60 Life of a Fossil Hunter 



fish has only to swim up close to the abdomen of a 

 sleeping reptile, and lay it open for several feet with 

 one sudden stroke. If that is not sufficient, a slap 

 of the powerful tail, with a span of nearly four feet, 

 finishes the work. 



But see! nearer and nearer the great fish comes, 

 mouthful after mouthful of the fishes falling 

 into its horrid jaws. It must be starving; so 

 eager is it for its prey that it seems unconscious of 

 the fact that the tide has turned and is moving out- 

 ward. Now it discovers its danger and turns, but 

 too late. The water has gone back to the deep, leav- 

 ing it struggling for breath in a shallow pool. It 

 thrashes wildly about with its tail, whose sticky se- 

 cretions help to envelop it more and more thickly 

 with mud and slime, until at last its struggles cease. 



And then the scene changes. The old ocean dis- 

 appears, and we stand, George and I, three thousand 

 feet above sea level, on Hay Creek, in Logan 

 County, among crumbling ruins of denuded and 

 eroded chalk; and working with pick and shovel in 

 the burning sun, we bring the mighty carcass once 

 more to the light of day. 



But I hope to take my readers into this field again, 

 and will pass on now to my expedition in the Bad 

 Lands with Professor Cope. 



