“What’s the difference between Mammoths and Mastodons?”
“Teeth,” was the succinct reply. “The Mastodons had chopping teeth, the Mammoths had grinding teeth. You can tell them apart at once. The tusks of the Mastodon were more often straight, those of the Mammoth frequently curved inward.”
“Which was the bigger?”
“The biggest of the Mastodons was heavier than the biggest of the Mammoths, but more stockily built. The Mammoth was taller. The most imposing of them all was the Imperial Mammoth of North America, thirteen feet six inches at the shoulder, with huge incurving tusks. But if it came to fighting, I would place my faith on the American Mastodon.”
“A scrap between those two would be worth watching,” cried Perry, his eyes sparkling.
“They wouldn’t be likely to meet,” said his uncle; “one lived in the north on the frozen plains, the other preferred warmer climates and forested lands.”
“Talking of fighting, I was in the Museum the other day,” said Perry, “when a terrific thunderstorm came up, and it got almost as dark in there as if it were night. A terrific flash of lightning came, and in the blaze, I had a sudden start, as though one of the skeletons had moved. The crash of thunder that followed seemed like a thousand beasts roaring all together. And I had a quick feeling of wonder as to what would happen if all those monsters should suddenly become alive and start ructions with each other.”
“It would be exciting, certainly,” said the professor.
“I’d want my camera,” rejoined Perry eagerly.
“Would you?” said the professor. “I’d run!”