“Mesabi?” Sandy repeated, frowning. Then, brightening, he exclaimed, “Oh sure. That’s in Minnesota. The ore mines. Mr. Wilson told us all about it in class the other day. Why are you going there instead of to Alaska, Dad?”
John Steele’s face became grave.
“I don’t know how much your teacher told you about the Mesabi iron-ore mines, son. But the truth is that these ore deposits are among our country’s greatest treasures.” His voice turned grim. “And I’m afraid they’re running out.”
Sandy looked perplexed. “But I thought there were whole mountains of ore up there. At least, that’s what Mr. Wilson said.”
“Your teacher’s right, Sandy. But, unfortunately, most of these deposits are of low-grade ore. As the son of a government geologist, you should know what that means.” Sandy nodded soberly and automatically lifted a hand to brush back the cowlick that had fallen forward again. His father continued, “The average iron content of the Mesabi ore has been dropping pretty steadily. If it gets much below 50 per cent, it would be doubtful if it would be worth working. And the Mesabi, son—the Mesabi is the greatest producer of iron ore in the world.”
“Gee,” Sandy said. “That is serious, isn’t it?”
“Couldn’t be worse, son. From iron ore comes steel, and steel is the backbone of any modern nation. That’s why it’s important for somebody to uncover some high-grade deposits. And that,” he said, smiling at the expression of deep seriousness on the face of his son, “that explains why John Steele will spend his summer in Minnesota instead of Alaska.”
Suddenly he laughed. Leaning forward, he ruffled Sandy’s hair.
“Come, now. There are other important things in the world. Such as the score of this afternoon’s game between Valley View and Poplar City. You haven’t told me who won yet.”
Sandy grinned jubilantly. “We did,” he said. “Three to nothing.”