The Marvelous Inventions of Alvin Fernald

by Clifford B. Hicks

  The Marvelous Inventions of Alvin Fernald

  by Clifford B. Hicks

  Illustrated by Charles Geer

  PURPLE HOUSE PRESS

  KENTUCKY

  For Rae

  mother of my own three Alvins

  Table of Contents

  1. The Sure Shot Paper Slinger

  2. Visit to a Haunted House

  3. The Electric Periscope

  4. A Narrow Escape

  5. The Supersecret Eavesdropper

  6. Up a Tree

  7. The One-Jerk Bed Maker

  8. The Jet-Powered Message Carrier

  9. The Automatic Man Trap

  10. The Biggest Adventure of All

  11. The Reward

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  THE SURE SHOT PAPER SLINGER

  Alvin awoke with a start the instant the string jerked his big toe. Quickly, he reached down and turned off the alarm clock before his toe turned purple.

  Each morning a jerk on his big toe woke up Alvin Fernald. Alvin was a Great Inventor, and the string was one of his inventions. It ran to an alarm clock which he had bolted to the foot of his bed. He had removed the alarm bell so it wouldn’t wake his parents. When the alarm went off each morning it wound up a string which was tied to his big toe. Sometimes the toe became purple before he could turn off the alarm, but otherwise the Silent Waker Upper worked fine.

  Alvin had to get up early each morning to deliver his papers. He received $2.26 a week for delivering the papers before seven o’clock, and he promptly spent it for springs, wire, bolts, radio tubes, washers, light bulbs, and old clocks for his inventions.

  Alvin always considered himself a Great Inventor, capitalized. In fact, Alvin’s mind always capitalized his great inventions. He thought of himself as another Thomas Alva Edison (though, to himself, he always said Thomas Alvin Edison). And, like all Great Inventors, Alvin’s mind was continually working on some kind of a problem.

  This particular morning his magnificent brain was working on the problem of the Sure Shot Paper Slinger. Would it work? The first real test would come this morning on the paper route. Alvin was so intent on the problem that he didn’t notice anything wrong until he saw himself standing slantwise in the mirror. Then he discovered that he’d put on one shoe and one ice skate, which he’d been kicking around the closet floor since last winter.

  Alvin was a short, freckle-faced twelve-year-old who didn’t care much how he dressed, anyway. As a matter of fact, except for Sunday school, he hadn’t had on his good pair of pants since the last day of school, and here it was the middle of the summer. Alvin hated to see the summer go by so fast because fall meant school, and schoolwork didn’t leave him enough time to invent. He lived in Riverton, a middle-sized town in Indiana, and even the adults in town knew that Alvin was a Great Inventor.

  They’d never forget the time, three years ago, when he “motorized” his sister’s tricycle, put her on the seat and started the gasoline engine. She’d rolled down Hickory Street, gradually picking up speed, sailed around the corner into the business district, zoomed past the Cashway Hardware Store, crashed through the door of McAllister’s Drug Store, and ended up in a heap beside the soda fountain. When Mr. McAllister picked her up to see if she was hurt, she ordered a chocolate sundae. Her trip made headlines in the local paper, and from that moment everyone in town knew that Alvin was a Great Inventor.

  Alvin kicked the skate back into the closet, found his other shoe, and put it on. He had to struggle to pull on his pants because the pockets were so bulgy, but that was nothing unusual for Alvin’s pockets. He put everything on the dresser, making a pile that included a screwdriver, knife, three pennies, a jelly sandwich left over from the previous afternoon, an old bike pedal, three keys that didn’t fit anything, a chain of paper clips, and several bolts of various sizes. Everything went back into his pockets except the sandwich.

  Alvin flipped the switch that turned on his Foolproof Burglar Alarm and slipped quietly out the door, closing it behind him. In the bathroom he washed his face and brushed his teeth.

  At the top of the steps the Pest was waiting, fully dressed, her football clutched in her arms. Actually, the Pest was Daphne, his little sister. But the Pest was what Alvin had called her as long as he could remember.

  “You go back to bed,” he whispered fiercely. “You’re not supposed to get up when I do.”

