Uncle Scrooge's bones creaked with age, and his hands trembled with palsy as the ducks helped him totter to the royal palace of Khunza, where he felt he must personally interview the most ancient Khunzan of them all - the royal treasurer.
On the way his nephews became curious. »How old are you, Uncle Scrooge?« asked one.
»Too old!« yelled the old duck. »But so what? I've always been too busy to keep track of birthdays.«
Another asked: »You made your first fortune selling surplus cannons from the Boer War?«
»Humph!« snorted Scrooge. »I was rich before then. I was a bonanza king on the Comstock Lode! I took millions out of the Klondike!«
»Say no more,« said his nephews. »By our figures, you are already as old as these walking fossils of Khunza.«
»It isn't how old I am,« bellowed Scrooge. »It's how old I have to be that matters!«
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