"Well, now I know why you're digging," said Holliday, opening his flask, and taking a swallow. He offered it to Cope and Roosevelt, but both refused it. Younger reached out and grabbed it before it could be offered.

"I have a question, Professor," said Roosevelt.

"Yes?"

"How did something that big, that awesome, ever die out?"

"That's something we hope to find out."

"It'd take a lot more than my Winchester to bring something like that down, I'll wager," said Roosevelt, shooting Holliday a meaningful glance.

"Yeah, I think even cannon fire might just irritate him," agreed Holliday.

"No need to worry about it," said Cope. "These babies have been gone for millions of years." He stared from Roosevelt to Holliday and back again. "You want to see something really interesting?"

"Happy to!" said Roosevelt enthusiastically.

"Sure, why not?" said Holliday.

"Follow me," said Cope, leading them to the door of the log cabin. "I think it's still light enough that we won't need a candle."

He opened the door and entered, followed by his two visitors, and walked directly to a huge bone that extended the length of the cabin.

"What the hell is it?" asked Holliday.

"I'm not sure," said Cope. "It's clearly the femur-the leg bone-of one of the sauropods, but this fellow must have stood twenty, maybe twenty-two feet at the shoulder. We came up with it two days ago, and I'm not leaving this site until we find the rest of him."

"If you stay in one spot, won't the Comanche be better able to plan an attack, if indeed they're going to attack you in any kind of force?" asked Roosevelt.

"We haven't come upon any human remains there, so maybe they'll realize that it's not part of their burial ground," answered Cope.

"Wait a minute," said Roosevelt sharply.

"Yes?" asked Cope.

"You knew that this was a burial ground and you came here anyway?"

"I would go to hell itself in the interest of science, sir," said Cope harshly.

"Besides," said Younger, "we're digging up dinosaurs, not Indians. Haven't come to a human skeleton yet."

"That's not the way it works," said Holliday.

"Oh?" said Younger.

"I got the train to change its route around a sacred Apache burial ground back in Arizona," replied Holliday. "If you laid every Apache who'd ever lived end-to-end, you couldn't have reached from one end to the other, but the whole thing was still sacred."

"Then I'm sorry," said Cope, "but I can't let that stand in the way of the quest for knowledge. Besides, that's what I've got Cole Younger for."

"When we got here, he was guarding the bones you'd already found," noted Holliday, "not the bone-hunters who were out searching for more. I don't think you realize just what kind of danger your expedition is in."

"It's not a problem," said Cope with a sudden smile.

"Oh?" said Holliday. "Why not?"

"The notorious Doc Holliday is here now," said Cope. "One of you will guard the bones and the other will guard the men!"

"That's not what I'm here for," said Holliday, as Younger gave him an I-could-have-told-you-so grin.

"Name your price!" said Cope.

"Just a minute, Professor," said Roosevelt. "Let me confer privately with my friend, and perhaps we can work something out."

Cope nodded his agreement. "I'll be in here, cataloguing some of the finds."

Roosevelt put an arm around Holliday's shoulders and escorted him out in to the open air, stopping only when he was sure they were far enough away that Cope couldn't hear them.

"What the hell's this about, Theodore?" demanded Holliday. "You know why I'm here."

"I know."

"Well, then?" persisted Holliday.

"You heard him, Doc," said Roosevelt. "What'll you do if one of these flesh-eaters shows up right now?"

"Seriously? Run like hell, I suppose."

"I don't think there's a weapon in the world that can stop one, or do more than annoy it," said Roosevelt. "Now, it seems Cope has taken a liking to you, or at least has a use for you...and we both know you're not the easiest man to get along with, even on your good days. So it makes sense that you stay here, and that I go ingratiate myself with Marsh-but before I do that I'll stop by Cheyenne and send a telegram to Tom and Ned, telling them what we may be facing, and that if it comes to pass we're going to need something that will even the odds."

"No matter how you make it sound, the end result is that I'm riding shotgun for this guy," complained Holliday.

"Would you rather ride to Cheyenne in a day, and then approach Marsh on your own?" asked Roosevelt.

Holliday took another swallow from his flask, emptying it. "You know, this project was a lot simpler when it only had me thinking about it," he growled.

"Is that an agreement?" asked Roosevelt, flashing him a grin.

"I'd sooner let the Indians and the dinosaurs eat the whole fucking state than ride another day on that goddamned horse," muttered Holliday.

"Good!" sad Roosevelt. "We'll tell Cope that you agree, and that I've got business elsewhere. Both statements will be true, too."

"Temporarily," said Holliday.

"Temporarily," agreed Roosevelt.

The two men returned to the cabin and informed Cope that he had an extra shootist on his staff after all. It was all Younger could do not to laugh at what he considered Holliday's capitulation. Roosevelt decided to leave at daybreak-he gave Cope a story about some business he had in Cheyenne, which was almost true-and after dinner they sat around the campfire listening to Cope expound on some of the finds he'd made and others he planned to make. His intellect was apparent, and his enthusiasm was boundless, broken only when the topic of Marsh or one of Marsh's finds came up. Finally, since he had a hard day of digging ahead of him, Cope went to the tent he'd set up behind the cabin.