  “I’m coming along, Alvin.”

  “No you’re not. You’re going back to bed. Now get out of my way. I have an important invention to try out.”

  He stepped around her and ran down the steps two at a time. As he held the front door so it wouldn’t slam, she slipped out, her golden curls brushing his arm.

  Daphne was only eight years old, and she was small for her age. She was as quick and graceful as a kitten, and she managed to pop up in the most unexpected places. Usually they were places where Alvin didn’t want her to pop up. He was always complaining to his parents that she stuck the freckles on her turned-up nose into business where the freckles on her turned-up nose didn’t belong.

  Because she worshipped Alvin, Daphne wished she was a boy. Whenever her mother would let her, she dressed in Alvin’s outgrown blue jeans. And, although she had a dozen dolls with complete outfits, she hid them away in her closet and insisted on carrying around an old football wherever she went.

  “You go on back,” Alvin insisted.

  “I want to watch.”

  From years of experience Alvin knew that it was useless to argue with Daphne. He walked on out to the garage.

  In the open door he paused a moment for a good look at his latest great invention. There it was, fastened to the rear wheel of his bike. Man, oh man, it looked good! Why, he’d probably make a million dollars on it, besides helping every paperboy in the world. It was a genuine, never-before- invented Sure Shot Paper Slinger.

  The invention stood out on one side of the rear wheel. There were a lot of complicated parts, but mainly it was made of a broom handle, an inner tube rubber, two screen-door springs, and a tube made of cardboard that was big enough to hold a rolled-up paper. The levers on the handlebars operated the invention.

  “Oh, Alvin,” said the Pest. “It’s beautiful.”

  “May not work,” he replied. “May not work at all. You never can tell about an invention until you test it.”

  “Test it.” Daphne frequently repeated whatever she heard. “Oh, Alvin! It’s so beautiful. Let’s test it quick.”

  The Pest thought all his inventions were beautiful. All except the Foolproof Burglar Alarm which kept her from sneaking into his room.

  As Alvin wheeled out the bicycle he saw Shoie trotting up the driveway.

  “Hi!” said Shoie. “All ready to try it out?”

  Shoie — his name was Wilfred Shoemaker, but all the kids called him Shoie — was Alvin’s best friend. He was taller than Alvin and he could run lots faster and jump much higher. In fact, Shoie was considered the mightiest athlete in all of Roosevelt School.

  “Hi, Shoie,” said Alvin. “Let’s go pick up the papers and try out this good ol’ Sure Shot Paper Slinger.”

  With his left foot on the pedal, Alvin shoved off and started to swing his right foot up over the seat. Instead, he caught it in the Paper Slinger, lost his balance and crashed into Shoie. Immediately there was a tangle of arms, legs, and bike on the driveway.

  The Pest looked down at them. “What did you do that for, Alvin?” she asked.

  “Don’t just lie there,” Alvin shouted at Shoie. “Get off, so I can see whether or not we ruined the Paper Slinger!”

  Apparently there was
no damage to the invention.

  “Come on. Help me get on the bike and I’ll wait for you at the corner.”

  But the Mighty Athlete was so fast on his feet that he was balancing on his head on top of the pile of papers when Alvin came riding up. A moment later the Pest showed up, out of breath. Each morning the delivery truck dropped off a pile of papers on this corner, and it was Alvin’s job to see that they were delivered. Usually Shoie came along just for the fun of it.

  The boys rolled each paper into a tight bundle and dropped it into the wire basket in front of the handlebars. At last they were ready for the big test.

  “Excuse me for asking,” said Shoie, as he steadied Alvin on the seat, “but how come you made this Paper Slinger? Can’t you throw them just as good with your arm, old bean?”

  Alvin and Shoie always called each other “old bean” and “old man.”

  For a minute Alvin acted as though he wasn’t even going to answer. Then he said in a disgusted tone, “It’s plain to see that you’ll never be an inventor. Anything that your arm can do, a machine can do better. Why, lots of times I throw papers on roofs and everywhere else, but I’ll bet this Paper Slinger will throw them exactly the same place every time.”

