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
THE RIVER, Gary Paulsen
THE MONUMENT, 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
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.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
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.
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The trademark Dell® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
eISBN: 978-0-307-80393-1
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Other Yearling Books
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
Amos Binder was in his room reading a letter from his cousin, T.J. Tyler.
… so my dad rented this really old castle for the summer. He has some research to do here in Scotland and he brought me with him. That’s where you guys come in. He doesn’t have much time to spend with me so he says he’d be glad to fly you over to keep me company. What do you say?
Sincerely, T.J.
P.S. Weird things are going on around here.
I could use some help.
“What do you make of that?” Amos handed the letter to Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper, his best friend for life.
Dunc studied the letter. “That last part’s kind of mysterious. Sounds like he needs us.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I guess I’d be willing to give up my date with Melissa to go to Scotland.”
“Amos, you don’t have a date with Melissa.”
Melissa Hansen was the light of Amos’s life. As far as Amos was concerned, no other girl compared to her. Melissa gave Amos about as much thought as she gave an ant crawling on the sidewalk. Actually, she’d probably give more thought to the ant.
“Not officially,” Amos said. “But she tried to call last night to ask me to the youth club dance.”
“What do you mean, she tried to call?”
“The phone rang while I was in my room composing a letter to Dear Abby about the incredible injustice of a person being grounded for the rest of his life just because of a small accident involving their dad’s power saw and the garage door.”
“Wait a minute,” Dunc said. “You never told me you were grounded!”
Amos shrugged. “It didn’t last long because after the phone call I’m no longer grounded. Now I’m up for adoption.”
“What did you destroy this time?”
“Nothing. For once, I didn’t ruin anything.”
“Your parents want to farm you out, and you didn’t mess anything up? Are you sure?”
Amos nodded. “It was like this. When the phone rang, I knew it was Melissa. Her ring has that rare three beats to a pulse.”
Amos claimed he could tell Melissa’s ring from anybody else’s. Dunc knew it was impossible, not only because his research indicated that Amos’s phone rang the same way every time but because Melissa Hansen wouldn’t call someone who didn’t rate any higher than an ant.
“Anyway,” Amos continued, “I had to get it on that all-important first ring. So I headed for the nearest phone.”
“Which was in?”
“My sister’s room. She just got one installed for her birthday.”
“So far it doesn’t sound so awful.”
Amos slapped his knee. “That’s what I said. Too bad my sister and the other cheerleaders didn’t see it that way.”
“Cheerleaders?”
“Yeah. How was I supposed to know they were all in there trying on new uniforms?”
Dunc raised one eyebrow.
“I really didn’t see a thing. Honest. You know how I am when it comes to the telephone. Pure concentration.”
“Right. Did you get to the phone?”
“Yes and no. Things sort of went crazy in there. Girls were running everywhere. Amy was yelling names at me that I can’t repeat. And the rest of them started throwing things. Have you ever been hit full in the face with an electric hair dryer?”
Dunc shook his head and tried not to smile. “No, I can’t say I have.”
“I was knocked out cold. When I came to, I had the telephone wrapped around my head and two pom-poms stuck up my nose. One in each nostril. I barely escaped with my life. And of course Amy made it sound to my parents like I was the original peeping Tom or something. Needless to say, my folks think my going to Scotland is a wonderful idea.”
Dunc turned his attention back to the letter. “Does T.J. still quote his Ethiopian grandmother?”
Amos nodded. “In his last letter he wrote ‘The moon is only small if you sit on a duck.’ I’m still trying to figure that one out.”
Dunc smiled. “T.J.’s a character. Has he invented anything new since we saw him last?”
“The last I heard, he was working on flying shoes. He built some kind of device into his shoes that lifts him off the ground when he walks. It still has a few bugs, though. When his feet come up, his face comes down. Usually into the pavement.”
“Sounds like our buddy T.J.,” Dunc said.
“Look for a tall African-American man and a kid wearing a trench coat,” Amos said.
“I’m looking.” Dunc carefully observed each person in the steady stream of people walking back and forth in the crowded Scottish airport. “I don’t see them.”
“They should be here. T.J. said he and his dad would pick us up.”
“They probably had a flat tire or something.” Dunc stopped. “You did send the telegram telling them which plane we were on and what time it landed, didn’t you?”
Amos looked offended. “Give me a little credit here.”
“Okay. It’s just that sometimes, in the past, you have been known to screw things up.”
“Well, not this time. I distinctly remember putting the message in my pocket and riding my bike downtown, and—” Amos hesitated.
