“Gee, I wish we could come with you,” Sandy said. “That sounds like interesting stuff.”
“Yeah,” Jerry agreed. “We kids in the States never get to see things like that.”
“Why, that’s not so, Jerry,” Professor Crowell objected. “Your American museums and universities contain some of the most fascinating specimens of prehistoric beasts that I’ve ever seen. The last time I visited the American Museum of Natural History in New York I saw the leg of a baby mammoth that was completely intact. It had been preserved for centuries in a glacier, and the museum kept it in a deep freeze.”
“The professor’s right, Jerry,” Sandy admitted. “The trouble with so many of the kids we know is that they’re too lazy to use their eyes and their ears—and their legs.”
Dr. Steele interrupted. “As a matter of fact, did either of you boys know that Black Bart, the notorious stagecoach bandit, is reputed to have buried a strongbox with $40,000 in gold in the hills back of Stockton?”
“Gosh, no!” Jerry exclaimed. “What do you say, Sandy? Let’s go on a treasure hunt next summer. That’s practically in our back yard.”
Professor Crowell smiled. “That beats digging for gold in the Yukon, I’d say.”
“How long will you be in Fairbanks?” Sandy wanted to know.
“Oh, no more than a day,” Dr. Steele said. “We want to get back to Skagway to see you fellows come across the finish line in the big race.”
“In first place, of course,” Jerry added smugly.