Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

Othniel Marsh lived alone in a mansion he had built on a hill outside New Haven. As he walked up
the hill, Johnson had a sense of the loneliness and isolation of Marsh’s life, his need for approval, for
status and acceptance. He was shown to the drawing room; Marsh was working there alone, and
looked up from a manuscript he was preparing.
“You sent for me, Professor Marsh?”
Marsh glared at him. “Where are they?”
“You mean the bones?”
“Of course I mean the bones! Where are they?”
Johnson held Marsh’s gaze. He realized he was no longer afraid of the man, in any way. “Professor
Cope has the bones, in Philadelphia. All of them.”
“Is it true you have found the remains of a hitherto unknown dinosaur of great size?”
“I am not at liberty to say, Professor.”
“You are a fatuous fool,” Marsh said. “You have squandered your own opportunity for greatness.
Cope will never publish, and if he does, his report will be so hasty, so filled with inaccuracies, that it
will never attain the recognition of the scientific community. You should have brought them to Yale,
where they could be properly studied. You are a fool and a traitor to your college, Johnson.”
“Is that all, Professor?”
“Yes, that’s all.” Johnson turned to leave. “One more thing,” Marsh said.
“Yes, Professor?”
“I don’t suppose you can get the bones back?”
“No, Professor.”
“Then it’s gone,” Marsh said wistfully. “All gone.” He returned to his manuscript. His pen
scratched on the paper.
Johnson left the room. On his way out, he passed a small skeleton of the miniature Cretaceous
horse Eohippus. It was beautifully formed, beautifully assembled, this pale skeleton from the distant
past. Somehow it made Johnson sad. He turned away, and hurried down the hill toward the College.