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away.
    “We’ll come by in the morning and take stock of everything,” Doug Lindstrom said.
    “Why not make it in a couple of days instead,” Mom put forward. “Give yourselves a break.”
    Dad added, “Libby’s right. We’ll get to it over the next few days.”
    Daniel silently agreed. Even if Dr. Roost or Mr. Pederson came for breakfast, it would still be a nice change not to have an extra family around all the time as they’d done every day of the summer. Besides, now that the theft had happened, the planned prospecting tour for the next morning was called off.
    Doug leaned out of his truck window. “Thanks, Ed. We could use a bit of time to get back on track at home before school starts.”
    Doug and Ed shook hands, and the Lindstroms pulled out of the driveway, with everyone waving from the crew-cab truck and Dactyl barking at the shouts from the youngest children.
    “I’m going to head over to see how Mr. Pederson’s doing,” said Daniel.
    “Don’t be long,” said Dad. “We still have evening chores to do and it looks like it’s you and me tonight, son.”
    “Ask if there’s anything we can do for Mr. Pederson,” Mom suggested.
    “I will. See you soon.” Daniel whistled for Dactyl, who trotted up in moments. His dog was the only one that had any bounce left in him.
    “Come on, boy!” Daniel gave his pet a scratch behind the ears and they set off.
    All was silent as Daniel approached Mr. Pederson’s shack. Should he disturb him? But then he remembered how two winters earlier Mr. Pederson had been quite ill. He probably wasn’t anywhere near that sick right now, but still it would be good to see how he was doing.
    Crunched into the side of the hill with a lean-to attached and desperately needing some paint, Pederson’s place wasn’t much to look at, Daniel thought, but its rough look also kept intruders out. As they neared the door, Dactyl noticed some movement in the brush close to the shack and wandered off to investigate.
    Daniel knocked on the solid, rough-hewn door, quietly at first, and listened for a response. Then he banged louder and thought he heard a weak, “Come in.”
    The door creaked as he entered and stared into the gloom. Mr. Pederson lay on his cot in one corner of the room, but made no move to rise. Daniel walked over to his side. His friend seemed frailer than ever, his face sunken in.
    “You okay, Mr. Pederson?” he asked.
    “Just extremely tired,” admitted the older man.
    “Have you eaten today? Would you like me to make you something?” Daniel asked.
    “Some tea and some cheese and biscuits would be nice.” Mr. Pederson pointed to a cooler on the floor. “You’ll find the food in there. Tea’s in the thermos on the table. I brought it from town. I haven’t bothered turning on a generator for power.”
    As Daniel bustled about preparing the snack, Pederson shuffled over to the table, but neither spoke of matters on their minds. Pederson’s hands trembled as he accepted the cup of tea and nibbled on the crackers and cheese. His coughing seemed to have subsided, though, and Daniel thought that was a good sign, but the old man didn’t seem to want to talk.
    “Mom wants to know if you need anything.”
    “Only the Stygimoloch back.” He grimaced and set his cup of tea down.
    Neither one of them mentioned that even if the Stygimoloch fossils did turn up, there was no telling what condition they’d be in, but they were both thinking it. Daniel hated to see his old friend so miserable. Something had to be done to perk Mr. Pederson up.
    Without thinking it through, Daniel blurted out. “How would you like to see the real thing?”
    An instant sparkle lit up Mr. Pederson’s eyes.
    “You know I would.” He tilted his head and looked at Daniel. “So you still have what you need to go back to the past?” he asked.
    Daniel nodded.
    “Grand!” Mr. Pederson sat up a little straighter. “Let’s talk about how I can go.”
    “How we can go,” corrected