The Long-Lost Secret Diary of the World's Worst Dinosaur Hunter Page 3

  I can now see that my curse was following me all along. It was simply allowing me a few moments of hope to make things all the more bitter when it struck again.

  No doubt I shall be stuck on this beach forever, digging out ancient bones for ungrateful tourists.

  Friday, April 29th

  This morning I told Father I didn’t feel like collecting any new fossils. I thought this might make him angry. He’s been working very hard on his stall recently, and I’ve had to collect a lot of bones to replace the ones he’s sold. But instead of frowning, he rooted around in a pile of rocks in the corner.

  “I hoped some of those professors would come up with the money,” he said. “But I thought of a back-up plan in case they didn’t.”

  He dragged out a wooden chest and opened it to reveal a huge stash of gold coins.

  “We can’t use that,” I said. “That’s everything you’ve ever earned from the stall.”

  “You earned it too,” he said. “It wouldn’t have been much of a bone stall with no bones. If you’ve got your heart set on the New World, let’s go. I’m keen to see what all the fuss is about myself.”

  I tried arguing, but Father wouldn’t hear a word.

  So it seems we are going to America after all. Can I really have escaped my curse at last?

  I can’t wait to get out there and hunt some dinosaurs. But there is so much to arrange first. I’ll start by writing to Mr. Armstrong, so he can get his travel agent to book everything. Then I need to work out what to bring, and study the maps and journals over and over again. I expect this shall be my last diary entry for some while.

  Monday, July 11th

  I am writing this from the saloon of our steamship, The City of Bristol. We set off at seven this morning. One of the crewmen fired a gun and the huge vessel crept away from the dock. The passengers crowded onto the deck to wave handkerchiefs at their friends and family. Soon we were leaving Bristol far behind and the mood became more somber. I noticed a few women lifting their handkerchiefs to their eyes to brush away tears. No doubt they were missing the loved ones they’d left behind.

  Even Father was subdued, which is very unusual. I wonder if all the sad partings reminded him of when we lost Mother. I’d rather not dwell on such things, so I didn’t ask him.

  Already we are far out at sea, and my heart races every time we roll over a large wave. I know our ship’s safety equipment is excellent, and we’re in no real danger, but it feels very strange to be listing about so violently with nothing but water for miles around.

  Tuesday, July 12th

  I was worried Father would get bored and I’d have to keep him entertained, but luckily he’s made friends with some gentlemen from Boston, leaving me free to study my maps and journals.

  He must be getting on well with the Boston men, as he seems in very good spirits whenever I run into him.

  Wednesday, July 13th

  Father is no longer friends with the gentlemen from Boston, as they caught him cheating at cards. I should have known from his wide grin that he was up to something.

  Father claimed it was all just a practical joke and that he was planning to give their money back at the end of the journey, but it didn’t stop them dangling him over the side of the ship and making him promise to stay away from them for the rest of the journey.

  All of which means I’ve got to find ways to keep him occupied for the next week. Right now I’ve got him copying out a list of currently known dinosaurs from Mr. Armstrong’s journals. I’ve already done this myself, but I’m pretending it’s vital for our trip in an effort to keep him out of trouble.

  Thursday, July 14th

  When I woke up this morning I found our cabin swaying violently. I became convinced that my bad luck was following us across the sea and that a great storm would sink us before we even reached the new world. But when I stepped out onto the deck I saw a crewman strolling along and whistling with his hands in his pockets. He seemed very confused when I asked him what was wrong. Apparently our crossing is very calm, and there’s nothing to worry about. It certainly doesn’t feel that way.

  Friday, July 15th

  The ship began to lurch about again this afternoon. We were sitting in the saloon, and a great many of the ladies and gentlemen around us had to rush out to vomit over the side. Father and I were very amused to watch all the refined folk breaking off their sophisticated conversations to throw up. Or at least we were until our own stomachs gave out and we had to join them.

  The noise was quite deafening. The crew wouldn’t have needed to sound the steam whistle if another ship had approached. The sound of us all vomiting must have rung out for miles.

  Wednesday, July 20th

  We are now heading into the port of New York, a mere nine days after we left Bristol. We’ve been following the coast for the last two days, which I found rather surprising. New York isn’t the closest point to England, but it’s the most important, so this is where we’re heading. It must be frustrating for the people of Massachusetts or Maine to watch their towns sail by, knowing they have a long rail journey ahead when they reach New York.

  The sun is very powerful now. I’ve ventured out onto deck to get myself used to the heat, but I can’t stay out long without feeling faint.

  I must persevere. The heat in the West will be much fiercer.

  Thursday, July 21st

  I am writing this from our hotel in New York. We made it all the way here without any deadly storms, icebergs, or sea monsters. I hardly dare say it, but I believe I have left my curse back at home. Perhaps it was afraid to cross the water.

  New York is just as crowded and dirty as London, and the smell is even worse because of the heat.

