“I guess we never would have realized just how valuable Alaska is if the Japanese hadn’t tried to attack us across the Aleutian Islands,” Sandy said.
At that moment, a buzzer sounded and the green light at the front of the cabin began to flash. “Oh-oh,” the corporal said. “Looks like we’re getting ready to land. Fasten your seat belts, folks.” He turned and hurried forward.
Dr. Steele stood up and removed his mackinaw from the overhead rack. As he did so, a big, black, ominous-looking .45 Colt automatic slipped out of one of the pockets and crashed to the floor.
The boys’ eyes widened and Sandy blurted out in shocked surprise, “Where did you get that, Dad?”
Dr. Steele retrieved the gun hastily and stuck it back into his pocket. “Oh—er—something a friend advised me to bring with me. In case we get a chance to do any hunting,” he added.
Sandy frowned. “Hunting with an automatic! That’s crazy, Dad. Wouldn’t a rifle have been more practical?”
A thin smile spread the doctor’s lips. “I suppose you’re right. I should have consulted you before I got it.”
“Just where did you get it, Dad?” Sandy asked suspiciously. “The Colt .45 automatic is an official U.S. Army sidearm.”
There was just the faintest trace of irritation in Dr. Steele’s voice when he answered. “All these questions! You’re beginning to sound like your Aunt Vivian.... Look, we had better fasten our safety belts. We’re going to land.”
“Sure, Dad, sure,” Sandy said. There was something uncommonly mysterious about his father’s behavior, and it worried him.