Read Online Mad Scientists' Club by Bertrand R. Brinley, Charles Geer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bertrand R. Brinley, Charles Geer
Tags: Fiction, Science Clubs
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imagine Harmon has told him everything, and he's hoping to find some evidence connecting Mayor Scragg with the stolen money," said Henry.
"They've got to get it out of the cannon first," Jeff answered. "Let's see if we can find out what happened up there."
We crept forward through the brush, trying to be as quiet as possible. When we got up close to the clearing we stopped and peered out through the bushes. A tall, gaunt man was standing beside the cannon, shading his eyes from the morning sun as he looked down the hill toward the road. A long and ancient-looking squirrel rifle was grasped in his right hand.
"Elmer Pridgin!" Jeff whispered. "He must have fired that shot."
"I guess Mortimer was right," I said. "I wonder why he's so cranky about that old cannon?"
"I don't know, but I think we'd better clear out of here," Jeff hissed back. "He must be the one that was out here at midnight."
We skirted the clearing, picked up the other guys, and beat it back to town. "I think things are going to pop wide open now," Henry told us as we pedaled along the Old South Road. "We've got to work fast."
Henry was right. Daphne Muldoon was waiting for us at the clubhouse when we got back. She'd been looking all over town for Homer, and her pretty face was all screwed up into a worried frown.
"Abner Sharples knows all about the old cannon and the money," she complained. "He's going to tell it all to the newspaper, and there goes my story!"
"You can thank your blabbermouth brother for that," said Freddy Muldoon.
"He doesn't know everything," Homer put in. "I bet he'd like to see this picture," and he waved a copy the photograph of the inside of the cannon in front of Daphne's face.
"Maybe it would be a good idea if he did!" came a voice from the corner.
We all turned around to look at Henry, who was leaning back on his piano stool, looking up at the rafters again. There was a look of evil genius on his face.
Two hours later, Daphne and Homer just happened to be among the tiny knot of curious spectators gathered outside the door of the Town Council meeting room when Abner Sharples appeared to urge the Council to investigate the mystery of the old cannon. Homer just happened to drop the photograph out of the folder he was carrying, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Harmon Muldoon pounce upon it and scoop it up. A moment later he was in excited consultation with Abner Sharples in a corner of the room.
When Homer took off to join the rest of us, Abner Sharples, sweating and puffing, was in the midst of one of his spellbinding political harangues. He was waving the photograph in the faces of the Council, and claiming it represented clinching evidence that the grandfather of Alonzo Scragg had been implicated in the unsolved bank robbery.
Meanwhile the rest of us were bouncing along through the dust and ruts of Turkey Run Road in Zeke Boniface's decrepit old junk truck. Turkey Run Road winds around behind Brake Hill, and Henry figured we'd attract less attention if we went that way. Zeke sat at the wheel of Richard the Deep Breather and wrestled it manfully around the curves of the winding road. The crunched black derby that he always wore over the bald spot on his head bounced up and down, and the ashes from his cigar dropped unheeded onto the front of his grease-stained undershirt. We always admired the way Zeke could shift that cigar from one side of his mouth to the other without using any hands.
Henry and Jeff had decided to take Zeke into our confidence. We needed some heavy equipment for the job Henry had in mind, and Zeke always had plenty of block-and-tackle kicking around his junk yard, as well as an overhead crane for lifting engines out of junk cars. Besides, Zeke has a strong back and always keeps his mouth shut.
Zeke brought Richard the Deep Breather to a puffing halt on a signal from Jeff, and Dinky Poore and Freddy Muldoon scrambled off the tailgate. Jeff gave them some last-minute instructions and then sent
"They've got to get it out of the cannon first," Jeff answered. "Let's see if we can find out what happened up there."
We crept forward through the brush, trying to be as quiet as possible. When we got up close to the clearing we stopped and peered out through the bushes. A tall, gaunt man was standing beside the cannon, shading his eyes from the morning sun as he looked down the hill toward the road. A long and ancient-looking squirrel rifle was grasped in his right hand.
"Elmer Pridgin!" Jeff whispered. "He must have fired that shot."
"I guess Mortimer was right," I said. "I wonder why he's so cranky about that old cannon?"
"I don't know, but I think we'd better clear out of here," Jeff hissed back. "He must be the one that was out here at midnight."
We skirted the clearing, picked up the other guys, and beat it back to town. "I think things are going to pop wide open now," Henry told us as we pedaled along the Old South Road. "We've got to work fast."
Henry was right. Daphne Muldoon was waiting for us at the clubhouse when we got back. She'd been looking all over town for Homer, and her pretty face was all screwed up into a worried frown.
"Abner Sharples knows all about the old cannon and the money," she complained. "He's going to tell it all to the newspaper, and there goes my story!"
"You can thank your blabbermouth brother for that," said Freddy Muldoon.
"He doesn't know everything," Homer put in. "I bet he'd like to see this picture," and he waved a copy the photograph of the inside of the cannon in front of Daphne's face.
"Maybe it would be a good idea if he did!" came a voice from the corner.
We all turned around to look at Henry, who was leaning back on his piano stool, looking up at the rafters again. There was a look of evil genius on his face.
Two hours later, Daphne and Homer just happened to be among the tiny knot of curious spectators gathered outside the door of the Town Council meeting room when Abner Sharples appeared to urge the Council to investigate the mystery of the old cannon. Homer just happened to drop the photograph out of the folder he was carrying, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Harmon Muldoon pounce upon it and scoop it up. A moment later he was in excited consultation with Abner Sharples in a corner of the room.
When Homer took off to join the rest of us, Abner Sharples, sweating and puffing, was in the midst of one of his spellbinding political harangues. He was waving the photograph in the faces of the Council, and claiming it represented clinching evidence that the grandfather of Alonzo Scragg had been implicated in the unsolved bank robbery.
Meanwhile the rest of us were bouncing along through the dust and ruts of Turkey Run Road in Zeke Boniface's decrepit old junk truck. Turkey Run Road winds around behind Brake Hill, and Henry figured we'd attract less attention if we went that way. Zeke sat at the wheel of Richard the Deep Breather and wrestled it manfully around the curves of the winding road. The crunched black derby that he always wore over the bald spot on his head bounced up and down, and the ashes from his cigar dropped unheeded onto the front of his grease-stained undershirt. We always admired the way Zeke could shift that cigar from one side of his mouth to the other without using any hands.
Henry and Jeff had decided to take Zeke into our confidence. We needed some heavy equipment for the job Henry had in mind, and Zeke always had plenty of block-and-tackle kicking around his junk yard, as well as an overhead crane for lifting engines out of junk cars. Besides, Zeke has a strong back and always keeps his mouth shut.
Zeke brought Richard the Deep Breather to a puffing halt on a signal from Jeff, and Dinky Poore and Freddy Muldoon scrambled off the tailgate. Jeff gave them some last-minute instructions and then sent
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