246 Life of a Fossil Hunter 



Creek, south of Seymour, passing on the way a 

 hundred-acre field of corn. It belonged to an old 

 man, who had cultivated it until it was perfectly 

 clean, and the long rows of living green were beauti- 

 ful to see. When I passed it again on my way back, 

 a hot wind was blowing, so hot that I had to shield 

 my face and eyes to keep them from burning. The 

 beautiful field, upon which the old man had looked 

 with so many hopes of a rich harvest, had been 

 scorched and seared as if by a blast of fire. 



So the weeks lengthened into months, and the 

 merciless sky still refused us rain. At our camp 

 on Coffee Creek the heat was so terrible that we 

 could not keep eggs, butter, or milk, or many other 

 edibles necessary to comfort and health. The re- 

 sult was that my stomach soon got out of order, 

 and a severe attack of biliousness set in, attended by 

 an incessant longing for a drink of cold, pure water. 

 I thought by day and dreamed by night of the well 

 on my farm at home, with the clear water dripping 

 from the bucket ; for our only drink, except coffee, 

 was the warm, foul-tasting water which had been 

 brought in a barrel from twenty miles away and had 

 soon become stale. Even that was always giving 

 out at inconvenient times. Whenever we came to a 

 new fossil locality, and the hope was strong within 

 me that now we would make a rich find, George was 

 sure to say, " Papa, we're out of water," and we 



