But, good land!
what did he want to sass back for? You see, it couldn't do him no good,
and it was just nuts for them. They HAD him, you know. But that was his
way. I reckon he couldn't help it; he was made so, I judge. He was a good
enough sort of cretur, and hadn't no harm in him, and was just a genius,
as the papers said, which wasn't his fault. We can't all be sound: we've
got to be the way we're made. As near as I can make out, geniuses think
they know it all, and so they won't take people's advice, but always go
their own way, which makes everybody forsake them and despise them, and
that is perfectly natural. If they was humbler, and listened and tried to
learn, it would be better for them.
The part the professor was in was like a boat, and was big and roomy, and
had water-tight lockers around the inside to keep all sorts of things in,
and a body could sit on them, and make beds on them, too. We went aboard,
and there was twenty people there, snooping around and examining, and old
Nat Parsons was there, too. The professor kept fussing around getting
ready, and the people went ashore, drifting out one at a time, and old
Nat he was the last. Of course it wouldn't do to let him go out behind
US. We mustn't budge till he was gone, so we could be last ourselves.
But he was gone now, so it was time for us to follow. I heard a big
shout, and turned around--the city was dropping from under us like a
shot! It made me sick all through, I was so scared.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26