The Dragon in the Cliff by Sheila Cole Page B

you.” She shook her head and corrected herself, “No, he won’t do, too young. Your mama should talk for the family. Oh, if only your papa was alive, he would know how to get the most out of Henley. Richard Anning always knew how to deal with the gentry.”
    Finally, shortly after the new year began, the squire came marching into the shop unannounced. Spying the fossil that was laid out on the workshop floor, he went directly to it and dropped to his knees beside it. “So the talk is true! It really does exist! Amazing!”
    He examined the fossil for some time in silence while I looked on anxiously. “I believe this is the fossil that you had in mind, sir. And as I promised, I have saved it for you.” He grunted and continued his examination. Anxious, I went on, “But I do not think it is a crocodile.”
    At this he looked up. “Why do you say that?” he asked.
    I explained that its shape wasn’t like the picture of a crocodile I had seen in a book. It did not have feet, or at least I could not find them. Also its nostrils were in the wrong position. Then realizing that he might not want it if it was not a crocodile, I added, “But it is a spectacular curiosity, all the same, sir. The biggest I have heard about, seventeen feet when you measure it with all of its vertebrae. You remember, sir, it was the vertebrae that caught your eye that day when you told me that you would buy the creature from me, if ever I found it.”
    â€œYes indeed, it is spectacular. Seventeen feet, you say? It will cause quite a sensation.” Then looking at me sharply, he asked, “Where did you say you found this fossil?”
    Not understanding the importance of the question, I told him that I found it at the far end of Church Cliffs.
    â€œIt was in a piece of the cliff that broke off and fell to the beach, was it not?” he asked.
    â€œYes, sir,” I replied.
    I only understood why he was asking these questions a few minutes later when he offered me twenty pounds, saying, “That would be a fair price for the thing, especially since it was in the cliffs on my land to begin with. Generous I should think.”
    Hearing this figure that was less, much less than I had hoped for and less than Miss Philpot offered, my face reddened and I was upset, though I tried to remain calm.
    Seeing my response, Squire Henley cleared his throat. “No, I think twenty pounds is too little, twenty-three pounds would be a better price.”
    And twenty-three pounds it was. I could do nothing but accept, since he claimed that it came from his land. I was angry at myself for allowing him to get the better of me, and for allowing myself to get carried away with empty dreams. What a fool I had been!
    I heard that Squire Henley bought the crocodile on behalf of Bullock’s Egyptian Hall, a giant exhibition hall in Piccadilly Circus in London. People come there to see the wonders of natural history that Mr. Bullock has collected from the South Seas, North and South America, and Africa. My fossil is their most popular exhibit.

A CHANCE MEETING
    Discovering the crocodile had a profound effect on my life. It not only eased our financial burdens and made me wonder what had happened to the animals whose petrified remains I found, it also led me to become acquainted with a class of people whom I would not ordinarily know, like the Philpot sisters. This, in turn, has led to a coolness in my relations with my neighbors and old acquaintances in town and a rift between Lizzie and me. But I am getting ahead of myself now. Painful though it may be, I have to describe as honestly as I can my meeting with Henry de la Beche (because my relations with him have cost me dearly).
    Not long after Squire Henley purchased the crocodile, sometime during the spring of 1813, I was working alone on an isolated ledge in the area of Black Ven when I had a queer, prickly feeling that someone was watching me. I turned