THE BUTTERFLY COLLECTOR

The dinner passed off without the odd little professor showing up, although Sallie said it was nothing unusual for him, and that he was liable to appear at any time, carrying his little white hand-net, and a small handbag in which he claimed to keep the trophies of the chase that had been run down during his last campaign.

Frank wanted to get a chance to confer with his chum, and as soon as he could conveniently withdraw from the table, giving Andy a nod, he went out on the porch where he could look down the lane that led to the poor road, which in turn, after many trials and tribulations merged into the main pike.

Andy joined him there a minute later, with a question in his eye.

"Professor Whitesides!" was what Frank remarked.

"And a butterfly collector at that!" Andy went on to say, with cutting sarcasm.

"That sounds pretty rich, to me," his cousin continued. "I wonder, now, could it be possible that the other man we've heard of lately, Casper Blue, is playing a smart trick on these honest people, who would never dream that he could be anything else than he claimed."

"It would give him a splendid chance to wander around just whenever and wherever he wanted to go, and nobody to ask questions. Then, when he got hungry, why, he could drop in at the farm. Perhaps he don't like camping out as well as the other fellow; perhaps his health is too delicate to stand roughing it. Or he might have any one of a dozen other reasons for carrying on this way; always providing that this is Casper Blue."

Andy was brimful of excitement. His manner would forcibly remind one of the nervous tension that seizes upon the hounds when the scent grows strong, and they anticipate coming in sight of their quarry at any moment.

"We're taking a good deal for granted, seems to me," remarked Frank.

"Of course, but then see how queer it is that this man who calls himself a college professor, and collector of bugs and butterflies, should just happen to drop in here at the Hoskins farm, where the thistles grow so wild, and the moths and other things are to be found by thousands. We never heard of him in town, that I can remember. And then he's small in size; together with a stiff arm, that was injured in an accident; well, wasn't Casper Blue knocked out of his job as an air pilot by his arm failing him when he had to handle the levers like a flash, or have his aeroplane turn upside-down, Frank? I tell you I just feel dead sure it's our man, and that we've found the clue we want the first thing."

"Well, if we could manage to get a peep into his room perhaps we would run across something worth while?" Frank suggested.

"We might pretend to be deeply interested in butterflies ourselves," remarked Andy, "even if we don't really know one kind from another; and perhaps, if you gave Sallie a sly hint that you'd be tickled to see what sort of a collection her professor has with him, she'd let us look in his room."

"We'll make the try, anyhow," said Frank, firmly.

"But think of this Casper Blue being able to carry out the part of a learned professor, would you? That is something most yeggmen would find a pretty hard proposition, don't you say, Frank?"

"Well, stop and think a little, Andy," was the other's reply to this. "From all accounts this man isn't just a common, everyday hobo. He used to be known as something of an aviator before he met with that accident that disabled his arm, and made it impossible for him to go up again. And the fact is, I seem to remember having seen that name mentioned among a list of airmen who had been either killed, or knocked out by accidents happening to them."

"That's all right, Frank, but it takes a pretty smart man to carry out a part like he's doing."

"Didn't Larry tell us that this same Casper Blue had once been an actor before he took to the air for a living?" asked Frank.

"You're right, he did that same thing, but somehow it seemed to have slipped my mind. But you never forget a single thing, do you, Frank? And if he used to be an actor, why, of course Casper would find it easy to play this part. Perhaps he's just enjoying it the best you ever heard of. Some people are never happy unless they're hoodwinking others."

"Let's go back and find Sallie, and get to talking about butterflies and gypsy moths, and all sorts of things in that line we can think of," suggested Frank. "Then she'll believe we're head over ears interested in what her boarder is doing, and if I give her a little hint she may ask us to step in and take a peek at his room. Of course we mightn't pick up anything worth while there; and then again there's always a little chance we could."

"It's worth while, I think," declared Andy, who seldom disagreed with any proposition his cousin advanced, simply because Frank was usually so wise that he succeeded in covering the whole ground the very first thing.

So they once more left the porch, though both boys looked down the lane before going in, to make sure that the queer little butterfly collector was not coming in time to interfere with their immediate plans.

Sallie was just tidying up the diningroom when they found her. The good woman of the house seemed to have gone into the kitchen, where she was preserving some sort of fruit, or making catsup, to judge from the fragrant odors that came floating out from that part of the farmhouse.

