The professor paused for a minute, to let his words take full effect, then even more positively proceeded: “You may say, what I have had others offer by way of solution, that all is drained into a mighty inland sea or enormous lake. Granting so much, which I really believe to be the truth as far as it goes, why does that lake never overflow? Of all that surely must drain into its basin, be that enormously wide and deep as it may, how much could ordinary evaporation dispose of? Only an infinitesimal portion; scarcely worth mentioning in such connection. Then,--what becomes of the surplusage?” Another pause, during which neither Gillespie ventured a solution; then the professor offered his own suggestion: “It must flow off in some manner, and what other manner can that be than--through a subterranean connection with the Pacific Ocean?” Bruno gave a short ejaculation at this, while Waldo broke forth in words, after his own particular fashion: “Jules Verne redivivus! Why can't WE take a trip through the centre of the earth, or--or--any other little old thing like that?” “With the tank of compressed air as a life-preserver?” laughed Bruno, in turn. “That might serve, but; unfortunately, we have only the one, and we are three in number, boy.” “Only two, now; I'm squelched!” sighed the jester, faintly. If the professor heard, he heeded not. Still staring with vacant gaze into the fire, his face bearing a rapt expression curious to see, he broke into almost unconscious speech: “An enormous inland sea! Where float the mighty ichthyosaurus, the megalosaurus, in company with the gigantic plesiosaurus! Upon whose sloping shores disport the enormous mastodon, the stately megatherium, the tremendous--eh?” For Waldo was now afoot, brandishing a great branch broken from a dead tree, uttering valiant war-whoops, and dealing tremendous blows upon an imaginary enemy, spouting at the top of his voice a frenzied jargon, which neither his auditors nor himself could possibly make sense out of. Bruno, ever sensitive through his affectionate reverence for their uncle, caught the youngster, and cast him to earth, whereupon Waldo pantingly cried: “Go on, please, uncle Phaeton. It's next thing to a museum and menagerie combined, just to hear--” “Will you hush, boy?” demanded Bruno, yet unable to wholly smother a laugh, so ridiculous did it all sound and seem. But Professor Featherwit declined, his foxy face wrinkling in a bashful laugh. Whether so intended or not, he had been brought down to earth from that dizzy flight, and now was fairly himself again. “Well, my dear boys, I dare say it seems all a matter of jest and sport to you; yet, after our riding in the centre of a tornado for uncounted miles, coming forth with hardly a scratch or a bruise to show for it all, who dare say such things may not be, even yet?” “But,--those strange creatures are gone; the last one perished thousands upon thousands of years ago, uncle Phaeton.”