The cold stole into the boy’s bones, and his fingers were so weary that he could scarcely hold the hammer. He piled the fire high again, and went back to his work. But the strokes fell slowly now, and the beating of the hammer in the night was labored and irregular. The high-heaped fire sent its beacon gleam against the sky and showed the shadow of the boy, striving the long night through to bring the giant of the past to light.
Chip!... Chip!...
The hammer fell aimlessly. Ineffectively the boy made an attempt to raise it, but his fingers were nerveless. He swayed once, twice, then fell forward on his hands across the Titan, sunk in the sleep of exhaustion.
As the dawn broke, three riders, at full speed, guided by the light of the fire, came dashing down the ravine, and the first rays of the rising sun showed them the boy asleep, pillowed on the outcrop of a Brachiosaurus, which later quarrying was to prove one of the finest of its kind.
“Some paleontologist!” said the professor, and laid his overcoat over the sleeping boy.
THE END
U. S. SERVICE SERIES
By FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER
Illustrations from photographs taken in work for U. S. Government
Large 12mo Cloth $1.50 per volume