Weird West 04 - The Doctor and the Dinosaurs by Mike Resnick Page A

stared at Holliday as if he might start foaming at the mouth momentarily. “All right,” he said at last. “I'm not an unreasonable man. Suppose you tell me what's worse than what I just said.”
    “Whatever it is,” said Holliday with a smile, “you're not going to stab it to death with that dagger you've got in your coat pocket.”
    “Dagger?” said Cope with a puzzled frown. Then, suddenly, he smiled. “Ah! You mean this!” He withdrew a whitish, foot-long pointed object. “You're the dentist. Why don't you tell me what it is?”
    Holliday got painfully to his feet, then walked over.
    “May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.
    “Be my guest.”
    Holliday took it and studied it for a long moment. “If it's what I think it is, I'd hate to see the mouth it came out of.”
    “That's a tooth? ” exclaimed Roosevelt, taking the specimen from Holliday and examining it eagerly.
    “An allosaur tooth,” answered Cope. “Not one of its canines, either.”
    “Can I see it?” said Younger, holding out his hand. Roosevelt reluctantly passed it over. “You know,” continued Younger, “you could make a hell of a dagger out of this.”
    “What the hell kind of critter is an allosaur?” asked Holliday, suddenly interested.
    “A carnivorous dinosaur,” answered Cope. “Probably about the size of an Indian elephant, maybe a little bigger—and a lot faster.”
    “Something with a mouth that held a tooth like that actually existed?” persisted Holliday.
    Cope smiled. “Now do you know why we dig.”
    “What could it possibly have fed on? Surely it would eat its habitat out in a matter of weeks.”
    “How much does an Indian elephant weigh, Mr. Roosevelt?” asked Cope, replacing the tooth in his pocket.
    “Call me Theodore—and I'd guess four and a half tons on average, maybe five at the outside.”
    Cope nodded. “I think the allosaurs weighed about the same. What do you suppose their prey was?”
    “I'm a believer in Mr. Darwin,” answered Roosevelt, “so I know the elk and moose of today are the end results of evolution. I assume the owner of that tooth fed on an earlier version.”
    “And they would weigh what?” asked Cope.
    “Maybe a ton,” said Roosevelt. “A ton and a half at the outside.”
    “Well, I hate to disillusion you, Theodore,” said Cope, “but so far we haven't found the remains—the fossils—of any mammals anywhere on Earth that are as old as the dinosaurs.” He paused and shook his head. “No, our friend the allosaur almost certainly went after other dinosaurs for his dinner.” He paused thoughtfully. “In fact, they very possibly hunted in packs.”
    “Excuse me for butting in,” said Holliday, “but why would a four-ton carnivore need to hunt in packs? Seems to me he'd run out of food soon enough as a lone predator.”
    “Let me show you,” said Cope, squatting down and using the tooth to create a rough drawing of a sauropod in the dirt. “We call this one a brontosaur, but he had a lot of similar-looking relatives.”
    “For a prey animal, he sure doesn't look like he's built for speed,” opined Roosevelt.
    “He isn't,” answered Cope, still amused. “How much do you think he weighs, Theodore?”
    Roosevelt shrugged. “Thick legs, all that neck and tail,” he mused. “I'd say three thousand pounds.”
    “Doc?” asked Cope.
    Holliday studied the drawing for another moment. “If he's really got the belly you gave him, maybe two tons.”
    “Cole?”
    “I'm with Doc on this,” answered Younger. “Maybe four thousand pounds.”
    Cope laughed.
    “What's so damned funny?” asked Holliday.
    “The smaller adults weighed a hundred thousand pounds,” said Cope. “Based on the bones we've unearthed, the big ones, the bulls so to speak, went about seventy-five tons, maybe a little more.”
    “You're kidding!” exclaimed Holliday.
    “Not at all,” replied Cope. “Now do you understand why the allosaurs hunted in packs? One swipe of that brontosaur