Birt stood silent, vaguely wondering what his mother would think of
"bones." Presently the professor, seeing that the boy was not
likely to ask amusing questions, explained.

He informed Birt that in the neighborhood of salt licks--"saline
quagmires" he called them--were often found the remains of animals
of an extinct species, which are of great value to science. He gave
Birt the extremely long name of these animals, and descanted upon
such conditions of their existence as is known, much of which Birt
did not understand. Although this fact was very apparent, it did
not in the least affect the professor's ardor in the theme. He was
in the habit of talking of these things to boys who did not
understand, and alack! to boys who did not want to understand.

One point, however, he made very clear. With the hope of some such
"find," he was anxious to investigate this particular lick,--about
which indeed he had heard a vague tradition of a "big bone"
discovery, such as is common to similar localities in this region,--
and for this purpose he proposed to furnish the science and the
fifty cents per diem, and earnestly desired that some one else
should furnish the muscle.

He was accustomed to think much more rapidly than the men with whom
Birt was associated, and his briskness in arranging the matter had
an incongruous suggestion of the giddiness of youth. He said that
he would go home with Birt to fetch the spade, and while there he
could settle the terms with the boy's mother, and then they could
get to work.

He started off at a dapper gait up the deer-path, while Birt, with