by Gary Paulsen
OTHER YEARLING BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY:
THE COOKCAMP, Gary Paulsen
THE VOYAGE OF THE FROG, Gary Paulsen
THE BOY WHO OWNED THE SCHOOL, Gary Paulsen
HOW TO EAT FRIED WORMS, Thomas Rockwell
HOW TO FIGHT A GIRL, Thomas Rockwell
HOW TO GET FABULOUSLY RICH, Thomas Rockwell
CHOCOLATE FEVER, Robert Kimmel Smith
BOBBY BASEBALL, Robert Kimmel Smith
IT’S A WEIRD, WEIRD SCHOOL, Stephen Mooser
THE HITCHHIKING VAMPIRE, Stephen Mooser
YEARLING BOOKS/YOUNG YEARLINGS/YEARLING CLASSICS are designed especially to entertain and enlighten young people. Patricia Reilly Giff, consultant to this series, received her bachelor’s degree from Marymount College and a master’s degree in history from St. John’s University. She holds a Professional Diploma in Reading and a Doctorate of Humane Letters from Hofstra University. She was a teacher and reading consultant for many years, and is the author of numerous books for young readers.
For a complete listing of all Yearling titles,
write to Dell Readers Service,
P.O. Box 1045,
South Holland, IL 60473.
Published by
Dell Publishing
a division of
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
666 Fifth Avenue
New York, New York 10103
Copyright © 1993 by Gary Paulsen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
The trademark Yearling® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
The trademark Dell® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
eISBN: 978-0-307-80376-4
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Other Yearling Books You Will Enjoy
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper sat on the living-room floor in his best friend for life’s house, Amos.
Amos had baby-sitting duty today. His parents left him strict instructions. Visiting little cousins are human. No pounding, teasing, tormenting, name-calling, locking in the closet, or any other cruel or unusual punishment. They had taped a list to the refrigerator door. It was two pages of things Amos couldn’t do to his baby cousin. Luckily, the list did not include making a play area by wrapping a volleyball net around the dining-room table legs and keeping the baby in one spot that way.
Amos and Dunc were sitting on the living-room floor involved in a serious contest to determine who could stuff the most Oreo cookies inside his mouth without crunching them. Dunc had worked up to eleven but Amos was going for twelve when it happened.
The phone rang.
“It’s her!” Amos yelled, or tried to yell. With twelve cookies in his mouth it came out, “Uuufffer!”
Instinct took over. It was probably not genetic codes—as Dunc thought—but for whatever reason, when Amos heard a phone ring, he assumed it was for him, assumed it was Melissa Hansen trying to call him, just him. Amos loved Melissa Hansen with all his heart, lived and died for Melissa Hansen and she didn’t consider him at all. Ever.
But when the phone rang he couldn’t help it. He had to answer it on the first ring, on that all-important first ring or he was afraid she would hang up. It didn’t matter anymore that it was probably not Melissa—instinct had taken over. When the phone rang, he moved. And heaven help anybody in his way.
Dunc rolled sideways to get clear.
Amos came up in great form, powered by his right leg, left leg kicking back hard. Reflex told him where the nearest phone lay—exactly four point three meters due east, on the lamp table in the corner of the dining room.
He would have made it.
Even Dunc said later he would have made it.
But he hung his right toe under the edge of the couch. It didn’t stay there—just hung for a fraction of a second. But it was enough. His body weight kept moving and he started down.
Even then he would have cleared it, perhaps made the phone. But there was a goldfish bowl on the end table by the couch and showing the same classic form, he drove his head into the bowl, cartwheeled just once—without spilling a drop or killing the fish—and piled into the volleyball net under the table to land in a heap next to his baby cousin.
The baby laughed and clapped his hands.
Dunc answered the phone, listened, said, “No thank you,” and hung up. “It was a sales-person—they wanted to sell you a set of automobile manuals. I hope you didn’t want them.”
Amos signaled frantically for Dunc to pull the goldfish bowl off his head. He had opened his mouth and Oreo crumbs were filtering out. The goldfish were nibbling at them.
Dunc nodded and grabbed hold, then pulled the bowl off. Amos put the bowl back on the table and stood, brushing water and mushy Oreo pieces out of his hair. “I almost made it this time. Did you see how I corrected my forward body motion when I started to fall? I would have made it if the couch hadn’t been there. Oh well, I’m glad she called, even if I didn’t get to talk to her.”
Dunc shook his head. “Didn’t you hear me? It was a salesperson … well, never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
A car drove up outside and Amos nodded. “My folks. Maybe we’d better head on down to the mall before they get in here.”
“But the baby.”
“He’ll be fine until they get in the house. That net will hold him.”
“He’s eating a goldfish.”
“So? It’s good protein. Come on.”
Amos headed for the rear door. Dunc held back until Amos’s parents were in the house before leaving the room just as the baby swallowed the fish.
