“I’d like to make a contract with someone to take that dinosaur outside—to sell it.”
“Is it because you are short of money? If you are, I——”
“No,” Dick interrupted, “that isn’t it at all. I want to take out that dinosaur for reasons of my own, Mr. Scott.”
“You’re really serious about this?”
“Never more serious in my life.”
“Well what do you want me to do to help you?”
“First of all, I want your advice. Just for the sake of argument—supposing that it were humanly possible to remove the skeleton from that island—where could one be likely to sell it?”
Mr. Scott pursed his lips and gazed at Dick thoughtfully.
“Well I must confess that that’s a big order. Guess I’ll have to think it over. Have a sleep on it. No, wait a minute! Tell you, Dick, what I’d do if I were in your shoes and really wanted to sell that dinosaur. I’d write to the Canadian Geographical Society at Toronto and get their advice. They know all about such things. Just the sort of project they’d be interested in.”
“Thank you,” said Dick, his eyes shining. “I appreciate your suggestion. Now we come to the really difficult part. Supposing that the society really is interested, how in the name of all that’s worth while am I going to solve the problem of transporting—conveying it outside? Remember the thing must weigh tons.”