ike imitation shoe
buttons and synthetic doormats and Kennebunk sealskins.

"I will find a new material for lamp wicks," he said, "thus endearing
myself to posterity as well as saving the lives of the merchant marine."

So he tested all manner of strange stuff in a most scientific manner,
like coir and palm fibers and grapevines and corn silk. But it wasn't
any use. He couldn't get anything that would sop up oil and hold a light
for half a minute.

He was still cussing his luck and thinking hard things of science when
the Allo family showed up with a piece of news that made him forget all
the rest in a hurry. It seems they had located a flying frog in the
depths of the jungle somewhere.

* * * * *

Now few people have ever seen the flying frog of Borneo, and those who
have are called nasty names by those who haven't. It wears a skin web
between its fore and hind legs and is most rare. Andrew Harben was
grateful because here he saw his big chance for fame. He would pickle
the beast and write a book about it to make the university professors
and the magazine writers sit up. And maybe if the statements were tough
enough and somebody attacked him for a nature faker he might get the use
of half a dozen new letters to the hind end of his name.

So he went out with the Allo tribe once again and they led him up a
creek to the place where the flying frog lives. Sure enough there was a
frog; he saw it quite clear. He only had to hop across on a log and take
it in his little net. He hopped and the log turned under him, as was
likely it would, being no log at all but a most monstrous great
alligator. Andrew Harben went overboard, and the Bugis raised a yell.

"Ya--ya!" they said, meaning here's fun.

But Andrew Harben could dive as well as an alligator, which he did and
got away downstream. This was the first time he could be thankful about
his pants. They were now no bigger than a swimming suit, and he struck
out with great speed and finally reached shore below with the loss of
nothing but one shoe, which the alligator did not like.

* * * * *

Going back alone through the jungle, he lost his way and along toward
evening what should he do but stumble plump on the whole nest of Allos
where they lived. This was a place highly interesting to an investigator
and would have been even more so to the little gunboats of different
flags that police the sea. It was no