More Adventures of the Great Brain

by John D. Fitzgerald

  “The only thing that saved us all from the monsters and big snakes,” Tom said with a serious look on his face, “was that the Jensen brothers had their dog Lady with them, and Uncle Mark and I had J.D.’s dog Brownie with us. I saw plenty of monsters, but they had never seen a dog or heard a dog bark, and they were afraid. I’m talking about going to the cave without any dog to scare away the monsters.”

  Parley patted the Bowie knife in his scabbard. “I’ll bet I wouldn’t be afraid with my Bowie knife,” he said.

  Tom picked a straw from a bale of hay and put it in his mouth. “I wasn’t thinking of betting,” he said as the straw wiggled up and down. “But now that you mention it, I’ll bet that you are afraid to meet me in the entrance chamber of Skeleton Cave next Saturday night after curfew.”

  “Why not tonight?” Parley asked.

  “You are new in town,” Tom said. “I want to be fair and give you a chance to find out all you can about the cave.”

  “It’s a bet,” Parley said.

  “But we haven’t bet anything yet,” Tom said. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll bet my air rifle, my jackknife, and twenty-five cents in cash against your Bowie knife that you are afraid to meet me.” Then Tom shrugged. “If we both show up, the bet is off.”

  “It’s a bet,” Parley said quickly. “I know I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  The next morning I finished my last morning of doing all Tom’s chores and my own chores just in time to help Papa and Tom freeze the ice cream for our Sunday dinner.

  Tom’s great brain worked like sixty that day. When he came down from his loft about an hour after dinner, he had a big grin on his face.

  “Your great brain did it!” I shouted as he came out of the barn and into our corral, where I’d been standing guard to see he wasn’t disturbed.

  Tom nodded. “I’m going to convince Parley Benson there are monsters in the cave,” he said. “That will make him afraid to meet me there.”

  “How?” I asked, curious as all get out.

  Tom ignored my question by asking one. “Have you ever seen the footprint of a monster?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Has anybody in town ever seen the footprint of a monster?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t see how,’ ‘I said.

  “Then nobody knows what the footprint of a monster looks like,” Tom said with a grin. “I’m going to make footprints of a monster. Give me your word you won’t say anything to Papa or Mama or anybody, and I’ll let you help.”

  I sure didn’t want to be left out. “I give my word,” I promised.

  “We’ll saddle up Dusty first,” Tom said. “If we meet any kids, just tell them we are going for a ride.”

  After we’d put the saddle and bridle on Dusty, I watched Tom pick up a gunny sack. He mounted the mustang and rode out of the corral, waiting for me to shut the gate. Then he helped me up behind him. Tom guided the mustang up and down alleys and in a roundabout way until we were in back of the slaughterhouse by the stockyards. The odor was terrible because there were piles of old steer hooves, hides, bones, and skulls.

  Tom got off Dusty with the gunny sack. He went to the pile of hooves and picked out three split-toed ones, which he put in the gunny sack.

  He didn’t say a word until we were back in the barn and had put Dusty back in his stall.

  “Go to the toolshed and get the saw, a hammer, and some horseshoe nails,” he ordered me.

  When I returned, Tom held the hooves on a bale of hay and sawed off the bone on top so they would be level. He told me to get a shovel and bury the pieces of bone behind the barn.

  When I came back, he had a piece of board which was to have been used for kindling wood. He sawed off two pieces about one foot square. Then he got an old belt of Papa’s from his loft and cut off two pieces of leather about six inches long.

  “Now J.D.,” he said to me “you go outside and stand guard. Don’t let anybody in the barn.”

  I was curious as anything but did as I was told. I stood outside the barn door, where I could hear Tom hammering inside the barn. Finally he called me to come inside.

  “Shut the door and stand with your back against it,” he said.

  Then he held up the two pieces of board so I could see what he’d done. He’d nailed three of the halves of the steers’ hooves to the bottom of each board with the toes all pointing in different directions. Then he put the boards on the ground, and I could see he’d nailed a strap across the top of each board. I stood bug-eyed as Tom stuck the toes of his shoes under the straps. He then walked a few steps and turned around.