  We had to carry our trunk for half an hour to find our hotel. Everywhere was packed with people in a desperate hurry, and most were annoyed with us for going slowly.

  As well as American accents, I heard Irish and Scottish voices and some European languages that Father said were Italian and German. People are coming from all over the world to this huge city. I wonder where everyone will live if it keeps growing at this rate?

  I don’t think Father really understands how big this city is. He keeps introducing himself to people and telling them he’ll see them around. I explained that there are almost a million people here. The chance of meeting any of them again is tiny.

  Friday, July 22nd

  I was wrong. Father did indeed run into someone again. It was a woman in a green dress he’d spoken to outside our hotel last night. He spotted her this morning and greeted her like an old friend. She clearly didn’t remember him, because she shrieked and ran away down the street. This sent Father into a long rant about how New Yorkers are unfriendly. I explained that they see lots of people every day. You can’t expect them to remember every one.

  Father finally snapped out of his foul mood when he spotted a small group playing cards around a crate. He was desperate to join in, but I convinced him to hold back and observe them. I’m glad I did as the whole thing turned out to be a confidence trick.

  It was called “Three Card Monte” and you had to follow the Queen of Hearts as the dealer rearranged a row of three cards. It cost a nickel to play, but if you got it right you got your nickel back, plus an extra one. At first there seemed to be many winners, but I soon worked out that anyone who took money from the dealer was secretly a friend of his. Whenever a genuine member of the public played, they lost. The dealer skillfully laid out the cards to make sure they always chose the wrong one. He did it so fast you could barely see it, but you could tell what he was doing if you concentrated on his hands.

  Father was very impressed when I explained the scam to him and he said he’ll try it on the tourists when we get home. I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s one thing to trick people in a huge city where you can disappear into the crowd. It’s another to do it in a ti
ny village with nowhere to hide and plenty of tall cliffs to throw you off.

  Saturday, July 23rd

  Our long railroad journey west begins today. It will take us over two weeks just to get to the first bone bed, Creston Rock. It just goes to show what a vast country this is. You can travel at high speed for weeks and still not reach the end.

  After trying to make friends with hundreds of locals, Father finally found someone who wanted to talk to him today. He wandered down the platform as we were waiting for the train, and found a man with a white mustache who was happy to hear all about our trip. I was hoping he might get on our train and keep Father occupied, but he was waiting for a different one. At least Father’s changed his mind about all New Yorkers being rude, even if it did happen right at the end of our stay.

  Since we boarded the train, Father’s been trying to teach himself to deal cards like the con artist. This should take him hours to master, which will give me plenty of time to study my maps and journals.

  Monday, August 1st

  We’re passing into dry, mysterious territory. I feel as though the ancient lizards are calling me from their graves in the hot ground. None of those stuffy old fools from the society would dare come this far west. There are lawless bandits and violent locals out here. Even if the great lizards came back to life, they wouldn’t be the most dangerous thing around.

  Let the cowards back home argue over their tiny scraps of backbone. I’m striking out to gather some real fossils.

  Wednesday, August 3rd

  The heat is becoming unbearable. I have been cooling myself with my fan all day, and my arms are so tired I can hardly write.

  If the train is speeding along its tracks, air rushes in and cools us, but when it stops sweat drips down my face.

  It is difficult enough to put up with the temperature while relaxing in a carriage. I can only imagine how tough it must have been for the workers who built this railroad.

  We are staying in a boarding house by the side of the station tonight. Most of the other travelers who have ventured this far west are young men working on the railroads and in the mines. It’s almost midnight and they’re still making a deafening noise in the saloon next door. They seem to switch between fearsome arguments and rowdy songs.

  Father has now perfected his card dealing and he wanted to try it out on them, but I persuaded him to stay. Some of them are carrying revolvers, and if he tried the Three Card Monte trick on any of them, it would be the last thing he ever did.

  GET REAL

  The first transcontinental railroad was completed in 1869. Within just a few years, it had transformed the United States. It became much easier for people to travel west and farm land, and industries such as mining boomed. But it was bad news for the American buffalo. Professional hunters moved west and almost drove the species to extinction. The disappearance of buffalo was also devastating to the native tribes of the Great Plains. These peoples depended on the buffalo for food, clothing, and shelter. The loss of the buffalo ultimately led to the destruction of the way of life for the Plains Indians.

  Chapter 4

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  Digging for Bones

  Thursday, August 11th

  We have finally arrived at our first bone bed. This evening we got off the train at Creston Rock, and checked into the local boarding house. Early tomorrow we shall venture out to the place Mr. Armstrong marked on the map.

  The heat is so intense in the middle of the day that we’ll only be able to work in the morning and the evening. But if the ground around here is as rich with fossils as Mr. Armstrong seemed to believe, we should strike gold before long.

  Friday, August 12th

  Nothing so far. We walked for half an hour until we came to the place Mr. Armstrong had marked. It was a stretch of flat, dry land at the base of a rocky ridge that ran from east to west.

