“Hello, Dick! Where are you going in such a hurry? You must have had your breakfast and it isn’t dinner time yet.”

Two boys of about eighteen years met unexpectedly in the little park in front of the United States National Museum, Washington, D. C.

Dick Darrell was one and Charley Nicholson the other; both were in the employ of the paleontological department of the museum, their duties being to sort out and arrange the bones of the various prehistoric animals found by the agents of the museum in different parts of the United States.

“I’m not after grub just now, Charley,” replied Dick. “Perhaps you don’t know that I’ve been under the weather for the last day or two, but such is the fact. Wasn’t coming down this morning, but I just received a telegram from old Poynter telling me to come at once if I was able to leave my bed.”

“Hello!” cried Charley. “What’s in the wind now, I wonder? Have you drawn another prize?”

“Can’t tell.”

“Great Scott! I only wish it was my luck.”

“Wait a bit. Perhaps I’m going to get the grand bounce.”

“I hardly think that. Oh, I know! You are going to be sent off on some bone hunting expedition or another. A regular picnic. Something that will last all summer. No such luck ever comes my way.”

“You can’t tell. Stick to your work and try to do it the best you possibly can; that’s the thing that brings promotion every time.”

The boys separated inside the employees’ door of the museum, for Charley’s duties called him to the extreme end of the long building, while Dick was bound for Professor Poynter’s office, on the second floor.

That genial old scientist was at his desk busily writing.

“Good morning, Dick,” he called out. “One minute, my boy, until I finish this letter; then I will talk.”

Dick waited patiently for fully fifteen minutes, after which the professor folded up his letter and motioned to him to draw up a chair.

“Dick,” he said, “we want you for another expedition. You did so well down among the fossil beds of South Carolina that we are disposed to try you again.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Dick. “I always try to do my best. What is it to be this time?”

“Well, it isn’t bone hunting,” replied the professor, “and you will be surprised when I tell you what it is.”

Professor Poynter paused and began tumbling over the mass of papers upon his desk, leaving Dick to wonder what it all meant.

“I have the letter here somewhere,” he said, “but I don’t seem to find it. Ah, yes! Here it is, and here’s the newspaper cutting attached to it which first called our attention to the matter. It’s from the Cheyenne Herald of a month ago. Listen to this:

“Ike Izard and Doctor Dan are in town again, back from a three weeks’ bone hunting trip in the Bad Lands. Ike seems to be sober—more so than usual—but he reports a most astonishing experience, which is certainly enough to make us wonder how heavy a supply of Cheyenne bug juice he and the doctor had with them on their last trip.

“It seems that they started out from Node Ranch and went into the Bad Lands as far as Walker’s Creek, pretty well covering the central eastern section of Converse county; one morning, after climbing a high mountain—Ike declares they went up at least 5,000 feet—they came suddenly upon a lake a mile or more wide and five miles long, which is not down on the maps, and so Ike took the liberty of naming it for himself, Izard Lake.

“Here they went into camp and spent several days, as the shores of the lake were well strewn with fossil bones of the sort they were out after.

“On the morning of the third day Ike was suddenly awakened by a strange bellowing, which seemed to come from off on the water. He shook up the doctor and they both ran out and were nearly paralyzed (question is if they weren’t entirely paralyzed the night before) at seeing a huge monster swimming toward them over the lake, bellowing like a mad bull.

“Ike describes it as having a huge oval body, rounded like a turtle, about twenty feet long, from which rose an immensely long neck—Ike declares it was half as long again as the body, ending in a comparatively small head, like a snake’s head in shape, but with an enormous mouth full of monstrous teeth.

“Ike says that the monster swam very gracefully, being provided with fins, which acted as paddles, two on each side. He and the doctor each took a shot at it, but in consequence of their semi-paralyzed condition the shots did nothing more than to so scare the creature that it took a header into the lake and was seen no more.

“This is the biggest yarn Ike has given us yet, but he promises to think up a bigger one for the next trip into the Bad Lands. Send it along, Isaac. We shall always be glad to print any story that you may have to tell.”

“There!” exclaimed Professor Poynter. “What do you think of that, Dick?”

“Why, it seems to me, sir, that somebody has worked up the description of the Plesiosaurus Dolichodeirus and made a good yarn about it. Of course you don’t believe the story can be true?”