  “Behold the footprints of a monster!” he said.

  I looked at the footprints he’d made in the dirt. They looked like the tracks of a huge three-toed animal.

  Tom began rubbing his hands together. “When I get through, Parley and the other kids will swear there are monsters in Skeleton Cave.”

  Tom took the gunny sack and erased the footprints in the dirt. Then he said triumphantly, “That Bowie knife is as good as mine right now. I’ll sneak out after curfew Friday night and make footprints from Skeleton Cave down to the river and back. Saturday morning all I’ve got to do is to get Parley and the other kids down by the river so they can see the tracks. If Parley thinks there are monsters in that cave, he’ll never meet me Saturday night.”

  “Why would the monster come out of the cave?” I asked.

  “I’ll make them think the monster came down to the river to get a drink of water,” Tom answered.

  I shivered. “Maybe there are real monsters in the cave,” I said.

  “I sure didn’t see any,” Tom said. “All Uncle Mark and I saw were a lot of bats.”

  “What if Frank and Allan Jensen tell Parley there are nothing but bats in the cave?” I asked, only wanting to help.

  “I’m going to take care of that right now,” Tom said. “I’m going to remind them I saved their lives, and they owe me a favor. I never told you this before, J.D., but Uncle Mark made Frank and Allan and me promise we’d say we’d seen monsters and giant snakes in the cave.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked.

  “To scare any kids from ever going exploring in the cave again,” Tom answered.

  “You never told me that,” I said, feeling cheated.

  “Would I lie to my own brother?” Tom asked.

  * * *

  The next morning during recess I saw Parley Benson talking to Frank and Allan Jensen. They sure must have laid it on thick because Parley looked positively pale.

  I thought Friday would never come, but it finally did. I locked my dog Brownie and the pup up in the barn after supper. When it was bedtime, I got undressed, but Tom kept his clothes on. He waited until the curfew whistle blew and then climbed out our bedroom window and shinnied down the elm tree. I was determined to stay awake, but the next thing I knew it was morning. Tom was still asleep. I woke him up.

  “How did it go?” I asked all excited.

  “Perfect,” he answered. “I went all the way to the small inner chamber of the cave and made footprints down to the river and all the way back. Then I took off the footprints and carried them and erased my own footprints inside both chambers. When Parley sees those footprints, it will cure him of his bragging and cost him his Bowie knife.”

  I was just finishing my first stack of buckwheat cakes with melted butter and maple sugar when Uncle Mark came into our kitchen. He was usually calm like a peace officer should be, but this morning he looked all excited.

  “Pete Jorgenson came to my house this morning just as we were finishing breakfast,” he said to Papa. “He told me he’d seen some strange tracks leading from Skeleton Cave down to the river. I went to investigate. You won’t believe this, but there are tracks of an animal I’ve never seen leading from the cave to the river and back.”

  “What kind of tracks?” Papa asked while he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  “They are the footprints of an ani
mal of some kind. They have a three-pronged hoof with three toes pointing in different directions,” Uncle Mark replied.

  Papa jumped to his feet. “A prehistoric animal that has made its home in the cave all these years!” he shouted. “What a news story this will make!”

  Mamma didn’t share Papa’s enthusiasm. “You said you saw underground rivers in the cave when the Jensen boys got lost,” she said to Uncle Mark. “Why would any such animal come down to the river to drink?”

  “For any one of half a dozen reasons,” Papa exclaimed. “Underground rivers run dry. The animal could have got lost in the miles of underground caverns and labyrinths in the cave and found its way to the entrance in search of water.”

  “I think the best thing to do,” Uncle Mark said, “is to get the Mayor’s permission and dynamite the entrance to the cave so the beast can’t get out again. I’ve been wanting to seal up that cave ever since the Jensen boys got lost in it.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Papa said. “Think of what this means to science. If the animal came out once to drink, it will come out again. I’ll send a telegram right off to the Smithsonian Institution asking them to send an expert on prehistoric animals to Adenville.”