“I can’t go to the mall.” They were riding downtown, lifting their front tires over cracks in the sidewalks. Dunc hit his brakes. “I just remembered. I told Dad I would deliver these real estate papers for him. Some lady wants a map of the retirement village. It won’t take long. Want to come?”
They turned around and pedaled their bikes across town and down a country lane on the west side. By the time they got to the house where the old lady lived, it was midafternoon.
“You didn’t tell me we were going to go all the way to China,” Amos shouted at Dunc, who had finally stopped up the road in front of an old rusty gate.
“We’re here. I think. At least this is the address on the paper.”
Amos looked past the gate to the old weather-beaten house. It stood at least two stories tall and was badly in need of a coat of paint. White curtains flapped in the open windows like dancing ghosts.
“It looks kinda spooky to me Dunc. I don’t think anybody even lives here.”
“Well, this is the address. Come on.”
Dunc knocked on a front door that seemed ready to fall off its hinges. He was about to turn and leave when the door opened just a bit.
“What do you want?” a loud male voice boomed through the crack.
“We, ah—we are looking for the Dell house. These papers are for Mrs. Betsy Dell,” stammered Dunc.
“I’ll take those,” the voice said.
“I was told to make sure and
give them to Mrs. Dell personally.”
The door slammed shut.
“Real friendly people your dad does business with. Why didn’t you just give the man the papers so we could get out of here?” Amos said.
“Don’t you think that something’s wrong here? That guy was pretty weird.” Dunc wrinkled his eyebrows and stared at the house.
“Oh, no. I’ve seen that look before. Let’s go before you get me into something we’ll both regret.”
“Let’s just take a look around first. Then I promise we’ll go.” Dunc headed off the front porch and back around the side toward an old shed.
“Right.” Amos sighed.
But he followed.
“Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got,” Dunc said in his most sleuthlike voice.
“We don’t have anything,” Amos said as he looked over his friend’s shoulder at the list he was making. “Yesterday you found some soft dirt in an old lady’s shed, with a shovel nearby. So what? It could be anything—we wouldn’t have even gone in that shed if you hadn’t been so nosy.”
“Suspicious,” Dunc corrected and scratched his head and looked up at Amos. “Doesn’t it seem funny to you that we couldn’t get past that creepy guy to see Mrs. Dell? On top of that, we find very fresh, soft dirt in the shed, where someone obviously buried something—or someone.”
Amos shook his head. “No, it doesn’t seem funny to me at all. Those things can both be easily explained. Besides, if you’re really all that concerned, why don’t you just call the police and let them check it out?”
“We need to tie it all together so we have enough evidence to nab the creep.”
“Stop talking like that. I’ve told you before, you watch too many cop shows.”
“Look Amos, I told my dad. He wasn’t concerned. I don’t think the cops will be either—yet.”
“I can understand that. I’m not concerned and I’ve been in on it right from the start. Come on, let’s go down to the river or play video games or something normal for a change.”
Dunc wasn’t paying any attention. He was thinking out loud. “What we need is a plan. We could scale the wall and climb in a top-story window. Or maybe we could learn karate and take the guy out.”
Amos shook his head. His friend’s crazy ideas were nothing new, but this time he had his mind made up. Nothing could make him get involved in this. Not even an army could force him to take on that guy who had yelled through the crack in the door. If there was something weird going on out there, he was certainly not going to be involved in it. No way.
Dunc had that strange look on his face. “I think I know how to do it. It won’t be hard at all. In fact, you’ll probably enjoy your part.”
“You never listen to me Duncan Culpepper.”
Dunc put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I always listen to you. Didn’t I help you get a good grade in Trasky’s class on your Civil War paper? Don’t I always try to help you get Melissa to notice you, even though she’d rather you would drop dead? Listening is one of my best points. I just need your cooperation in one tiny little area and after that we’re home free.”
Amos eyed him suspiciously. “I know I’m going to be sorry for asking you this, but what exactly do you have in mind?”
“I was hoping you’d ask. We have to get inside that house and look around.”
Amos shook his head. “I’m not dressing up like a girl again, so just forget that.”
“No, no, nothing like that. One of us will have to distract the creep inside while the other one sneaks around back.”
“Let me just guess who gets to take on the creep.”
“I would do it Amos, really I would, but he’s already seen me. Besides, I’m only trying to help you.”
“Help me? How do you figure that?”
“Well, if this deal works out, like I’m sure it will, you’re going to play the most important part in rescuing a helpless little old lady from who knows what awful fate. Some girls really go for the hero type.”
“Some girls …”
“Melissa. Maybe.”
“Melissa …”
Dunc stopped then. He knew when he’d won.
“Do you remember what you’re going to do?”
“Of course I remember. How could anybody dressed like this forget what they’re supposed to do?”
