"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.
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