  Papa was so excited he ran out of the house with his napkin still tied around his neck.

  “Keep the boys in the house,” Uncle Mark said to Mamma. Then he ran after Papa.

  Aunt Bertha raised her big arms over her head. “A live monster in our midst!” she cried out. “The Lord preserve us!”

  Tom excused himself from the table without finishing his breakfast.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Mamma demanded.

  “I’ve got to see Papa,” Tom answered.

  “You and John D. will do exactly as your Uncle Mark said. You won’t step a foot out of this house,” Mamma said. “This animal or beast or whatever it is could be very dangerous.”

  “But there is something I’ve got to tell Papa,” Tom said. “I’ll telephone him at the Advocate.”

  “You will not,” Mamma said. “Your Uncle Mark is going to have the switchboard tied up letting everybody in town know they shouldn’t let anyone out of their homes. Whatever it is you want to tell your father can wait.”

  Tom and I went up to our room. “Who would believe grownups could be such fools?” he asked, plenty disgusted. “I figured Parley and the kids might swallow the story, but how could intelligent men like Papa and Uncle Mark believe such an impossible thing?”

  “You’d better figure out some way to tell Papa those footprints are a fake,” I said.

  Tom thought for a moment, and then he smiled. “Papa will know they are fake when he sees them,” he said confidently. “Papa is a college graduate, and they must have taught him all about prehistoric animals in college.”

  My brother couldn’t have been more wrong. Uncle Mark swung into action first by telephoning everybody in town to lock their doors and keep all women and children inside. He swore in fifty deputies to patrol the streets armed with rifles and shotguns. The whole town became paralyzed with terror to the point of panic. Many families decided it was a good time to visit relatives outside Adenville.

  Papa telephoned he wouldn’t be home for lunch. By suppertime Tom had decided things had gone this far, he might as well wait until morning to tell Papa, so he could collect his bet from Parley. Anyway the damage had already been done. Papa told us during supper that he’d sent telegrams to the Salt Lake City newspapers and got out an Extra of the Advocate. Uncle Mark had posted lookouts and promised if the monster came to the river to drink that night, he would send for Papa.

  When Tom and I went to bed, my brother insisted he was going through with his plan. When the curfew whistle blew, he took the screen off our bedroom window and shinnied down the elm tree.

  It wasn’t until Tom disappeared into the darkness that I became afraid. I knew he had made the footprints, but that was no guarantee there weren’t monsters and giant snakes in the cave. There were plenty of grownups who believed there were. I kept getting more frightened until I was shaking all over. Maybe it was true the big snakes and monsters had been frightened of Lady and Brownie. But Lady was home, and Brownie was locked up in the barn. One of those giant snakes or big monsters was just lying in wait for my brother and would gobble him up. I’d never see Tom again. My fear gave way to panic. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs into the parlor. Papa was talking to Uncle Mark.

  “T.D. has gone to Skeleton Cave!” I screamed.

  “Now why would he do that?” Papa asked testily. Papa was always one to take a second thought, and when it came, he jumped to his feet. “Good Lord!” he shouted.

  Mamma and Aunt Bertha came running into the parlor from the kitchen, where they had been making sandwiches and coffee for the men on patrol.

  “Patrol the streets!” Papa shouted at Uncle Mark.

  “The streets are patrolled,” Uncle Mark said. “I wish they weren’t now. In all the excitement some trigger-happy deputy might take a shot at the boy.”

  Papa and Uncle Mark dashed out of the house before I could tell them the footprints were a fake.

  “What in the world has got into your father and uncle?” Mamma asked.

  “T.D. sneaked out after curfew and went to Skeleton Cave!” I cried.

  “Oh dear God,” Mamma cried. Then she knelt on the floor and began to pray.

  I don’t know how long we remained there until Aunt Bertha broke the silence.

  “Why in the name of heaven would the boy do such a thing?” she asked helplessly.

  “It isn’t what Tom D. has done that counts,” Mamma said. “The only thing that matters is that they return my son to me safely.”