Dunc looked his friend up and down. Amos was wearing a red jacket with a double row of black buttons down the front. On his head was a round red hat with black elastic holding it on under his chin. “I think you really look the part, but try to be careful with the hat and coat, okay? I borrowed them from Melissa Hansen’s mother. Her cousin used to do this for a living.”
“Melissa Hansen? You saw Melissa?”
“Just for a second. I remembered her mother telling my mother that she had a cousin who delivered singing telegrams, so I borrowed the suit. Roll up the sleeves a little.”
“You went to Melissa’s house without me?”
“I had to borrow the suit Amos. Don’t worry, maybe you can help me take it back. Let’s get down to business. Why don’t you practice your part one more time, okay?”
“Man, I can’t believe you actually went to her house and didn’t tell me …”
“Amos, pay attention. Let’s practice your part.”
“What did she say? Did she ask about me at all?”
“No, but I really wasn’t there all that long. Are you going to practice or what?”
“Okay, but only if you give me your solemn promise to let me take the suit back with you. Promise?”
“I promise. Now, do your part.”
“Dunc, I really don’t sing so hot. Can’t I just talk the guy a message?”
“No. We’ve been over and over this. Nobody interrupts a singer until he’s through. So just keep singing while I make my way around back and look for Mrs. Dell. Now come on. You have to practice.”
“Here goes nothing,” Amos shrugged.
Singing telegram for Mrs. Dell
Here it is clear as a bell:
We wish you a happy day
Because that is just our way.
On this day have lots of fun.
A strange look came into Amos’s eyes. He smiled, threw his arms out to the side and started to really get into the singing.
Spend some time out in the sun,
Open presents and eat cake,
Take a trip down to the lake,
Above all else, have a good time
Hope you like our little rhyme.
Amos wound up on one knee on the floor, his hands out, a happy smile on his face.
Dunc stared at him. “Ahh—that’s great Amos. Try to work on that shyness a little, all right?”
“How was the delivery?”
Dunc nodded. “Great. Great delivery.”
“Good. I want to give it my best, you know.”
It took the boys forty-five minutes to get across town to the Dell place. The rusty gate creaked as the boys went through.
Dunc hid across from the house in the weeds beside the shed as Amos cautiously approached the house. He knocked on the front door. No answer. He started off the porch and the door opened.
“May I help you young man?” It was a sweet elderly voice, and a small, elderly woman opened the door.
Amos looked at the little old lady in front of him. “I—that is, I—are you Mrs. Dell?”
“Why yes, dear. What can I do for you?”
“You can’t do much for me, but I have a friend you can sure straighten out.”
Amos waved wildly at Dunc.
Dunc came out of the bushes and walked up onto the porch. “Mrs. Dell?”
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Dell. What’s going on here boys?”
Dunc explained about his last trip out to her house and about the strange man at the door and everything.
“You boys look tired. Come in the house. Let me get you some lemonade and we’ll visit.”
They were ushered into the living room a
nd were served cookies and homemade lemonade. They sat on an overstuffed couch while the woman spoke to them.
“You see boys, that was my nephew Frank. Sometimes he’s a little bit overprotective. I really appreciate your concern, though.”
“Are you satisfied now?” Amos asked as they pushed their bikes through the old gate and headed back down the dirt road.
Dunc started to answer, but a little black poodle ran up to him, wiggling and waggling its tail.
“Where did you come from boy?” Dunc pulled his bike over to the side of the road.
“He’s my baby boys. His name is Napoleon.”
A gray-haired lady wearing an old, tattered straw hat with a dozen different kinds of flowers on it came from the side of the road, reached down and picked up the dog. She was holding a shovel in one hand and had obviously been working in her yard.
“My name is Cora Hawkins. Some folks call me Crazy Cora Hawkins. I don’t mind. I live right up the road. I saw you boys coming out of that thieves’ hideout. Are you part of the gang?”
Dunc pointed at Amos. “He delivers telegrams and I’m just along for the ride. What makes you think there’s a gang in that old house?” Dunc asked.
The old lady grinned. Two of her front teeth were missing. She shook her head and turned and walked away.
“They’re up to no good over there. No good I tell you,” she mumbled over her shoulder.
“It’s really not fair,” Amos said. “She didn’t even look at me. The only thing she said was, ‘Thanks for returning the suit.’ I think she was talking to you.”
“Cut it out Amos. I’m sure she noticed you. You tripped over her dog and fell into her rose bushes and almost killed her cat. She had to notice you.”
The boys were in Dunc’s bedroom cutting out newspaper clippings for a current events project.
Dunc read one headline out loud: “ ‘Elderly Taken In By Con Artist.’ Look at this. Some guy posing as a long-lost relative convinces these old people to sign over all their property and bank accounts to him. Maybe we ought to look—”
