“Are you sure that’s all, Andy?” asked the tall lad gravely.
“Sure--that’s all--agent just gave it to me--I was at the station when it came in--messenger boys all out--I said I’d take it to you--he gave me a dime--bought an ice cream soda--maybe it’s bad news--I don’t know--whoop!”
Andy was wiggling about like an uneasy snake, and he only had one foot on the ground at a time. Jerry looked at the telegram, saw that it was addressed to himself, and tore it open.
“Are you sure you’ve got all that out of your system?” inquired Ned of Andy.
“All of what?” asked the small, excited boy.
“All that talk. Because if you keep any in you might explode,” went on the merchant’s son.
“Better get another ice cream soda and cool off,” advised Bob, handing Andy a dime.
“I will--thanks--no bad news I hope--mine all safe--motorship not busted--I’ll cool down soon--go to the store--drug store--half a dozen flavors--I always take vanilla--lots of ice cream--here I go--whoop!” and down the street Andy started on the run.
“Thank goodness he’s gone,” murmured Ned with a sigh of relief. “He gets on my nerves. But what’s the news, Jerry?”
“Professor Snodgrass will arrive to-morrow,” replied the tall lad folding up the message. “He’s on the track of some new kind of bug or beast I suppose. He wants us to meet him at the station.”
“Good!” cried Bob. “Now we’ll have some more fun, and go off after a mosquito that plays the piano, or something like that, I suppose. Three cheers for Professor Snodgrass!”
“Say, you’re getting almost as bad as Andy Rush,” commented Jerry, as he once more started the machine, and steered it into the driveway of his home.
“What time will the professor get here?” asked Ned, as he and Bob sat on the broad porch of Mrs. Hopkins’s house.
“On the afternoon train, he says,” replied Jerry.
“And what sort of a bug is he after now?” demanded Bob.
“He doesn’t say. Not that it makes much difference. All is grist that comes to his mill, and if he can’t get an ant with pink legs, he’ll take a June bug with purple wings. But be on hand to meet him, fellows, and we’ll go down to the station together to-morrow afternoon.”
“Say, if he doesn’t get in until then we’ll have time in the morning to make a flight in the _Comet_,” suggested Bob.