He
laughed heartily, and said, "Why, sir, those plucked birds are landrails,
not quails, and those bones are landrail bones. Look at this thigh-bone;
was there ever a quail with such a bone as that?"
I cannot say whether or no Professor Panky was really deceived by the
sweet effrontery with which my father proffered him the bone. If he was
taken in, his answer was dictated simply by a donnish unwillingness to
allow any one to be better informed on any subject than he was himself.
My father, when I suggested this to him, would not hear of it. "Oh no,"
he said; "the man knew well enough that I was lying." However this may
be, the Professor's manner changed.
"You are right," he said, "I thought they were landrail bones, but was
not sure till I had one in my hand. I see, too, that the plucked birds
are landrails, but there is little light, and I have not often seen them
without their feathers."
"I think," said my father to me, "that Hanky knew what his friend meant,
for he said, 'Panky, I am very hungry.'"
"Oh, Hanky, Hanky," said the other, modulating his harsh voice till it
was quite pleasant. "Don't corrupt the poor man."
"Panky, drop that; we are not at Bridgeford now; I am very hungry, and I
believe half those birds are not quails but landrails."
My father saw he was safe.
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