Suddenly, with a howl of terror, the professor, who never seemed to
entertain the thought of letting go of the bird, was jerked from his
foothold by a sudden lurch of the ship.

Ben Stubbs was just in time. He sprang forward with wonderful agility
and seized the professor's long legs just as the man of science was
being pulled over the rail into space by the great albatross.

"Let go, dod gast you!" he bellowed, jerking the lasso out of the
professor's hands, while the albatross went flapping off, a long
streamer of rope hanging from its neck.

"I've lost my albatross," wailed the scientist.

"And blamed near lost yer own life," angrily exclaimed Ben. "Why
didn't you let go?"

"Why, then I'd have lost the bird," said the professor, simply. "But I
thank you for saving my life."

"Well, don't go doin' such fool things again," said Ben, angrily, for
he had feared that he would not be in time to save the bigoted
scientist's life.

The professor, however, was quite unruffled, and went about for some
hours lamenting the loss of the huge antarctic bird. He consoled
himself later, however, by shooting a beautiful little snow petrel,
which he stuffed and mounted and presented to Ben Stubbs, who was
quite mollified by the kind-hearted, if erratic, professor's gift.