“About how big, Perry?” “I’d like one about a hundred feet long, if I could find it.” “You don’t want much,” was his father’s half-humorous reply, as he folded the newspaper so that he could read the next column with more ease. After a few moments, pursuing the subject, he continued, “Is there any particular breed of dragon that you’re after?” “What I really want,” the boy answered, “is one of those spiny ones—the sort Uncle George discovered out West.” The keen old financier looked thoughtful, then deliberately took off his reading-glasses, laid down the paper and turned to the boy. “You’re talking about fossil monsters, then,” he said. “Yes, Father, that’s it exactly. And I do hope you’ll let me do it!” The boy’s earnestness was evident, and he knew he could count on his father, for they had always been close friends. “Let you do what?” the merchant queried in response. “I suppose all this preamble about a dragon means that you have some crazy notion in your head. Come along, son, tell me all about it.” This was the chance for which Perry Hunt had long been waiting, and he snatched eagerly at it. “There’s a chap I know,” he sputtered, “who’s going ’way out to the South Dakota Bad Lands to prospect for fossils. He’s a freshman at Princeton, and it’s their expedition. He told me he was sure he would be able to take me along, if I could fix things up at my end. I’ve always been wild to go fossil-hunting, Father, and this is a real chance. Can’t I go?” Mr. Hunt tapped the ash from the end of his cigar and looked inquiringly at his son. “What in thunder do you know about fossils?” he asked, abruptly. Perry colored. He was inclined to be shy about the things for which he really cared, and he had never before talked to his father about his hobby. The great secret of his boyhood had been a passionate interest in the strange creatures which used to wander over the earth, millions of years before the first man. Mr. Hunt had a sharp, quizzical tongue, and Perry was afraid of being misunderstood and ridiculed. Now, however, the time for concealment was past and he spoke up valiantly. “I’ve read nearly everything I could get hold of, along that line,” he replied, “and I’ve hung around our little Museum a lot. The curators and everybody have been bully to me down there, and they’ve let me putter about in the workshops. I really have learned quite a bit about fossils, Father, and Mr. Cavalier has shown me how to draw. I’ve drawn heaps!” “The deuce you have!” the other commented. “Got any of those drawings still?” The boy nodded. “Let me see them, Perry—that is, if you don’t mind.”