Читать книгу The Mystery of the Dinosaur Bones - Mary Adrian - Страница 5

CHAPTER TWO

The Map

The Rockhill family left for Marty’s camp Saturday afternoon. Their station wagon rolled along the highway, with Dad at the wheel and Mother in the front seat next to him. The twins were sitting in the back, looking at their dinosaur tools—a small pick, chisel, shovel, and rock hammer.

“I wish I was going dinosaur hunting right now,” said Ken.

“So do I,” added Chris. “How far is it to Marty’s camp, Daddy?”

“Two hundred and fifty miles,” replied Mr. Rockhill.

“How long do you think it will take us to get there?” asked Ken.

“Oh, we should make it in two days.” Mr. Rock-hill tried to keep from smiling.

“Two days!” roared Ken. “Why a snail could travel faster than that.”

Mr. Rockhill laughed. “We’re averaging fifty miles an hour, Ken. So you tell me how long it will take us to get there.”

“It will . . . er . . .”

“Five hours if we don’t stop on the way,” finished Chris.

“Yes, five hours,” repeated Ken. Then, turning to his sister, he said in anger, “You didn’t have to tell me. I knew it all the time.”

“Of course you did,” said Mrs. Rockhill.

Ken grinned. He felt better.

In a little while he and his sister were getting restless.

“Could you please stop somewhere, Daddy? My seat aches,” said Chris.

“We will at the next rest area.”

Mr. Rockhill soon drove into a shady place near a stream, and everyone got out of the station wagon. The twins headed for the drinking fountain. They were still taking turns drinking when their parents returned to the station wagon a short while later.

“We’d better go, Ken,” said Chris.

“Okay,” he answered.

As soon as Ken and his sister had scrambled into their places the Rockhill family continued their journey. At seven o’clock that evening they were still driving.

Chris yawned and then said in a mournful voice, “All we do is ride, ride, ride. Of course we did stop at three rest areas on the way, but I guess by this time Marty must think we’re not coming.”

“In another fifteen minutes we should be seeing the Taylors,” said Mr. Rockhill.

“Honest, Daddy? You’re not spoofing?” asked Chris.

“No, I really mean it.”

Ken’s eyes sparkled with excitement. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. It was a shrill whistle that made Chris put her hands over her ears, but she laughed just the same.

A short while later Chris sat up straight in her seat and shouted, “There’s Marty. Hi, Marty! Hi, Marty!”

Marty was sitting on the top of a big boulder at the entrance to the camp grounds. On seeing the Rockhills, he jumped down from his perch with the swiftness of a squirrel and waved his arms.

Mr. Rockhill stopped the car, and Marty climbed into the back seat.

“I’m sure glad you could come,” he said, giving Ken a playful punch in the ribs. He slapped Chris on the back in a friendly way and pulled her hair.

“Ouch!” she squealed and then giggled. She could not be cross with Marty. That was his way of saying “Hi.”

Marty also told Mr. and Mrs. Rockhill how happy he was to see them. “You drive down this road until you come to camp site ten,” he said to Mr. Rockhill. “That’s where we are. We saved camp site twelve for you. A couple checked out of there this morning.” Marty turned to the twins. “Winkie is at camp site fourteen next to you. Tomorrow we’re going to look for the dinosaur graveyard, and he wants you to come along.”

“Golly! That’s wonderful!” Chris pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Ken was as thrilled as his sister. “Now we can use our dinosaur tools, Chris. I’ll bet we’ll be the best dinosaur hunters in the country.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Mr. Rockhill, with a laugh. “Did your dad catch any fish today, Marty?”

“Yes. Ten big trout. We’re going to have them for supper. Mom said that the Rockhill family is to eat with us.”

“Ten trout!” repeated Mr. Rockhill, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Mom is planning to show you all kinds of birds, Mrs. Rockhill,” continued Marty. “I saw some the other day. They sure were pretty.”

Mrs. Rockhill purred like a kitten.

The station wagon stopped in front of the Taylor’s camp site where an umbrella tent stood in a fairly large area. Mrs. Taylor was taking down wash from a clothesline hanging between two trees. She quickly put the wash on the picnic table and hurried to meet the Rockhills. So did Mr. Taylor, who was fixing his fishing tackle in front of the tent. Then he and Mrs. Taylor told the Rockhills how glad they were to see them.

After dinner, while the men talked about fishing, and the women about birds, the children set out to look for Winkie. They went to his camp site, but he was not there.