  It seemed like a long time before our parlor door opened, and in came Papa and Uncle Mark and my brother. Papa waited until Mamma and Aunt Bertha had made a fuss over Tom and assured themselves he was all right. Then he folded his arms on his chest.

  “And now T.D.,” he said sternly, “it will be most interesting to hear why you risked being shot by a nervous deputy or being killed by a prehistoric monster, and almost gave all of us heart failure in the bargain.”

  “I made a bet with Parley Benson,” Tom said as if he went around scaring the daylights out of people every day in the week. “You and Uncle Mark are my witnesses that I was in the entrance to Skeleton Cave tonight after curfew, and Parley wasn’t there.”

  Papa unfolded his arms and clasped his hands to the side of his head. He sort of staggered to his rocking chair and slumped down in it.

  “Oh no!” he cried out as if he had a sudden pain in his stomach.

  Uncle Mark looked steadily at Tom. “What kind of bet?” he asked.

  “I bet Parley my air rifle, jackknife, and twenty-five cents in cash against his Bowie knife that he would be afraid to meet me in Skeleton Cave tonight,” Tom answered. “My great brain figured out a way to cure Parley of his bragging and teach him a lesson at the same time.”

  Then Uncle Mark spoke sharply to my brother. “Do you realize that you could have been shot and killed by one of my deputies?”

  Tom smiled confidently. “I knew with my great brain I could sneak past your patrols easily,” he said.

  “And you still went there knowing this beast or whatever it is might have killed you?” Uncle Mark asked.

  Tom looked at Papa. “About those tracks, Papa,” he said.

  I couldn’t remain quiet any longer. “T.D.’s great brain figured out how to win the bet from Parley,” I said. “I helped him get the hooves from behind the slaughterhouse and stood guard outside the barn while he made the footprints of the monster.”

  “I think,” Mamma said severely, “that Tom Dennis had better do his own explaining.”

  “I sneaked out after curfew last night,” Tom confessed, “and made the tracks from the cave down to the river and back. I knew if Parley thought there was a real live monster in that cave, he wouldn’t go near it tonight. And I’d win the bet.�
� He tapped his temple with his finger. “Some brain, huh, Mamma.”

  “I should have known,” Uncle Mark said slowly. “The tracks weren’t deep enough to have been made by anything as heavy as a prehistoric animal.” He looked helplessly around the room. “This will make me the laughingstock of every peace officer in Utah,” he said in a very tired voice.

  “Make you a laughingstock!” Papa exclaimed, flapping his arms as if he were trying to fly. “My reputation as a journalist is ruined. I’m finished.”

  “I was going to tell you the footprints were fake,” Tom protested, “but Mamma wouldn’t let me.”

  Papa looked at Mamma as if she’d just stabbed him in the back. “I can’t believe that you, of all people, would help to perpetrate such a cruel joke,” he said.

  “I knew nothing about the fake footprints,” Mamma said. “Tom D. did mention he had something to tell you this morning, but I didn’t think it was important and told him it could wait.”

  Tom nodded. “And when you came home for supper, it was too late,” he said. “I figured the damage was done, so I might as well win my bet.”

  Uncle Mark sure looked mighty glum. “I don’t know what I’ll do, or where we will go after I turn my badge in,” he said.

  “I was only trying to scare Parley away from the cave,” Tom said, trying to defend himself. “I thought he and the other kids might believe there was a live monster in the cave, but I never in a million years thought that grownups would believe such an impossible thing.”

  To my surprise Mamma began to smile. “I guess that puts you both in your place,” she said, apparently getting even for what Papa had said to her.

  “Don’t worry, Papa,” Tom said. “My great brain can save both you and Uncle Mark. I put it to work this morning right after Mamma wouldn’t let me go tell you about the tracks. All you’ve got to do is to seal up the entrance to the cave by dynamiting it, and nobody will ever be able to prove there wasn’t a live monster.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Uncle Mark’s lips. “I know the Mayor will give his permission, because people have been asking him to seal up the cave entrance since the Jensen brothers got lost in it. That leaves just the tracks.”