Transcriber’s Notes: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). This novel was serialized in the _Happy Days_ story paper from March 17-May 3, 1900 (issues 283-290), and it does not appear to have ever been published in book form. Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. * * * * * Dick and Dr. Dan; Or, THE BOY MONSTER HUNTERS OF THE BAD LANDS. By C. LITTLE. FRANK TOUSEY 24 Union Square New York, N. Y. 1900 * * * * * Dick and Dr. Dan. By C. LITTLE. CHAPTER I. A MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR. “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.