Part 12 (1/2)

”Yes,” said I, solemnly, ”you and I, my child, are face to face with the fabled dingue--_Dingus solitarius_! Let us continue to gaze at it, reverently, prayerfully, humbly--”

Dorothy yawned--probably with excitement.

We were still mutely adoring the dingue when Professor Smawl burst into the tent at a hand-gallop, bawling hoa.r.s.ely 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? Rubbis.h.!.+”

”Madam,” I said, firmly, ”it is a dingue! It's a monodactyl! See! It has but a single toe!”

”Bos.h.!.+” she retorted; ”it's got four!”

”Four!” I repeated, blankly.

”Yes; one on each foot!”

”Of course,” I said; ”you didn't suppose a monodactyl meant a beast with one leg and one toe!”

But she laughed hatefully and declared it was a woodchuck.

We squabbled for a while until I saw the significance of her att.i.tude.

The unfortunate woman wished to find a dingue first and be accredited with the discovery.

I lifted the dingue in both hands and shook the creature gently, until the chiming ding-dong of its protestations filled our ears like sweet bells jangled out of tune.

Pale with rage at this final proof of the dingue's ident.i.ty, she seized her camera and note-book.

”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.

And now, at last, the tragic shadow falls over my paper as I write. I was never pa.s.sionately attached to Professor Smawl, yet I would gladly refrain from chronicling the episode that must follow if, as I have hitherto attempted, I succeed in sticking to the unornamented truth.

I have said that neither Dorothy nor I believed her. I don't know why, unless it was that we had not yet made up our minds to believe that the mammoth still existed on earth. So, when Professor Smawl disappeared in the forest, scuttling through the underbrush like a demoralized hen, we viewed her flight with unconcern. There was a large tree in the neighborhood--a pleasant shelter in case of rain. So we sat down behind it, although the sun was s.h.i.+ning fiercely.

It was one of those peaceful afternoons in the wilderness when the whole forest dreams, and the shadows are asleep and every little leaflet takes a nap. Under the still tree-tops the dappled sunlight, motionless, soaked the sod; the forest-flies no longer whirled in circles, but sat sunning their wings on slender twig-tips.

The heat was sweet and spicy; the sun drew out the delicate essence of gum and sap, warming volatile juices until they exhaled through the aromatic bark.

The sun went down into the wilderness; the forest stirred in its sleep; a fish splashed in the lake. The spell was broken. Presently the wind began to rise somewhere far away in the unknown land. I heard it coming, nearer, nearer--a brisk wind that grew heavier and blew harder as it neared us--a gale that swept distant branches--a furious gale that set limbs clas.h.i.+ng and cracking, nearer and nearer. Crack!

and the gale grew to a hurricane, trampling trees like dead twigs!

Crack! Crackle! Cras.h.!.+ Cras.h.!.+

_Was it the wind?_