d Old Crabtree, "and you tore down
my fence to git at a pesky bit of rock?"

"Rock to you, sir," responded the scientist calmly, "like the man in
the poem a 'primrose by the river's brim, a yellow primrose is to you,
and it is nothing more.'"

"Dad rot yer yaller primroses," yelled Old Crabtree, dancing about in
his rage. "You make good for tearing down my fence, d'ye hear me?"

"I shall take great pleasure in forwarding you a check for any damage
I may have done," said the professor.

"I want ther money now," said the farmer truculently.

"I regret that I have left my wallet at home," said the professor.
Then he brightened suddenly. "I can leave my bag of specimens with you
as security," he said, "if you will promise to be careful with them."

He unslung his bag and tendered it to the angry farmer who received it
with a look of amazement that the next moment turned to wrath when he
saw its contents.

"By hickory, what kind of a game is this?" he demanded. "Nothing but a
lot of old rocks. By heck, thar's enough here to build a new fence!"

He flung the bag down indignantly just as the professor darted forward
with one of his odd, swift movements. He shoved Old Crabtree back
without ceremony and bending swiftly to the spot where the angry
farmer had been standing he picked up and pocketed a small rock.

"Wa'al land o' Goshen," gasped out the farmer, bewildered. "What in
ther name of time is this?"

"A splendid specimen of gneiss," explained the professor triumphantly,
"and now, Mr.--er--you were saying?"

"That I wants ter be paid fer ther damage ter my fence."

"How much do you want?" asked Jack, coming to the rescue.

"Reckon a dollar'll be about right."

"If you will let me lend it to you till we reach your home, I'll be
very glad to pay him," said Jack aside to the professor.

"But, my dear young friend, there is no necessity. He has ample
security till I can send him a check. Why, that bag of specimens is
worth fifty dollars at least."

"Them old rocks," sniffed the farmer, who had overheard this last
remark, "I wouldn't give yer ten cents fer a cartload uv 'em. They're
too small fer fences an' too big to throw at cows."

"You'd better let me pay him," said Jack, and the professor finally
consented to this arrangement.

This done, they started back on the run to the professor's home, which
was about three miles off. On the way they dropped the red-faced
farmer and his hands, who clearly regarde