  According to Mr. Armstrong, the ground should have been full of fossils. But there was no sign of any by the time Father had dug six feet into the earth. By then the heat was rising and we had to return.

  This evening we tried a place several feet away, but it also yielded nothing. But this was just the first day. We have five more before we must move on to our next stop.

  Monday, August 15th

  Four days have gone and still we’ve found no bones. We’ve tried digging at intervals of ten feet all along the ridge, but with no success.

  Father got so frustrated he insisted on digging until after noon, when we should have been resting in the shade of our room. When even this extra effort produced nothing, he collapsed onto the rocky ground.

  He said he didn’t mind if we found nothing, because we’ve both had a wonderful holiday. It didn’t sound very convincing as he lay there gasping for breath, with his sweat running into the dust.

  We came here to find dinosaurs, not to enjoy the scenery. We shall have to keep trying.

  Thursday, August 18th

  I’m writing this from the station. We are sitting on empty cases and waiting to go to the next stop on our schedule, Rolling Valley. No one else is here except two railroad workers to our right and a solitary man at the far end of the platform.

  Father and I have said nothing this morning. But I suspect he’s wondering the same thing. What if Mr. Armstrong was wrong? What if there are no bones in the places he marked? What if the ancient beasts never lived here at all?

  It means we’ll have spent all our savings and sacrificed half a year for nothing. So much for leaving my bad luck back at home. It has followed me all the way here, just as it will follow me to the grave.

  No. I mustn’t think like this. I shall keep going and discover some amazing bones and I shall become known as the greatest fossil hunter in the world.

  Friday, August 19th

  Wonderful news! We have found something at last! We strolled out of our new boarding house as the sun rose and made for the second place Mr. Armstrong had marked. Within an hour we had struck our first bone, which was a tiny tail vertebra. It wasn’t very grand, but it was intact.

  I found three more this afternoon, and I have reconstructed part of the beast’s tail on my bed this evening.

  It isn’t going to throw Sir Leopold Pinkerton Hamilton and his friends into a fit of remorse. No doubt he’ll claim the bones came from a squirrel or something. But they’re a start, and they prove Mr. Armstrong was right about this bone bed.

  Saturday, August 20th

  We found a femur today. It’s similar in size to a human thigh but shaped like some of the ones in Mr. Armstrong’s journals. Tonight I’ve been thumbing through them and trying to find an exact match. If I can’t, I’ll be able to say I’ve discovered a new dinosaur on my first try.

  Tuesday, August 23rd

  I now have four ribs, three neck vertebrae, five sharp teeth, three claws, and the front and back limbs.

  In one of Mr. Armstrong’s journals, there’s an account of a brilliant French scientist who can tell what an entire creature was like from just a single bone.

  I have a few bones to work from, so I should have a pretty good idea. It’s smaller than some of the other dinosaurs. If I could put a leash on it and walk it around, it would probably come up to my waist. It would also get me into trouble, because it would eat every cat and dog in sight.

  It has long back limbs and short front ones, so I think it moved around on the back ones and grabbed things with the front ones. The sharp teeth and claws make me think it was after living creatures rather than plants, which is why I’d fear for the pets.

  I’m building up a good picture of my dinosaur now. I’m even growing quite attached to it, though I know it would leap up and rip my throat out if I tried to cuddle it.

  Wednesday, August 24th

  I’ve compared my dinosaur to all the diagrams in Mr. Armstrong’s journals, and I’m pretty sure it’s a new one. It w
ould be easier to tell for sure if I could find the creature’s skull, but we’ve run out of time here. Tomorrow, we make for the third stop, Hell Creek. I really hope the next bone bed has more fossils, but even if it doesn’t we’ve made a good find. It might not be the biggest dinosaur ever, and it might not be complete, but at least it will be easy to fit in our trunk and take back home. If I have nothing else to show the men from the Geological Society, I’ll still count this trip a success.

  GET REAL

  The small dinosaur Ann has found is now known as Coelophysis. She’s right about it being a carnivore, as it ate small reptiles. It was discovered in 1881 by David Baldwin, a fossil hunter who worked for both Othniel Charles Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope, the two great rivals behind the late nineteenth century “Bone Wars.”

  Thursday, August 25th

  It seems my curse has followed me across the ocean after all.

  As we were waiting for the train, I checked inside our trunk.

  Every single one of the dinosaur bones had smashed into small fragments.

  Father tried to comfort me by saying the bones must have been very fragile after all that time in the ground. I knew this was wrong. I’ve spent the last few days handling them, and while they were quite light and hollow, they weren’t in any danger of disintegrating.

  When Father saw it wasn’t convincing me, he tried to blame it on himself by pretending he’d been careless when carrying the trunk.

  I watched him carry it and he wasn’t. And at any rate, I don’t think the bones fell apart. I think someone smashed them.