I know of no other
way for you to explore this region, as all our available resources at
Bronx Park have already been spent in painting appropriate scenery to
line the cages of the mammalia, and also in the present exceedingly
expensive expedition in search of the polka-dotted boom-bock, which is
supposed to inhabit the jungle beyond Lake Niggerplug.
My most solemn and sincere wishes accompany you. Bless you!
Farrago.
II
This, then, is how it came about that "Kitten" Brown and I were seated,
one midgeful morning in July, by the pellucid waters of Lake Susan W.
Pillsbury, gnawing sections from a greasily fried trout, upon which I had
attempted culinary operations.
Brown's baptismal name was William; but the unfortunate young man
was once discovered indiscreetly embracing a pretty assistant in the
Administration Building at Bronx, and, furthermore, was overheard to
address her as "Kitten."
So Kitten Brown it was for him in future. After he had fought all the
younger members of the scientific staff in turn, he gradually became
resigned to this annoying _nom d'amour_.
Lightly but thoroughly equipped for scientific field research, we had
arrived at the rendezvous in time to bribe the two guides engaged by the
Government to go back to their own firesides.
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