“You shall draw it up yourself.”
“That’s satisfactory. Now what?”
“Where’s your camp? You were coming up here monster hunting. I know. Thought you would find that big prehistoric monster Ike Izard claimed to have seen. Ha! Ha! What fools your scientists are.”
“Not quite so big fools as you may think,” replied Dick. “I’ve seen that same monster all right.”
“Rats! Rubbish! Come on to the hut. We’ll talk this thing over. I—merciful mother of Moses! Look there!”
Suddenly the water of Izard Lake, close to where they stood, began to boil in the same old fashion, and all at once a huge head, shaped like a crocodile’s, was thrust out.
It was not the Plesiosaurus at all, but a monster of an entirely different sort.
Its vast body was covered with great scales, its huge eyes seemed to reflect back the moonlight. It opened its cavernous mouth fully a yard long and uttered a hissing roar which seemed to shake the very earth as it made a rush shoreward, directly for the place where Dick and Martin Mudd stood.
The effect was to break up Dick’s little session with that eccentric individual on the instant, for Mudd gave a wild yell of terror, took to his heels and ran toward the hut, leaving Dick to shift for himself.
But Dick was not running away.