CHAPTER XI.
AFTER HORNED TOADS
Olivia and Rose, as had Nellie, warmly welcomed the boys and Professor Snodgrass, and, Mr. Seabury coming up a moment later, from his usual stroll about the garden, added his greetings.
“We’re very glad to see you,” said the gentleman. “Come right in and make yourselves comfortable. We have more room than we had on the houseboat Wanderer. I’ll have your baggage—where is that black rascal, Ponto?—Ponto!”
“Yais, sah, I’se coming,” called a voice, and Ponto who had gone back to the gate appeared, rubbing his eyes.
“Ponto, take these—why, you—you’ve been asleep again, I do believe—Ponto—”
“I—I done gone an’ jest dozed off fo’ a minute, Massa Seabury,” said Ponto. “I ’clar’ t’ goodness, dis am de most sleepiest climate I eber see. Peers laik I cain’t do nuffin, but shet mah eyes an’—”
“Well if you don’t do something mighty quick with this baggage I’ll find some way of keeping you awake,” spoke Mr. Seabury, but he was laughing in spite of himself.
“Yais, sah, I’se goin’ t’ take keer of it immejeet, sah,” and the colored man went off in search of a wheelbarrow, on which to bring the trunks and valises up to the house from where they had been put off the stage.
“I never saw such a chap,” said Mr. Seabury. “Before we came down here he was as spry as I could wish, but now he does just as the Mexicans do. He sleeps every chance he gets. But come on in. I know you must be tired and hungry.”
“Bob is,” said Jerry. “I heard him say a while ago—”
“No, you didn’t hear me say anything,” exclaimed Bob quickly, fearful lest he might be put to shame before the girls. “I’m not a bit hungry.”
“Fibber!” whispered Ned, though not so low but what they all heard, and the girls burst into laughter.
“Never mind,” spoke Olivia. “Come on, Bob. I’ll take care of you. The cook and I are great friends,” and the girl and Bob walked on ahead.
“I suppose you came out here to study some new kind of plant or flowers, didn’t you?” asked Mr. Seabury, of the professor.
“Not exactly,” replied the scientist, “though I shall examine them with much interest. What I came down for was to secure some specimens of horned toads for the museum. I—”
“Horned toads!” exclaimed Nellie, who was walking with Jerry, while Rose had volunteered to show Ned the beauties of the Mexican garden. “Horned toads! Ugh! The horrible things. I hope you don’t bring them around where I am, Professor. Horned toads! Why don’t you search after something beautiful, like the wonderful butterfly you found in Florida?”
“A horned toad is just as beautiful as a butterfly,” said Mr. Snodgrass gravely. “The only difference is, people don’t appreciate the toad. I do, and, some day, I hope to write a history of that creature. I have my notes ready for the first volume, which will be a sort of introduction.”
“How many volumes do you expect to write?” asked Mr. Seabury, curiously.
“Twelve,” replied the scientist calmly. “Even then I will have to omit much that is of interest. But I hope, in twelve, large books, to be able to convey some idea of horned toads, as well as some information about the other species.”
“Twelve volumes! I should hope so!” murmured Mr. Seabury.
By this time the travelers were at the bungalow. It was a well-arranged affair, quite large, and set in the midst of a beautiful garden, with rambling paths, and shady bowers, while the whole place was enclosed by a mud or adobe wall. All around the bungalow was a wide veranda, and in the center courtyard was a small fountain, with a jet of water spurting up from the middle of a large shell.
“Isn’t this fine!” exclaimed Jerry, and the other boys agreed it was.
“Yes, we like ‘The Next Day’ very much,” said Nellie. “It was my idea to call it that. From the very moment we arrived, and wanted something done, about the only answer we could get was ‘to-morrow,’ ‘Mananna’ or ‘the next day,’ so I decided that would be a good name for the bungalow.”
“Indeed it is,” declared the professor. “But you have a most delightful place, and I should like to spend many ‘next days’ here. I hope your health is better, Mr. Seabury?”
“Considerably so, sir. I find the air here agrees with my nerves and rheumatism much better than in Florida. I have hopes of entirely recovering. But let us go inside, I think luncheon is ready.”
It was and, in the cool dining-room, within sound of the tinkling fountain, they ate a hearty meal, Bob demonstrating in his usual fashion that he was quite hungry.
The girls took turns in explaining their experiences since coming to California. The bungalow, which they rented, was on the outskirts of the village of San Felicity, which was part of what had once been an old Mexican town. It was located on the shores of a secluded bay, and the bungalow was about ten minutes’ walk from the water.
“Do you think there are any horned toads around here?” asked the professor, when the meal was finished, and they had gone out on the veranda.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Mr. Seabury. “I’ll ask Ponto, he knows everything there is to be known about this place. Ponto! I say, Ponto!”
“Yais, sah, I’se comin’ sah!” and from somewhere in the depths of the garden the voice sounded. A moment later the colored man appeared, trying to hide a broad yawn.
“Ponto, do you know—well, I declare, if you haven’t been asleep again!”
“I—I—er—I jest was weedin’ de garden, Massa Seabury, an’ I done felt so warm dat I jest closed mah eyes, jest fo’ a second, not a minute longer, no sah, not a minute. Guess I knows better dan t’ go t’ sleep when yo’ got company sah!” and Ponto looked very much hurt at the accusation.
“Well, Ponto, I suppose you can’t help it. Do you happen to know where there are any horned toads?”
“Horned toads! Good lan’, Massa Seabury! No sah! I ain’t got none!”
“I didn’t suppose you had. Do you know whether there are any around here?”
“Well, I doan know ef dey has horns or not, but de oder day, when I were comin’ home from goin’ t’ ole Mexican Pete’s shanty after some red peppers, I seen some horrible kind of thing hoppin’ along ober de sand. I—I didn’t stop t’ look an’ see ef he had horns, but I s’pects he had, cause he were kind of diggin’ in de sand.”
“That’s the toad all right!” exclaimed the professor, joyfully. “Where is the place? Take me out there right away, Ponto.”
“Take you out dere, Perfesser?”
“Yes, right away.”
“I—I s’pects I’d better go back an’ ’tend t’ mah weedin’!” exclaimed Ponto, looking as pale as a colored man can look. “Weeds grow powerful fast in dis climate. Dey’ll choke de flowers in about an hour. I’se got t’ ’tend t’ ’em immejeet, sah. I ain’t got no time t’ go huntin’ horned toads. I hopes you’ll ’scuse me, sah,” and with that Ponto was gone, walking faster than he had at any time since the travelers arrived.
“He’s afraid,” said Rose, with a laugh. “I’m not. Come on, Professor, I’ll show you where Ponto means, and maybe we can find some horned toads.”
“Let’s all go,” proposed Jerry.
“I will, if you’ll promise not to let the horrible things come near me,” said Nellie, and Jerry promised.
Mr. Seabury declared he would rather rest on the veranda than hunt horned toads, so the three boys and the trio of girls, with the professor, who armed himself with specimen boxes and a small net, set off after the curious reptiles.
A short distance from the bungalow there was a sort of sandy stretch, where little grew in the way of vegetation, and there, Rose explained, was probably where Ponto had seen the toads. They headed toward it, the scientist eagerly looking on the ground, for a first sight of the specimens he had come so far to seek.