Roosevelt and Younger sat up another hour, then walked to the cluster of tents where the men slept.

Holliday found that he wasn't so much sleepy as thirsty, and since his flask was empty he walked to where he'd left his horse, planning to refill his flask from one of the two bottles he had tucked in his saddlebag.

As he approached his horse, he caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye. Since the horse wasn't nervous, he decided it couldn't be a mountain lion or a bear, and that meant it was a Comanche, here to kill Cope or somehow destroy the cabin.

Holliday began humming aloud on the assumption the warrior wouldn't think people hummed when they were aware of his presence, and began fiddling with the saddle bags.

A few seconds later there was a savage scream designed to startle him into immobility, and a Comanche brave leaped out from the thick shrubbery and came at him with a tomahawk. Holliday ducked and stepped under the horse, and the Comanche raced around the horse to confront him. He calmly pulled his pistol and fired point-blank at his attacker, who gave a surprised grunt and fell to the ground with a bullet between his eyes.

Roosevelt, Younger and most of the men raced out of their tents toward the sound of the gunshot, followed by Cope, who had clearly been awakened and looked like he was still half-asleep.

"Nice shot," said Younger as he examined the body.

"Theodore," said Holliday, "I don't know how many more I can kill before you-know-what happens. You'd better start riding to Cheyenne right now."

Roosevelt seemed about to protest, then thought better of it and nodded his agreement.

"We're sitting ducks out here in the dark," said Younger. "Let's go back to the cabin. Doc, you and I will take turns standing watch."

"First let's go hide this body in the woods," said Holliday, indicating a forest about a mile northeast of camp. "No sense letting his friends know what happened."

It took them about ten minutes to cart the corpse off, hide it under some leaves and branches, and return to camp. Roosevelt had already left.

"I'll sit watch if it's all the same to you," said Holliday.

Younger agreed, leaving Holliday to sit out by a fire, wondering just what he was watching for.

HOLLIDAY AWOKE TO THE SMELL OF BEEF cooking over a fire. He wrinkled his nose, tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't shut out the voices coming from his left.

Finally he sat up, realized he'd been sleeping on a blanket stretched beneath him on the floor of the cabin. He looked around, saw that he was the only person remaining in the cabin, got to his feet, and made his way painfully to the doorway, where he winced at the brightness of the scene before him.

Half a dozen of Cope's men-three white, one black, two Chinese-were squatting around the fire while a Mexican tended to the meat. Cole Younger was standing by the door.

"Good morning, Doc," he said.

"Never saw one yet," growled Holliday.

"Cheer up. We'll have breakfast ready in a couple of minutes."

"Meat?"

"Steaks," said Younger.

"I think I'll drink my breakfast, thanks," muttered Holliday.

"I'll tell Jorge to put on some coffee."

"Don't bother," said Holliday, inhaling the odor of frying meat deeply and fighting back the urge to vomit. "I've got my breakfast right here." He tapped the pocket that contained his flask.

"Too early in the day for me," said Younger.

"Too early in the day for me, too," replied Holliday. "That's why I need a drink."

Younger laughed and gave Holliday a friendly slap on the back. "You're a right funny man! I'm glad we never had to face each other down in Texas."

"Whack me on the back one more time," said Holliday, placing his handkerchief to his mouth and coughing, "and we may face off right here and now."

"Like I said, you're a damned funny feller," said Younger.

"Am I smiling?" replied Holliday. He looked around. "Where's the boss?"

"The Professor?" repeated Younger. "Said he wanted to scout out a site to the north and east of here. He'll be back soon."

"North and east?" said Holliday sharply.

"Yeah."

Holliday pointed. "That way?"

"Right."

"And you let him go?"

"Why not?" asked Younger. "I'm not his keeper."

"That's where we hid the body last night. They've got to know he's missing, and you let Cope go off alone in that direction. I assume he's alone?"

"I never thought of that, Doc," admitted Younger, frowning.

"I also assume he's no marksman?"

"He doesn't even carry a gun."

"All right," said Holliday. "I'll go after him."

"I'll come with you," said Younger.

Holliday shook his head. "Probably nothing'll happen-but if it does we need someone who they'll listen to in order to organize a defense."

Younger nodded. "Yeah, you got a point. We haven't heard any gunfire, so he's probably okay-but if he's not..."

"If he's not, he's dead, and this figures to be their next target," concluded Holliday. "Where the hell's my horse?"

Younger told one of the Chinese to fetch it while Holliday checked his pistol and gun belt.

"You need three or four more bullets, Doc," noted Younger, studying his belt.

"Makes no difference. If I've used so many that I have to reach behind me for the missing ones, I'm already dead."

The man arrived with Holliday's horse.