“Yes.” “Where?” “Wyoming.” “And am I going?” “That’s for your father to say. I’d like to have you along.” The lad looked appealingly to the old merchant at the head of the table. The latter caught his son’s look and smiled. “I think we’ll have to let the boy go with you, George,” he said, “if it’s only to give us a rest. I pledge you my word that there’s been so much paleontology talked in this house ever since Perry came back from that Egyptian trip, that half the time, when a bird comes on the table at dinner time, I hardly know whether I’m carving a modern chicken or an Archæopteryx.” The scientist smiled broadly. “In that case,” he said, “you’d better let him come with me.” “Oh, Father,” cried Perry, “can’t I go?” The boy’s mother began some protest from the other end of the table, but the old merchant paid no heed. “Yes,” he answered thoughtfully, “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t go.” Perry wriggled in his chair with eagerness. “Uncle George,” he began excitedly, “when are we going to start? And just whereabouts in Wyoming are we going? And what are we going to look for? And—” The professor put up his hand in protest. “Easy, easy there, Perry,” he said. “I’ve a lively remembrance of what you’re like when you start asking questions. Spare me now. I’ll take a walk with you after dinner and you can spring anything that you want to know, then.” Accordingly, as soon as the meal came to an end—and Perry had never thought a dinner could seem so long and slow, he handed his uncle his hat and the big ironwood stick that the professor always carried, grabbed his own cap and half-pushed him out of the door. “Now, Uncle George,” he said. “Please, quick, tell me all about it! When are we going to start?” The professor took out his watch with an assumption of intense hurry and consulted it. “The last Eohippus sank quietly to sleep about two and a quarter million years ago,” he said, “and somehow I seem to think that he’ll stay there and wait for us a little while longer. But of course, if you’re in such a tremendous rush—” “Please don’t joke, Uncle George, I really want to know when we’re going to start. I’d like to make those corrections on that Pteranodon that you told me about before I go, any way.” “You can probably do that,” the scientist replied. “I had planned to start for the west in a couple of weeks.” “Whereabouts?” “I want to correlate some horizons,” was the reply. The boy looked puzzled. “You don’t see what I mean?” the professor asked. “I don’t, quite,” the lad replied. “Well, Perry, I want to visit three or four points in Wyoming where different strata of rock are exposed, working from the Upper Eocene downwards. You remember, at the Fayum, there were rocks belonging to the Oligocene Period right up at the top of the cliff, Upper Eocene on the next layer, Middle Eocene where we had our camp, and Lower Eocene down near that Birket-el-Qurun lake?”