“What?”
“I just thought of something. On my way to send the message I ran into Dennis Therman. You
remember Dennis? The kids at school used to call him Lizard Lips.”
“I remember him. What does he have to do with the telegram?”
“Dennis said he was only going to be in town for a few days. So we decided to go to the arcade for a while.”
“You didn’t send it.”
“Well, actually, I—”
“You didn’t send it.”
Amos shook his head.
Dunc sat on his suitcase. “Here we are in the largest airport in Scotland. It’s nearly dark. We don’t know a soul, and we’re not being met by anyone. Tell me you at least have T.J.’s phone number.”
Amos chewed on a fingernail and looked at the ceiling.
Dunc closed his eyes. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”
“They’re over here, Dad!” T.J. ran up to them out of breath. “We were afraid we missed you guys.”
“T.J.” Amos grinned. “Am I glad to see you.”
Dunc knew better than to try to shake T.J.’s hand. The last time he tried it, an alarm in T.J.’s trench coat had gone off and red lights started flashing. “That goes double for me, T.J. But how did you know we were here?”
“There’s this creepy old lady who keeps house for us. She reads the future in tea leaves, and she told us we’d be having visitors today.”
T.J.’s dad walked up. “But that’s not how we knew you’d be here. Amos’s mother found a message in his shirt pocket. She thought she’d better double-check and make sure we knew when you were coming. She called us last night.”
“But there really is this witch”—T.J.’s dad threw him a look—“I mean, this lady, who reads tea leaves and does all kinds of spooky things. Wait till you meet her.”
T.J.’s dad put the suitcases in the back of the rented station wagon. “As soon as I get a chance, I’m going to trade this wagon in for a four-wheel drive. The road leading up to the castle is a little rough.”
“The realtor, Mr. Macbeth, told us that’s the reason we got the castle so cheap,” T.J. said. “Normally castles, even small ones like ours, aren’t for rent, and when they are, nobody can afford them.”
Amos hit his head on the roof of the car. He jerked his seat belt tighter. “How much farther?”
“We’re almost there.” T.J. pointed out the window. “Dunbar Castle is just on the other side of that hill.”
“Is that the owner’s name?” Dunc asked.
T.J. shrugged. “We’ve never met the owner. Mr. Macbeth said the owner is a recluse and wants to remain anonymous. Dad sends the rent checks to the realtor.”
Dunc rubbed his chin. “That’s strange. I wonder why.…”
“Don’t look a gift castle in the mouth,” Amos said. “Especially one with servants.”
Mr. Tyler glanced back at Amos. “There are only two people who work full time at the castle. Mrs. Knox and Mr. Smith. Sometimes Mrs. Knox’s son Jimmy works part time. The owner hired them more to keep the place in good condition than to wait on us.”
“Mrs. Knox is the one I told you about,” T.J. whispered. “The witch.”
Mr. Tyler frowned. “Mrs. Knox isn’t a witch. She’s just a little odd. Some of the old Scottish traditions are different from what you’re used to.”
“Who’s Mr. Smith?” Dunc asked.
“The grounds keeper. He’s strange too,” T.J. said. “He’s always watching me. Everywhere I go, he’s there. He sort of pops up out of nowhere.”
T.J.’s dad drove across a bridge and through a large open iron gate. “Here we are, boys. Dunbar Castle.”
The courtyard was dimly lit. A tall, thin man with a red beard appeared from the shadows and started unloading the suitcases.
“Boys, this is Mr. Smith.” T.J.’s dad took one of the suitcases. “Mr. Smith, this is Amos Binder and Duncan Culpepper.”
Mr. Smith stared at Dunc. “Duncan. Now that’s a fine Scottish name.” He turned away abruptly and carried the boys’ things through the massive oak front door.
Amos looked at T.J. “Are all the natives as friendly as he is?”
“I told you he was strange.” T.J. led them inside the dark castle. “This big room is what they call the great hall.”
“I’d probably be impressed—if I could see it,” Amos said. “Don’t people in Scotland believe in electricity?”
Mr. Tyler handed Amos a candle. “That’s one of the problems with being so far out. We’re on a generator. The place is too big for the generator to light up everything all at once, so at night we use candles.” He gave a candle to T.J. “Show the boys their rooms. I’ll see if Mrs. Knox left us anything for supper.”
T.J. headed for the stairs. “Follow me.”
The flickering light of Amos’s candle cast eerie shadows on the wall as they climbed the stone staircase. “This place is kind of spooky.”
