“Yes. You’re not squeamish about eating it, are you?”
“Uh, no!” Jerry assured him. “After some of the things I’ve been eating since I came to Alaska, bear sounds like steak to me.”
“It’s better,” Stern told him. “You wait and see.”
“Did you shoot the bear, sir?” Sandy asked.
“No, we haven’t been out yet. This is a piece of meat we’ve had in the freezer since last year.”
Jerry laughed. “You’re kidding. What do you need a freezer for up here?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, young fellow. It so happens that the old joke about selling ice-boxes to Eskimos isn’t such a joke any more. During the war, the Army discovered it was a lot more practical to keep food in freezers than it was to stow it in a shed outside. You see, the temperature drops to sixty and seventy below zero some nights in this country. That’s about forty to fifty degrees lower than the coldest deep freeze. At that temperature food takes hours to thaw out. In the freezer, it keeps just right.”
Jerry shook his head. “Can you beat that! Next thing you know, the Arabs on the Sahara desert will be turning to steam heat.”
They followed Stern along a path to the back door of the lodge. Mrs. Stern, a young woman in ski pants and sweater, was in the kitchen basting the roast when they came in. “Supper will be another hour yet,” she apologized. “I hope you boys can hold out.”
“That’s good,” Stern said. “Russ Parker will be along later.” He turned to the boys. “Come on inside and meet Chris Hanson and his wife. They’ll be spending a few days with us too.”