CHAPTER XXVII
WOES OF A NATURALIST
Sid Henderson was of a very hopeful disposition, otherwise he neverwould have undertaken to get a picture of that fox after it had oncebeen alarmed. But he fancied he could trail it to its burrow, and hewanted very much to get a photograph of the animal in its homesurroundings.
So, unmindful of the desertion of his chums, he plunged on into theswamp. The footing became more and more treacherous as he advanced, andhe had to go slowly, looking here and there for grass hummocks tosupport him. His camera, too, was a handicap.
"But I'm going to get that fox!" he exclaimed. "I just need a picturelike that. Besides, I may find in this swamp some material I can use inmy biological experiments."
On he went, leaping from hummock to hummock. Once he nearly slipped andbarely saved himself from falling into a slough of black water.
"I wonder how deep that is?" he remarked, and taking a dead branch hethrust it straight down. He found that the hole was deeper than he hadanticipated.
Keeping a sharp lookout for the animal he was after, he was at lengthrewarded by a sight of it slinking along through the bushes. He startedforward eagerly, so eagerly, in fact, that he did not pick his steps. Amoment later he slipped from a grass hummock and went into the muddybog, up to his waist.
"Wow! Whoop! Help! Here, fellows! Come here and help me! Bring a fencerail!" he called, for he felt himself sinking down deeper and deeper.
Tom and Phil heard his cries, but thought he was only calling to them tocome and see some natural curiosity or view the fox, so they did notrespond. Sid called again and again, but got no answer. Then he tried toscramble from the bog, and found it hard work, for he had to hold hiscamera high up that it might not get wet.
At last he managed to free his legs from the sticky mud and reached acomparatively firm place. But what a plight he was in! Plastered withswamp-ooze to his waist, he looked like some sewer laborer. Though hedid not know it, his face was spotted with globules of mud, splashed upin his struggles to get from the bog.
"Well, I certainly am in bad," he remarked to himself. "Lucky I put onold clothes. I can't get much worse, that's one satisfaction. I mightas well keep on. Maybe I can get that fox now."
So he continued through the swamp. His speed was better, for he nolonger paused to pick his steps, but splashed on, careless of the mudand water. The fever of the chase was in his veins, and another glimpseof the fox convinced him that the animal was heading for its burrow. Atlast, after a tramp of a mile, Sid was successful, and, in the fastfading light of the fall day, he snapped the creature, just as it wasentering the hole, when it turned for a final look at its tirelesspursuer.
"Well, it was worth it all," sighed the naturalist as he closed up hiscamera and started for home. "Now I wonder where Phil and Tom are."
Remembering that they had called to him that they would wait out on theroad, he took that highway back to college. On the way he found severalspecimens which he needed in his evolution work, and in thinking aboutthem, and his success in photographing the fox, he forgot about theplight he was in. He did not meet his chums, of course, and it was duskwhen he got back to college. The mud had dried somewhat on his trousersand shoes, and, incidentally, on his face and hands, for he had,unconsciously, run his hands over his countenance once or twice, so thatthe mud globules had increased in surface area.
It was a very strange and somewhat disreputable figure that entered thewest dormitory a little later and started up the stairs, but Sid did notknow that, having no looking glass at hand.
Now it so happened that Professor Tines was just leaving the dormitory.He had called to see one of his pupils who was ill--a "greasy dig"student--to use the college vernacular to designate a lad who burnedmidnight oil over his studies. The professor having finished his callcame upon Sid in the corridor. The instructor saw before him a youngman, mud covered, carrying a square, black box, and the countenance,spotted with specimens of swamp muck, was unfamiliar to him. ProfessorTines at once suspected a student trick.
"Here! Where are you going?" he cried, blocking the way of Sid.
"To my room," answered the luckless naturalist, who, of course, notappreciating that he was most effectually disguised, thought that theLatin teacher had recognized him.
"Your room! What do you mean by such nonsense? What student put you upto this joke? Tell me, and I will have him punished at once. How dareyou come in here?"
"Why, I--I belong here, Professor Tines," said Sid.
"Belong here? You work on the coal trestle! Don't tell me! You arecovered with coal dust now! What have you there? Are you going to playsome trick at the instigation of the freshmen? I demand an answer!"
"I'm Henderson," went on Sid desperately. "I room here--with PhilClinton and Tom Parsons."
"How dare you trifle with me in this fashion?" demanded the irate Latininstructor. "I shall call the proctor and have you arrested!" and he wasso much in earnest that Sid, beginning to appreciate the state he wasin, determined to prove absolutely that he was himself.
"Professor Tines," he said, "you can knock on that door there, and askClinton and Parsons if I'm not Henderson. I've been out after a fox, andI fell in the bog."
"Ha!" cried the professor. "I see it now. You are trying to play a jokeon me, with the aid of Clinton and Parsons. But you shall all threesuffer for it! I _will_ knock on that door. I _will_ confront yourfellow conspirators with the evidence of their silly act. Come here,"and he placed his hand on Phil's shoulder and led him toward the room ofthe three chums. "You shall not trifle with me!" he added fiercely.
Holding Sid firmly by the shoulder with one hand, Professor Tines withthe other knocked loudly at the portal. Phil and Tom were within, andthe latter quickly opened the door, for the summons was imperative. Thetwo chums in the room started back at the sight of the instructorhaving in custody the mud-covered figure.
"Young gentlemen," began the professor sternly, "this--this personasserts that he is Henderson, and that he rooms here. I caught him inthe corridor, and at once detected the joke he was about to play. Heappealed to me to bring him here for identification. Have you threeconspired to play a trick on me? Is this Henderson or is it not?"
Tom and Phil stared at the disreputable figure. They knew at once thatit was their chum, but the spirit of mischief entered into Tom. Henudged Phil, and then answered promptly:
"Certainly not, Professor Tines. We don't know the person!"
Then he shut the door, while, with a cry of rage at the desertion of hisfriends, Sid tried to break away from the Latin teacher.
A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football Page 27