“Mrs. Knox told me the place is haunted.” T.J. stopped in front of a suit of armor. “By the guy who used to wear this. Robert Ramsey. There’s a full-length painting of him down in the library.”
“Who is he?” Dunc asked.
“Mr. Knox says he’s a hero. There was a big battle fought not too far from here, and this Ramsey guy gave his life defending the Stone of Scone, the Scottish symbol of royal authority.”
Dunc took a closer look at the armor. “What makes her think he haunts the castle?”
“She says he was beheaded during the battle and at night he walks the ramparts looking for his head.”
Amos shivered. “You left out the part about a headless ghost in your letter.”
“Is this ghost business what you needed our help with?” Dunc asked.
“Keep your voice down,” T.J. whispered. “You never know who might be listening. Come on. I’ll show you where your rooms are. We’ll talk about it after supper.”
A gust of wind came out of nowhere. T.J.’s candle blew out. Someone grabbed Dunc from behind and pulled him into a secret passage in the wall.
Amos held his candle up. He took a couple of faltering steps. “T.J.? Dunc? Where are you guys?”
The row of paintings hanging on the wall seemed to be glaring down at him. There was something about one of them. He brought his candle closer.
The eyes in the painting moved.
Amos was still mad. “It wasn’t funny. I nearly messed my pants.”
“I’m sorry, Amos,” T.J. said. “I was just trying to prove my point.”
“What was your point?” Amos sneered. “To see how long it would take me to have a major heart attack?”
“I said I was sorry.” T.J. sat on the bed in Amos’s room. “I only pulled Dunc into that secret passage so I could show you guys how easy it is to listen to someone’s conversation without them knowing. I didn’t know he would look through the eyes in the painting. We’re going to have to be very careful.”
“Yeah,” Amos growled. “Careful about which cousins we trust in the future.”
“How did you find that passage?” Dunc asked.
“I guess you could say I fell into it. I was testing my latest invention. I think I told you about it in one of my letters—antigravity air shoes? Anyway, they got away from me on the stairs, and I grabbed that ugly little stone statue to keep from falling. When I pulled on it, the wall just sort of opened up—and there it was.”
“Have you explored the whole passage?”
“No. Only parts of it. I’m pretty sure it goes all over the lower part of the castle. But I’ve only been to the kitchen and the library.”
“Then how do you know it’s safe for us to talk in here?” Dunc looked around Amos’s room. A sword and shield hung on one wall and a tapestry on another. The only furniture was a four-poster bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and an overstuffed chair. A large stone fireplace was built into the corner.
“I don’t. So far I haven’t found any way they could listen up here, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Wait a minute.” Amos held up his hand. “Headless ghosts, secret passages. Who’s listening? What’s
going on here?”
“That’s what you guys are going to help me find out. I hope.” T.J. lowered his voice. “At night you can hear these strange sounds. And everybody around here acts like they’re hiding something.”
“That’s it?” Amos shook his head. “That’s all you’ve got? You dragged us halfway around the world and made me miss my date with Melissa to tell us that you’ve been hearing things?”
“You’ll see for yourself, later tonight,” T.J. said. “So you finally got a date with Melissa?”
“I was about to. See, she called to invite me to this dance, but I didn’t quite make it to the phone.”
“If you never made it to the phone, how do you know Melissa was calling you?”
“Don’t confuse him with reality,” Dunc said. “What does your dad think about all this?”
T.J. sighed. “Dad says he can’t hear anything from his room. He thinks it’s probably a case of too much rich Scottish food just before bedtime.”
“Speaking of food”—Amos picked up his candle—“which way to the kitchen?”
“Go on down, Amos,” Dunc said. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Amos took a step toward the door. He stopped. Dead. “Why don’t we all go down together? Close together.”
“Hold on.” T.J. jumped off the bed. “I just remembered, I have something else to show you. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Dunc pulled a notepad from his pocket and moved closer to Amos’s candle and started writing.
Amos’s shoulders drooped. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t start with that notebook stuff. When you do that, it means you’re about to play private eye.”
“A good detective always takes notes. I’ve explained this to you before. Someday when we’re famous, you’ll be thanking me.”
“I’m sure.”
T.J. came back into the room carrying a bottle. “I found this in the secret passage.”
Dunc took the bottle. “There’s no label. What is it?”
T.J. popped the lid off. “Take a whiff.”
“Uggh!”
“What is it?” Amos asked. “Poison?”
“Worse.” Dunc put the lid back on. “I think it’s—whisky.”
