The scientist was distinctly pleased with the lad’s work and reverted to it more than once in the course of the day. At the same time, the genuine scientific interest shown by the professor in the Pteranodon was grateful to the old merchant, who, as he said himself, had bought the bones “on faith.” The third day of Dr. Hunt’s visit, at dinner, the scientist turned to his nephew and said quite unexpectedly: “Perry, do you know the famous poem about the Eohippus?” “No, Uncle George,” the boy replied. “I don’t believe I do.” “You are acquainted with our little friend, the Eohippus, I suppose?” Perry grinned. “In books and in bones,” he said, “but I haven’t ever met him in real life.” Then, for he never missed an opportunity of trying to persuade his uncle to take him on another expedition, he added: “I’d be awfully glad to meet him, though, Uncle George, if you’re going to pay him a visit.” “I am,” the scientist replied. “But if you don’t know that little bit of verse, which was written by a clever and quite well-known woman after a visit to our New York Museum, part of your education as a paleontologist has been seriously neglected, and I’m going to make up for that neglect at once.” And, without further preamble, he began: “There was once a little animal No bigger than a fox, And on five toes he scampered Over Tertiary rocks; They called him Eohippus, For he certainly was small, And they thought him of no value When they thought of him at all; For the lumpish old Dinoceras And Coryphodon so slow, Were the heavy aristocracy In days of long ago.” “Except that the Dinoceras didn’t live at the same time as the Eohippus,” put in Perry, “he came along later.” “Poetic license,” replied his uncle. “I didn’t write the verse. Shall I go on?” “Oh, sure!” answered Perry eagerly. So his uncle continued: “Said the little Eohippus, ‘I’m going to be a horse! And on my middle finger-nails To run my earthly course! I’m going to have a flowing tail, I’m going to have a mane, I’m going to stand fourteen hands high, On the psychozoic plain.’” “He got away with it, too,” commented Perry, “but I don’t wonder that the Coryphodon couldn’t see it coming.” “Not only couldn’t he see it coming,” said his uncle, “but the poet represents him as being quite annoyed about it.” And he continued: