CHAPTER III
PIRATES OF THE AIR
Perry’s father, whose entrance had awakened the boy, looked quizzically at the lad as he stood rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“I don’t know about catching a unicorn,” the old merchant said, with more than a trace of amused understanding in his tone, “but there’s a big chance that you’ve caught a cold! You’d better get to bed, son, just about as quickly as you know how. Then you can go ahead and catch all the unicorns you want.”
The boy looked a little shame-faced at having disclosed the fact that he had fallen asleep and had dreamed of the monsters on which his mind had been set, but his father put his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and said kindly:
“We’ll talk about this again some other time, Perry, and if you really feel that you want to take up a fossil-hunter’s life, I’ll not put anything in your way. I had hoped—” he added regretfully, “that you would come right into my business, but after all, every tub must stand on its own bottom. If you do go into the scientific work, I’ll at least have the satisfaction of seeing some of my own old dreams coming true, even though at second-hand. Slip along to bed, now, lad.”
Still only half-awake, Perry made some indistinct reply, undressed and in a few minutes was fast asleep, this time too soundly even to dream of monsters, until the light of a morning that had forgotten those ancient times, woke him to the interests of a new day. It did occur to him, though, as he was dressing, that the sun as it rose that morning had risen just the same, thousands of years ago, and would rise the same way hundreds of thousands of years hence, and he wondered what kind of creatures would be living on the earth then.
By tacit consent, nothing was said at the breakfast table concerning the subject that had been discussed the night before, for Perry’s mother was inclined to jump to conclusions and it was an understood thing in the household that the best time to inform her about anything that was new was after it had been decided and settled. So Perry started off for school, just as usual, and for over a week he kept his ambitions to himself.
One Saturday morning, however, at breakfast time, his father said to him:
“Perry, if you’ve nothing better to do, you might walk down with me to the office this morning.”
“Sure!” the lad replied gladly, for these Saturday morning walks were a great pleasure to him. The old financier always had his car come round to the door sharp at 8:30 in the morning, but if the day were fine, it was his custom to dismiss the chauffeur and to take the three miles to his office at a brisk walk. He was a good walker and had trained Perry to keep up a lively pace. This morning, as soon as they had struck their gait, the merchant said to his son: