“You—you see nothing funny?” he gasped.
“I do not!”
“What do you think of our friend, the dinosaur?” and Dick indulged in another convulsive chuckle.
Sandy’s eyes flashed fire.
“Say—”
“Look at it! Look at it!” shrieked Dick. “Its size! Must weigh tons—tons, Sandy. And—we’ve come—three hundred miles—laboring under impression—going to carry it back on a raft.”
“Well—”
“On a raft,” continued Dick. “That thing on a raft. If you can, just get that picture in that slow mind of yours.”
Toma was grinning broadly now.
“The portages,” he wondered.