Jack brought the car to a halt.  The voice came again.

“Hi!  Help me!  Ouch!  Help!”

“What in the world is the matter now?” wondered Tom.

“Somebody in trouble in that field yonder.  We’d better get out and see what’s up,” proposed Jack.

The shouts seemed to issue from beyond a high bank at one side of the road.  On its summit was a hedge which prevented the boys seeing what was going on in the field that lay beyond.

As they got out of the car, however, Jack spied a bicycle at one side of the road.  A satchel that he remembered very well was slung from its frame.

“It’s the professor in trouble again!” declared Jack.

“I do believe you are right,” replied Tom as they scrambled up the bank.  “That’s sure enough his wheel.”

They found a gate in the hedge and on the other side an odd sight met their eyes.  Kneeling on the ground was the professor.  His right arm was thrust almost up to the shoulder into a hole in the ground.  He was shouting lustily for help and appeared to be imprisoned in his queer posture.

“Some animal has got hold of his hand,” cried Jack.  “Come on, Tom.”

“Oh, boys, thank goodness you’ve come,” gasped the scientist.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Jack.

“I can’t get my arm out of this hole,” declared the professor.

“How did you get it in?” asked Tom.

“A fine specimen that I dropped accidentally rolled into it,” was the reply.  “I reached in to get it and now I can’t get my hand out.”

“But you got it in easily enough,” said Jack in a puzzled tone.

“Ah, yes,” replied the professor, “but then I didn’t have my hand clenched.  Now my fist is closed and I have the specimen in it.  Oh, boys, it’s a beauty.  One of the finest I have ever seen.  It shows distinct monolithic traces.”

“But if you don’t drop it you can’t get your hand out,” argued Tom.

“I know that.  That’s why I shouted for help,” said the professor simply.

“You’ll have to let go of it,” decided Jack, almost choking with laughter at the plight of the eccentric little man.

“Let go of it?  My dear sir,” murmured the professor in a shocked tone, “this specimen is worth at least twenty dollars, not to speak of its scientific value.”

“But you can’t stay here,” said Jack decisively.

“And I won’t let go of the specimen,” declared the professor with equal firmness.

“What on earth are we to do?” said Jack, looking helplessly at Tom.

Not far off Tom had noticed a man digging potatoes.  It gave him an idea.

“We can borrow that man’s shovel and dig his arm out,” he suggested.

“It’s about the only thing to do, I guess,” said Jack.  “You go and see if you can get it.  I’ll keep the professor company.”

Tom soon came back.  The potato-digger accompanied him.  The man was much interested in the eccentric man’s plight.