In Search of the Unknown | Page 3

this time. I asked him why on earth he
credited the assertion of a man he had never before heard of.
"I suppose," he replied, with the same half-apologetic, half-humorous
smile, "it is instinct. I feel, somehow, that this man Halyard has got an
auk--perhaps two. I can't get away from the idea that we are on the eve
of acquiring the rarest of living creatures. It's odd for a scientist to talk
as I do; doubtless you're shocked--admit it, now!"
But I was not shocked; on the contrary, I was conscious that the same
strange hope that Professor Farrago cherished was beginning, in spite
of me, to stir my pulses, too.
"If he has--" I began, then stopped.
The professor and I looked hard at each other in silence.
"Go on," he said, encouragingly.

But I had nothing more to say, for the prospect of beholding with my
own eyes a living specimen of the great auk produced a series of
conflicting emotions within me which rendered speech profanely
superfluous.
As I took my leave Professor Farrago came to the door of the
temporary, wooden office and handed me the letter written by the man
Halyard. I folded it and put it into my pocket, as Halyard might require
it for my own identification.
"How much does he want for the pair?" I asked.
"Ten thousand dollars. Don't demur--if the birds are really--"
"I know," I said, hastily, not daring to hope too much.
"One thing more," said Professor Farrago, gravely; "you know, in that
last paragraph of his letter, Halyard speaks of something else in the way
of specimens--an undiscovered species of amphibious biped--just read
that paragraph again, will you?"
I drew the letter from my pocket and read as he directed:
"When you have seen the two living specimens of the great auk, and
have satisfied yourself that I tell the truth, you may be wise enough to
listen without prejudice to a statement I shall make concerning the
existence of the strangest creature ever fashioned. I will merely say, at
this time, that the creature referred to is an amphibious biped and
inhabits the ocean near this coast. More I cannot say, for I personally
have not seen the animal, but I have a witness who has, and there are
many who affirm that they have seen the creature. You will naturally
say that my statement amounts to nothing; but when your
representative arrives, if he be free from prejudice, I expect his reports
to you concerning this sea-biped will confirm the solemn statements of
a witness I know to be unimpeachable.
"Yours truly, BURTON HALYARD.

"BLACK HARBOR."
"Well," I said, after a moment's thought, "here goes for the wild-goose
chase."
"Wild auk, you mean," said Professor Farrago, shaking hands with me.
"You will start to-night, won't you?"
"Yes, but Heaven knows how I'm ever going to land in this man
Halyard's door-yard. Good-bye!"
"About that sea-biped--" began Professor Farrago, shyly.
"Oh, don't!" I said; "I can swallow the auks, feathers and claws, but if
this fellow Halyard is hinting he's seen an amphibious creature
resembling a man--"
"--Or a woman," said the professor, cautiously.
I retired, disgusted, my faith shaken in the mental vigor of Professor
Farrago.

II
The three days' voyage by boat and rail was irksome. I bought my kit at
Sainte Croix, on the Central Pacific Railroad, and on June 1st I began
the last stage of my journey via the Sainte Isole broad-gauge, arriving
in the wilderness by daylight. A tedious forced march by blazed trail,
freshly spotted on the wrong side, of course, brought me to the northern
terminus of the rusty, narrow-gauge lumber railway which runs from
the heart of the hushed pine wilderness to the sea.
Already a long train of battered flat-cars, piled with sluice-props and
roughly hewn sleepers, was moving slowly off into the brooding forest
gloom, when I came in sight of the track; but I developed a gratifying
and unexpected burst of speed, shouting all the while. The train stopped;
I swung myself aboard the last car, where a pleasant young fellow was

sitting on the rear brake, chewing spruce and reading a letter.
"Come aboard, sir," he said, looking up with a smile; "I guess you're
the man in a hurry."
"I'm looking for a man named Halyard," I said, dropping rifle and
knapsack on the fresh-cut, fragrant pile of pine. "Are you Halyard?"
"No, I'm Francis Lee, bossing the mica pit at Port-of-Waves," he
replied, "but this letter is from Halyard, asking me to look out for a man
in a hurry from Bronx Park, New York."
"I'm that man," said I, filling my pipe and offering him a share of the
weed of peace, and we sat side by side smoking very amiably,