Naturally Sallie was only too willing to enter into conversation again with two such attractive looking and bright boys as Frank and Andy Bird. She must have been aware of the fact that they were favorites among the girls of Bloomsbury; and of course also knew something about their being aviators, although both or 'them had shunned that subject carefully while at the dinner table.

And so Frank managed to gradually steer the conversation around to the subject of bug collection. He told of a friend he once had who was "daffy" along that line, and would rather capture some queer looking old night-flying hairy moth, with a death's-head sign on his front, than enjoy the finest supper, or listen to the best play.

That allowed Andy to venture the suggestion that he had taken considerable interest in butterflies himself, and always wanted to see a collection that was worth while. Of course he did not have to explain that the only interest he ever did have in the matter was when, as a very small boy, he used to chase after the fluttering insects as they went from flower to flower, until shown by his mother how cruel it was to destroy the life of such wonderfully beautiful things, that he could not restore again.

Sallie took the bait, Andy knew from the eager light that flashed upon her face. And when he saw her step over to a window, and look quickly down the lane, he turned to his cousin, and made a grimace as much as to say, "See how she fell to my little game, will you, old fellow?"

"Well," said Sallie, flitting back again, "Professor Whitesides hasn't got a very large collection; and the new specimens he gathers day after day he kept in some place, because he has no time just now to do anything with them, he says; but come up with me, and I'll show you the little case he brought with him."

"Sure we will, and I'm glad of the chance to see what valuable butterflies look like," Andy went on to remark.

"He says this little collection is a very rare one, and worth an awfully large sum of money," Sallie went on to remark, in something of a confidential tone, as if getting the boys ready to be surprised when they looked upon the possessions of the industrious professor. "And oh! if you could only hear all the queer things he's been telling us that happened to him in foreign lands, when he was spending ever so much money, and long weary months, finding these very rare specimens. Why, I just stand there, and look at them, and wonder how people can be so foolish, when it seems to me I've seen much prettier butterflies right out there in our fields where the thistles are blooming."

It seemed that the room they had given the wonderful man of science was on the ground floor, and opened off the parlor.

The two boys followed Sallie in, and noted her rather awed manner 5 evidently the professor, whether he turned out to be a fraud or the genuine article, had succeeded in arousing both her admiration and wonder.

The room was plainly yet comfortably furnished, but evidently the professor, like so many other learned savants, did not know such a thing as "order" existed, for things were simply topsy-turvy.

"He just won't let us sweep in here, or do the least thing," explained Sallie, as if she feared the boys would blame her for the looks of the room, "you know, he's so queer, and he says we might lose something that he valued very highly, thinking it was not worth keeping. But here's the little case containing those almost priceless specimens he collected abroad."

She led them to a table on which a small case rested, leaning against the wall. Frank took one look. Apparently the sight affected him strangely, for immediately he bent over closer as though to feast his eyes on those costly trophies which the college professor had collected in foreign lands.

Andy saw that his cousin was evidently having some sort of a silent laughing fit, for he shook all over though not uttering a single sound.

"What ails you, Frank?" he whispered, taking advantage of Sallie having to hurry out of the room, as her mother's voice was heard calling her in the kitchen.

"I'm tickled to death to meet an old friend again, that's all," replied Frank.

"Do you mean to tell me you've seen this wonderful collection before?" demanded the other, like a flash, as it were.

"I most certainly do; and if you stop to think, Andy, I guess you'll say the same; or perhaps, now, you didn't happen to examine the case as closely as I did, that day last spring when we crossed over to Cranford, to pick up a few rare stamps for our collection at Snyder's old curio store."

"Why, bless me, I really believe you're right; I seem to remember seeing it in the show window, now, when we were looking at the little baskets of coins," Andy hastened to remark.

"There isn't the least shadow of a doubt about it," added Frank. "Some time or other, when the notion came to this man to play the part of a butterfly collector, which perhaps the sight of the things brought to his mind, he just stepped into Snyder's store, and bought the old collection. Why, it hasn't got a single specimen that you can't find a thousand of, any day you look, through August and September."

"Right around here, you mean, Frank?"

"Right on this farm, in fact," replied the other, with a wide grin. "Think of the nerve of this learned scientist bringing this here, and telling that it represented the results of years of difficult research? You don't wonder, now, that I just had to snicker, do you, Andy?"