“Such was my first idea, of course,” replied the professor, “but I make it an invariable rule to investigate all these newspaper stories. Nine-tenths of them, of course, turn out to be fakes, but as it happens in this case that this fellow Izard is in our employ and we know him to be a most faithful man and entirely a sober person, I felt all the more interest in the matter, so I at once wrote him and received this reply.”

Here the professor unfolded the letter and read as follows:

Accompanying the letter was the affidavit duly signed before a notary public.

There was also one from Doctor Dan, who Professor Poynter explained was an Indian guide, who usually accompanied Ike Izard on his expeditions after fossil bones.

“There,” said Professor Poynter. “There’s the story, Dick. It is extremely unlikely that it is true, but still it may be, and we have determined to send you out to the Bad Lands of Wyoming to investigate. When will you be ready to start?”

“To-morrow morning,” replied Dick, promptly, “but let me ask one question, have the fossil remains of the P. Dolichodeirus been found in that part of the Bad Lands?”

“Many times, my boy.”

“Then it is possible that one or two specimens may have survived?”

“Just possible, but no more. As you are well aware, this creature belongs to an entirely different period of the earth’s history from the one in which we are at present living. On the other hand, it is a fact that the lakes of eastern Wyoming are the remains of an old prehistoric sea which once covered all this section. The Great Salt Lake is another remnant of it and there are others still. The chances of the story being true, however, are exceedingly remote.”

“It would be an immense discovery if it was, sir.”

“Of incalculable value to science. Should you be fortunate enough to make such a discovery you are authorized to spare no expense to pen the creature into some cove, if such a thing is possible, but we prefer you should not kill it. Of course if you see it you will telegraph me at the first possible moment and I will come right out. Every effort should be made to take it alive, in order that we may study its habits. You can go to the cashier and draw what money you think you may need. You will go first to Node Ranch, where I have instructed Doctor Dan to meet you; Izard himself is off on another expedition and you will not see him. That’s all, except that you will need an assistant. I leave it to you to make your choice.”

“Will Charley Nicholson suit, sir?” asked Dick, eagerly.

“He is rather young,” replied the professor, “but still I know you are great friends, so I will not object. That’s all, Dick. Leave me now, for I have a mountain of work ahead of me. It won’t be necessary for you to call again.”

Dick left the office, wild with enthusiasm. As for Charley, there was no restraining him when he heard the good news.

And, indeed, the boys were admirably adapted to the work, Dick being without parents or family ties of any kind. Charley’s mother had long since been dead, while his father was a sea captain, who showed little or no interest in the welfare of his son.

Thus these two boys were practically without ties and it might be supposed that Dick could easily have named an earlier hour for his departure than the next morning, and so he might and certainly would have done so if it had not happened that he had an engagement to attend a social gathering that evening at the house of one of his friends.

Having drawn his money, Dick bought tickets for himself and Charley for Fort Fetterman, Wyoming, where it would be necessary to go off on a branch road to Node Ranch.

The boys spent the afternoon in buying the necessary things for the trip and in packing up.

At ten o’clock Dick left a certain house on B street, N. W., where he had passed the evening, and started for his own room, which was located on H street, a few squares away. As he was passing down B street, deeply engrossed in thought about the strange mission with which he had been charged, he saw two young girls come running down the stoop of a house a little way ahead of him.

Evidently they lived close by, for they wore no wraps and the April air was damp and chilly.

Dick watched them as they turned the corner and they would have passed out of his mind in a moment if he had not been startled all at once by a piercing scream.

“Help! Help!” came the cry ringing out upon the night.

Dick darted around the corner like a shot. He was certain that the cry had proceeded from the two girls and he was right.

There they stood backed against the iron railing of the corner house, with two young toughs, both very drunk, standing before them, laughing.

“You can’t pass us that way, ladies,” Dick heard one of the pair say. “We want to know your names and where you are going—that’s what.”

“Hands off those ladies!” cried Dick, running up.

“Mind your own business,” snarled one of the “lushers,” aiming a blow at Dick. “What is it to you?”

“This!” cried Dick, striking out from the shoulder and landing his fist between the fellow’s eyes, tumbling him back against the electric light pole.

The fellow gave a yell, reeled and fell over in the gutter, while the other one jumped in and caught Dick by the throat.

“I’ll kill you for this!” he hissed, whipping out a long knife and flourishing it around the neighborhood of Dick’s heart, as he backed him up against the post.