  Alvin thought a minute. Then he added, “Besides, you don’t know how sore my arm gets slinging these papers day after day.” (Alvin knew this wasn’t quite true. He’d never had a sore arm except the time he’d hurt it throwing a rock at the big old bull out on Maldowski’s farm. And Shoie probably knew it, too, because Shoie usually slung just as many papers as he did.) “Just think of it. There are a million, maybe two million paperboys all over the United States. And every day every one of them gets a sore arm just from slinging papers. If they throw with both arms that’s maybe four million sore arms every day. And if this invention works, there won’t be a single sore arm on a paperboy anywhere.”

  “My brother’s the best thinker in the whole world,” said the Pest. No matter how Alvin treated her, she always stood up for him.

  “Everybody quiet,” said Alvin. “It’s time for a scientific test.”

  With that he shoved off and started pedaling.

  As he approached Mr. McRobert’s house — the first house on his route — Alvin took one of the papers out of the basket, reached around and slipped it into the cardboard tube on the Paper Slinger. Then he grabbed the special cocking lever on the handlebars. He had to pull so hard to get it cocked that he almost crashed into the curb. Finally, he was ready for the big test.

  Alvin could feel his heart beating faster as he came up to Mr. McRobert’s house. It was the same feeling he always had when he was about to test a great invention. He took a deep breath and reached for the special release trigger.

  Just as he wheeled past the house he gave a quick jerk. The two springs slammed against the rear wheel of the bike, and for a moment Alvin thought he’d been hit by a truck. The instant before he crashed, he heard a whistling sound behind his ear. With the bike on top of him, he twisted around and looked toward the house. High in the air, high above the peak of the roof, the paper unfolded with a snap and pages went fluttering in all directions.

  By the time Shoie came running up, the morning paper was spread all over the top of Mr. McRobert’s house.

  Chapter 2

  VISIT TO A HAUNTED HOUSE

  “WOW!” shouted Shoie. “Boy, that was something! Did you see that paper fly? Let’s do it again!”

  “Didn’t work right,” mumbled Alvin, rubbing his leg. “Too much tension. I’ll have to make an adjustment.”

  He scrambled to his feet. With the screwdriver from his pocket, he loosened the two screen-door springs, moved a bolt, and refastened the springs, looser this time.

  “There,” he said. “That ought to be just about right. Let’s try it again, Shoie.”

  When Alvin had crashed, the papers had rolled into the street. The two boys reloaded them into the basket. Soon, Alvin was pedaling down the street again. He’d wasted a paper on Mr. McRobert’s roof, and had left his only spare copy on the front steps. That meant he couldn’t afford to ruin another one. He sure hoped the tension was right.

  As he approached old Mr. Bugle’s house he pulled the special cocking lever again. This time it wasn’t so hard to pull, and he thought the tension might be about right.

  He rode close to the curb. When he was exactly in front of the house, he jerked the special release trigger. There was a jar to the bike, but it didn’t knock him over. He heard the whistling sound behind his ear, and looked back over his shoulder.

  The paper sailed through the air and landed smack on the top step of old Mr. Bugle’s front stoop.

  “Perfect!” shouted Shoie, turning a handspring. “Alvin, you’ve made an invention that really works.”

  Alvin circled around and stopped. In the middle of his stomach was a warm feeling — the same kind of feeling he’d had when he got two A’s on the same report card. In fact, he felt mighty good all over. Still, he didn’t want Shoie to think he was overcome.

  “Not bad,” he admitted, “but it should have slung that paper about two feet farther. I’ll adjust it better tomorrow.” He paused a minute to impress Shoie. “Yep. I think this old Sure Shot Paper Slinger is going to work fine.” Then, as an afterthought, “Maybe I’ll try to get a patent on it this afternoon.”

  “Let’s try it again, Alvin,” begged Shoie.

  Shoie helped him shove off again, then ran along the sidewalk while Alvin pedaled down the street. The next time Alvin tried the Paper Slinger, the paper whistled through the air and landed in the bushes at the side of the house. Alvin figured it was his fault; he’d pulled the special release trigger too soon. He circled around in the street while Shoie found the paper and dropped it on the porch.

