“Look! Past the truck. Near those evergreens!”
“What is it, Chuck?” Owen stood up and peered over the windshield, his eyes serious.
“Stegosaurs!” Chuck said. “He’s leading us right at them, Owen. A herd of stegosaurs!”
Chapter 4
Hasty Flight
At almost the same instant, Masterson stuck his head from the cab of the truck, a beaming smile covering his face. “Look at that!” he shouted. “There are some dinosaurs for you!”
The stegosaurs were still nothing more than huge, grayish blobs set against the thick green background. Chuck looked at them again, squinting his eyes for a better view. The vehicles kept moving closer to the grazing herd.
“Turn back!” Owen shouted, his voice shrill and piercing. “Those animals can be dangerous, Masterson.”
Masterson began laughing — a highly, penetrating laugh that echoed over the land.
“Masterson!” Owen shouted.
Masterson did not answer. The truck kept moving forward, and Chuck found himself unable to sit still. He kept his eyes glued to the herd. He jiggled his feet against the floor board of the jeep, clenched and unclenched his fists, nibbled at his lower lip. They were much closer now, far too close for comfort.
“Masterson!” Owen shouted again.
Masterson’s head appeared. “What is it, Spencer?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing. Those brutes...”
“Brutes?” Masterson scoffed. “They’re eating grass, Spencer. They’re just big cows, that’s all.”
Owen shouted, “They’re plant eaters, yes — but even herbivorous animals can stampede. Masterson, can’t you...” He stopped talking as Masterson’s head disappeared within the cab. He turned to Chuck in exasperation, a tired expression pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“We can’t stop him, Chuck,” he said. “It’s no use.”
“Maybe... maybe it’ll be all right. They are plant eaters.”
“Sure,” Owen said, “but take a look at them.” He pointed over the windshield, and Chuck followed the line his arm and outstretched finger made.
The stegosaurs were huge, truly huge. They stood on the horizon like enormous gray boulders. Chuck stared at the grotesque brutes. They were something out of a madman’s imagination, something to tax the most creative mind. Their heads were close to the ground, small beaklike affairs that nibbled at the plants. Two short legs supported the front end of the beast, and from there on nature seemed to go berserk. Arcing up from the head in a high, curving line, the animal’s back rose like a half-submerged island. Two rows of jutting plates, hard bones that stood out on the creature’s back like a low mountain range, ran from the back of the head down the length of the tail. The tail was long and powerful, and where the bone plates ended, several sets of sharp, pointed spikes rose up to take their place. Chuck estimated the length of the stegosaurs at somewhere between fifteen and eighteen feet. The animals tilted forward precariously like clowns walking on their hands. Their hind legs were easily twice as long as their forelegs, giving them a peculiar off-balance look, as if they would fall forward on their small, hard faces at any moment. They moved ponderously, working their way among the plants, nibbling, moving on to another plant, nibbling again.
Chuck knew that the brains of these animals weighed no more than two and a half ounces, judging from the scientific measurement of the cranial cavity. He knew, too, that their total weight was greater than that of any elephant, and that an elephant’s brain averaged about eight pounds — sometimes going as high as eleven pounds. The weight of an elephant’s brain was seventy times that of a stegosaur’s. This gave the stegosaur an intelligence approximately equal to that of a three weeks’ old kitten, comparing size for size.
Chuck stared at the powerful tail with its spiked end, knowing this tail could be wielded with lethal effectiveness. In an age of reptiles with gashing teeth and ripping claws, in an age where flesh-eating dinosaurs ranged the earth preying on their weaker numbers, the stegosaur’s only weapon was his effective armor plate and his powerful tail. Chuck shuddered as he thought of it in action. Then he realized just how close they were to the animals.
“Owen! For Pete’s sake, he’s practically driving into their mouths!”
Owen was about to answer when the truck ahead squealed to a stop, the tires gripping futilely at the slippery vegetation. Masterson leaped from the cab, the gun clutched tightly in one hand. He began walking back toward the jeep, his hat tilted back on his head, his black curly hair spilling over onto his forehead.
“Hey, Spencer!” he called.
Owen climbed down out of the jeep, his eyes on the quietly grazing herd less than a hundred yards away.
“What is it?” he asked.
“These animals. What do you call them?”
“Stegosaurs,” Owen answered. “They’re dangerous, Masterson. They can use their tails like...”
“What was that name again?”
“Stegosaurs.”
“Does the name mean anything?”
“Yes. It means ‘roofed lizard.’”
“Say,” Masterson said. “That’s clever. With all those bones sticking out of his back, I can see where he got the name. Roofed lizard, huh?”
Owen tried a new tack. “Look, Mr. Masterson, let’s turn around and get out of here. These babies are nothing to play with, believe me.”
“I don’t intend playing with them,” Masterson said sharply. “Roofed lizard,” he repeated, apparently fascinated by the name. An engaging grin broke over his face, spilling white teeth onto his ruddy features. “How would you like a roofed lizard for one of your museums?”
“We’ve got some, thanks,” Owen said. “There’s a beautifully mounted skeleton in the Yale University Museum, for that matter. And there are...”
“A skeleton,” Masterson said, still smiling. “I mean the real McCoy. A trophy. Flesh and bones, Spencer. How does that appeal to you?”
“It doesn’t. It’s against the law, Masterson, and you know it.”
The smile dropped from Masterson’s face, and his lips set in a tight line. “Laws are made to be broken,” he said.
“That’s where we don’t see eye to eye,” Owen answered.
“And that’s what makes horse races,” Masterson countered.
Chuck watched Owen’s fists clench into tight, hard balls and he fully expected his brother to haul off at Masterson. Instead, Owen calmly replied, “It’s a little difficult to think of man-made laws when you’re so far away from them, Masterson. I warn you, though, that the punishment for what you plan to do is extremely severe. If I were you, I’d turn that truck around and head back to the rendezvous site.”
“He’s right, Mr. Masterson,” Arthur said from behind the wheel of the jeep.
Masterson turned slowly, his eyes cold. “I think,” he said slowly, “that you’d best keep your opinions to yourself, Arthur.” He turned back to Owen and said, “I’m going to shoot one of your roofed lizards, Spencer. Right between the eyes.”
“Think you’ll be able to do it?” Owen asked.
Masterson began chuckling, and Chuck looked in amazement at this man whose emotions could range from seething hatred to jocularity in the space of ten seconds. “This gun could fell a charging elephant, Spencer,” he said, holding out his weapon.
“These aren’t elephants,” Owen said. “A stegosaur has more armor than a heavy tank!”
Masterson smiled charmingly. “I’ve stopped tanks in my time, too, Spencer. Just watch me.” He turned crisply, striding away from the jeep, heading back for the truck with long steps.
“He’s crazy,” Chuck blurted. “He’s absolutely out of his mind!”