How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex Read Online Free

do thank you for clarifying your status, Lieutenant Martin. I could not imagine welcoming a deserter into our midst.”
    “Indeed,” Martin replied with a wide grin. “Rest assured, I have been granted leave by Commander Fawcett himself.”
    “Fawcett,” Kermit said. “Percy Fawcett? What is he occupied with nowadays?   Train-sized anacondas? Five-headed frogs?”
    “Kermit!” Roosevelt cautioned with a raised finger. “Lieutenant Colonel Percy Fawcett is a greatly respected mapmaker and explorer. He has been trekking through many parts of the Amazon for years and has added numerous and previously unknown chapters to our understanding of this continent. He is a man who should be offered the utmost respect.”
    Kermit Roosevelt shrugged.
    Teddy Roosevelt grimaced at his son’s gentle insolence. Turning back to Martin, he asked, “And on what particular mission did you part with Commander Fawcett?”
    Roosevelt noticed a bit of hesitation on Martin’s part. He watched the man’s eyes dance between himself and upon Rondon’s tea. “Your stark appearance,” Roosevelt continued, “has robbed me of my manners it appears, dear sir. Would you care to share in our breakfast? Perhaps you would like some coffee, or a biscuit and beans?”
    “I’m afraid even a small sample of your diet would make me quite ill at this moment, since I’ve grown accustomed to the native’s fare spanning several years. But a spot of tea would be lovely.”
    “Of course…”
    Colonel Rondon poured Martin a cup of tea. Martin tipped his cup back and took a long sip. Roosevelt watched Martin’s eyes close slowly as if attaining pure nirvana.
    “I was inquiring about your mission with Commander Fawcett?”
    “Oh, oh yes, Colonel.” Martin took another sip. “I was part of Fawcett’s expedition that mapped the Rio Verde.”
    “Then, is Fawcett currently in the Amazon?”
    “That is a question that I cannot rightfully answer. My last contact with Commander Fawcett was… hmmm… five summers ago by my reckoning.”
    “Five years!”
    “And I have not heard news of him since.”
    “Then you have not lived in total isolation?” Kermit asked.
    “I have never stated such, yet I have taken up with the Nhambiquara as well as several other tribes, some of which I’m certain even Colonel Rondon has yet to make contact.”
    Rondon shook his head. “How is it possible to stay hidden in the Amazon for so long? I have never been informed of any white man living amongst the natives. News travels slowly in the wilderness, but it does proliferate, nonetheless.”
    Martin smiled widely, still maintaining eye contact with Roosevelt. “Perhaps Colonel Rondon’s sources are somewhat inadequate.”
    Cândido Mariano Rondon slowly poured his cup’s contents onto the campfire’s flames scattering sizzling drops across the searing embers. Kermit and Cherrie exchanged wide-eyed glances.
    Theodore Roosevelt’s welcoming face suddenly straightened. “There is no call for insolence, Mister Martin.”
    “My humble apologies… It was not my intent to insult Colonel Rondon or anyone else in your expedition. I was simply offering some justification for adding me to your intrepid troupe.”
    “And exactly what are those qualifications?” Kermit asked.
      Martin waved his hand toward the Nhambiquara. “I have studied these people and have lived amongst them. I know their language and, most important of all, they have accepted me into their culture.”
    Roosevelt rubbed his chin. “Indeed, that is impressive on its face.”
    “And what else?” George Cherrie asked.
    “I have a Doctorate in Social Anthropology from Cambridge University, bestowed graciously in the year of our Lord, Eighteen hundred and ninety-eight.”
    Cherrie raised a brow. Kermit poked at the fire.
    “An Anthropologist,” Roosevelt said, eyeing Rondon for reaction. “Then, should we address you as Doctor, Mr. Martin?”
    “With all respect, referring to me as Martin or