every pair of bootsI own that she starts for the Graham Glacier within a week. Idiot thatI was!" I exclaimed, smiting my head with both hands. "I neverrecognized her until I saw her tip-toeing and craning her neck tolisten. Now she knows about the glacier; she heard every word thatyoung ruffian said, and she'll go to the glacier if it's only toforestall me."
Professor Lesard looked anxious. He knew that Miss Smawl, professor ofnatural history at Barnard College, had long desired an appointmentat the Bronx Park gardens. It was even said she had a chance ofsucceeding Professor Farrago as president, but that, of course, musthave been a joke. However, she haunted the gardens, annoying thekeepers by persistently poking the animals with her umbrella. On oneoccasion she sent us word that she desired to enter the tigers'enclosure for the purpose of making experiments in hypnotism.Professor Farrago was absent, but I took it upon myself to send backword that I feared the tigers might injure her. The miserable smallboy who took my message informed her that I was afraid she mightinjure the tigers, and the unpleasant incident almost cost me myposition.
"I am quite convinced," said I to Professor Lesard, "that Miss Smawlis perfectly capable of abusing the information she overheard, and ofstarting 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 whetheryou can go at all."
"Professor Farrago will authorize me," I said, confidently.
"Professor Farrago has resigned," said Lesard. It was a bolt from aclear sky.
"Good Heavens!" I blurted out. "What will become of the rest of us,then?"
"I don't know," he replied. "The trustees are holding a meeting overin the Administration Building to elect a new president for us. Itdepends on the new president what becomes of us."
"Lesard," I said, hoarsely, "you don't suppose that they couldpossibly 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 tigerbusiness," he replied.
"But I didn't do it," I protested, with sickly eagerness. "Besides, Iexplained to her--"
He said nothing, and I stared at him, appalled by the possibility ofreporting to Professor Smawl for instructions next morning.
"See here, Lesard," I said, nervously, "I wish you would step over tothe Administration Building and ask the trustees if I may prepare forthis expedition. Will you?"
He glanced at me sympathetically. It was quite natural for me to wishto secure my position before the new president was elected--especiallyas there was a chance of the new president being Miss Smawl.
"You are quite right," he said; "the Graham Glacier would be thesafest place for you if our next president is to be the Lady of theTigers." And he started across the park puffing his cigar.
I sat down on the doorstep to wait for his return, not at all charmedwith the prospect. It made me furious, too, to see my ambition nippedwith the frost of a possible veto from Miss Smawl.
"If she is elected," thought I, "there is nothing for me but toresign--to avoid the inconvenience of being shown the door. Oh, I wishI had allowed her to hypnotize the tigers!"
Thoughts of crime flitted through my mind. Miss Smawl would not remainpresident--or anything else very long--if she persisted in her desirefor the tigers. And then when she called for help I would pretend notto hear.
Aroused from criminal meditation by the return of Professor Lesard, Ijumped up and peered into his perplexed eyes. "They've elected apresident," he said, "but they won't tell us who the president isuntil to-morrow."
"You don't think--" I stammered.
"I don't know. But I know this: the new president sanctions theexpedition to the Graham Glacier, and directs you to choose anassistant and begin preparations for four people."
Overjoyed, I seized his hand and said, "Hurray!" in a voice weak withemotion. "The old dragon isn't elected this time," I added,triumphantly.
"By-the-way," he said, "who was the other dragon with her in the parkthis evening?"
I described her in a more modulated voice.
"Whew!" observed Professor Lesard, "that must be her assistant,Professor Dorothy Van Twiller! She's the prettiest blue-stocking intown."
With this curious remark my confrere followed me into my room andwrote down the list of articles I dictated to him. The list included acomplete camping equipment for myself and three other men.
"Am I one of those other men?" inquired Lesard, with an unhappy smile.
Before I could reply my door was shoved open and a figure appeared atthe threshold, cap in hand.
"What do you want?" I asked, sternly; but my heart was beating highwith triumph.
The figure shuffled; then came a subdued voice:
"Mist
er, I guess I'll go back to the Graham Glacier along with you.I'm Billy Spike, an' it kinder scares me to go back to them HudsonMountains, but somehow, mister, when you choked me and kinder walkedme off on my ear, why, mister, I kinder took to you like."
There was absolute silence for a minute; then he said:
"So if you go, I guess I'll go, too, mister."
"For a thousand dollars?"
"Fur nawthin'," he muttered--"or what you like."
"All right, Billy," I said, briskly; "just look over those rifles andammunition and see that everything's sound."
He slowly lifted his tough young face and gave me a doglike glance.They were hard eyes, but there was gratitude in them.
"You'll get your throat slit," whispered Lesard.
"Not while Billy's with me," I replied, cheerfully.
Late that night, as I was preparing for pleasant dreams, a knock cameon my door and a telegraph-messenger handed me a note, which I read,shivering in my bare feet, although the thermometer marked eightyFahrenheit:
"You will immediately leave for the Hudson Mountains via Wellman Bay, Labrador, there to await further instructions. Equipment for yourself and one assistant will include following articles" [here began a list of camping utensils, scientific paraphernalia, and provisions]. "The steamer _Penguin_ sails at five o'clock to-morrow morning. Kindly find yourself on board at that hour. Any excuse for not complying with these orders will be accepted as your resignation.
"SUSAN SMAWL, "President Bronx Zoological Society."
"Lesard!" I shouted, trembling with fury.
He appeared at his door, chastely draped in pajamas; and he read theinsolent letter with terrified alacrity.
"What are you going to do--resign?" he asked, much frightened.
"Do!" I snarled, grinding my teeth; "I'm going--that's what I'm goingto do!"
"But--but you can't get ready and catch that steamer, too," hestammered.
He did not know me.