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.
“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:
CHEYENNE, Wyo., March 10.
DEAR SIR:--That story about the monster is true i swar it is as I
hope for hiven i didn’t rite it to you bekos i tought you wood think
me line but its true jest the same and if you don’t believe me ask
Doc Dan who will tell you that we seen it up to the lake say jest
fer satisfaction i am goin’ to take my oath before a notary publick
the thing was there i never seen nothing like it in all my life you
couldn’t ketch it and there would be no use trying don’t believe a
yoke of steers could drag the carcass down to Node Ranch even if
you could get the steers up the mountain which you couldn’t. Mebbe
it would pay you to send a feller out to get a snap shot at it. Yrs
trooly,
IKE IZARD.
P. S.--You can bet your bottom dollar it’s no lye. IKE.
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.
[Illustration: Right in front of them, not ten feet away, a huge shiny
head, long and flat, with an enormous mouth filled with horrible teeth
and two great, glittering eyes set on the sides, projected over the
rocks. “The monster!” shouted Dick, and instantly the head darted
forward, followed by a long, sinewy neck. Inset 1: MR. MARTIN MUDD.
Inset 2: “HANDS OFF THOSE LADIES.”]
“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.