  But it wasn’t long until Alvin was hitting the front steps almost every time. And each time a paper landed right on target, Shoie would do a handspring as he raced down the sidewalk and shout, “Atta boy, old bean! Atta boy!”

  It was true, of course, that a paper knocked two roses off Mrs. Whittaker’s favorite bush, and another hit the Kawolsky dog smack on the rear end. Alvin felt sorry about the two roses, but he couldn’t feel sorry for the dog. Now, maybe it wouldn’t nip his heels every morning as he rode past.

  By the time he had delivered most of his papers, Alvin knew he had a truly great invention. In front of Shoie he had pretended to know something about getting a patent, but he really didn’t have the slightest idea how to start. Maybe they could tell him down at the fire station. The firemen seemed to know almost everything.

  Down the street he could see the Pest waiting for him. She had cut through the alley to catch him at the end of his route. Now she was leaning against the high iron fence that ran all around the old Huntley place. Alvin wanted to show off in front of Daphne, even if she was such a tagalong. He loaded the last paper into the tube and pulled back on the special cocking lever. The last house on his route was just beyond the old Huntley place, and he planned to sling the paper within inches of the front door.

  But it didn’t work out that way. Just as he pedaled past the Pest, the front wheel of the bike hit a crack in the pavement, and his hand jerked down on the special release trigger. The paper whistled out of the Slinger. It sailed right over the Pest’s head, across the iron fence and beyond the thick bushes that covered the front of the house. A moment later Alvin heard the tinkle of broken glass.

  “Gosh!” said Shoie as he ran up. “What happened?”

  “What happened?” repeated the Pest. “I know what happened. Alvin broke a window.”

  “Doggone crack in the street,” mumbled Alvin.

  “Yikes, Alvin, what are we going to do about the broken window?” asked Shoie.

  “Yes, Alvin, what are we going to do about the broken window?” repeated the Pest.

  “Right now I’m not worrying about that broken window,” said Alvin. “I’ll have plenty of time to worry about it later this morning. Right now
I’m worrying about the paper. It was the last one, and I have to have it for Mrs. Perkins. You know how mad she gets when she doesn’t get her paper.”

  “What can you do about it, old bean?” asked Shoie.

  Alvin thought for a minute. “I think,” he said, “I think I’ll go in there after it.”

  “Oh, Alvin!” gasped Daphne.

  The old Huntley place was known as the haunted house of Riverton. Nobody really believed it was haunted, because old Mrs. Huntley still lived there, but it certainly looked like a haunted house. In fact, with a high tower on each of the four corners, it looked like a haunted castle that had outlived all the ancient kings and now stood there alone — shabby and neglected. Across the front of the house was a long wooden porch. The wide front steps leaned at a crazy angle, and there were gaping holes where the boards had caved in. Everywhere, the paint was peeling, hanging down here and there in long ribbons that looked like dirty icicles even in the summer.

  Around the house ran a high iron fence with spikes on top. Inside the fence, overgrown bushes and trees almost hid the house from view, giving it a particularly spooky appearance. All the kids said that if you stood at midnight in a certain spot, just outside the fence, and looked up at one of the towers, you’d see a candle moving behind one of the tiny windows. They said it was the ghost of Mr. Huntley, but Alvin didn’t believe it. He thought it was probably Mrs. Huntley prowling around the big house at night.

  Mrs. Huntley was a very odd old lady to be sure. She believed strange things. For example, she believed that Mr. Huntley, who had been dead twenty years or more, had returned to earth as a bird. In fact, she thought Mr. Huntley was nesting in one of the trees near the house.

  Alvin could remember once, two or three years ago, he had been playing near the house and had heard her talking to the birds as she fed them. She had seen him peeking through the bushes and had invited him into the weed-filled yard. There she had shown him how to feed the birds right out of his hand. Alvin was entranced. She was a very kind old lady, he thought, and nothing like a real witch. He had liked her very much. Before he left, she made him promise to feed the birds every day after she died.