“We’ll go to the Bronsons’ trailer,” said Marty. “Winkie likes to hang out there.”

He led the way down a short bank to another road, where a large white trailer was nestled under some trees. Mr. Bronson was reading in a comfortable chair outside. His black cocker spaniel was sitting at his feet, scratching flea bites.

Marty coughed to let Mr. Bronson know he was there, and then said in a polite voice. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Bronson, but have you seen Winkie?”

“Nope,” answered the man, looking up over his glasses. “He’s late making the rounds this evening. I don’t know where he’s keeping himself.”

Marty snapped his fingers. “I’ll bet he’s meditating on his log near the river.”

“Meditating?” Chris was puzzled.

“That’s what Winkie calls it when he’s thinking about the dinosaur graveyard,” explained Marty. “He studies his map and meditates. Come on. I’ll race you down to the river. The last one there is a dead fish.”

With the speed of a rocket, Marty tore through some brush near the road. The twins ran after him. They jumped over a big log and several rocks. They dashed on, with Marty still in the lead. Ken came next, and then Chris, but suddenly she sprinted forward and passed her brother.

A few moments later the race ended, with Marty coming in first, Chris second, and Ken last.

“You’re a dead fish, Ken,” cried Chris gleefully. It was the first time she had outrun her brother.

Ken grumbled and then forgot about being angry with himself, for Marty was introducing him to Winkie, a thin, wiry old man with white hair. He was sitting on a log studying his map as Marty had predicted.

“Howdee, Chris and Ken,” he said in a jovial voice. “Marty has told me all about you, and I’m glad you could come. We’re having a time finding the dinosaur graveyard. This map has us baffled.” He spread out a piece of paper on the log for them to examine.

The twins got down on their knees and looked curiously at the crude map that Winkie’s friend had drawn. They could see the drawings of some trees and a big boulder. There were also two cliffs. One was shaped like the hump on a camel’s back. The other cliff had a big hole in the side of the wall. On the bottom of the map was written in large letters: TO FIND LOCATION OF DINOSAUR GRAVEYARD. The next word was blurred. After it came: CAMEL-BACK CLIFF. Then another word was blurred. It was followed by: HOLE IN THE WALL.

Chris frowned. “Golly, it’s hard to understand what those words are on the map. Does it mean that there are two clues—the camel-back cliff and the cliff with a big hole?”

“Yes,” answered Winkie, “but Marty and I haven’t found cliffs that look like either of those.”

Ken was still studying the map. “Maybe when we do find them, we’ll know what the blurred words mean.”

“That’s what Winkie and I think,” said Marty. “It isn’t easy, though, to spot those two cliffs.”

“It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack,” added Winkie, “with all the cliffs around here. There must be fifty or more.”

“Then it will be like going on a treasure hunt,” said Chris. “You keep looking until you find the treasure.”

Winkie smiled. “That’s exactly what you do. Dinosaur hunting takes a lot of patience. You just don’t find dinosaur bones like shells on a beach, but when you do discover one, it is like finding a treasure. I’ll never forget how thrilled I was when I found part of a dinosaur’s rib on the side of a cliff in Wyoming. In this country I haven’t had any luck, although some dinosaur hunters have. That’s why I was so happy to get my friend’s map. I was sure it would help me find a dinosaur graveyard, but I didn’t realize it would be so hard to locate a camel-back cliff and one with a big hole.”

“We’ll track down the two clues,” said Ken.

“We certainly will,” added Chris. “When Mother loses something, Ken and I always find it for her. Daddy says that’s because we have sharp eyes. So I’m positive we’ll find the dinosaur graveyard.”

“Boy, you’ve got me excited,” said Marty. “I’m surely going to look for those two cliffs when we go dinosaur hunting tomorrow. I wonder which one of us will spot them first?”

“I hope it’s me,” said Chris.

“I’ll bet I beat you to it,” said Ken.

Winkie laughed. He was moved by the children’s enthusiasm. “You’ve convinced me that we will come across that graveyard.” He paused and then said, “I guess you already see that it is fascinating to look for the remains of those big reptiles and put the different parts of their skeletons together. Just think of it! Dinosaurs were roaming on this earth two hundred million years ago!”

“There were still some dinosaurs living sixty million years ago,” added Marty. “Then they died out, and that was the end of the Age of Reptiles. I learned that from a book.”

“But no one really knows why the dinosaurs died,” chimed in Chris.

Ken also wanted to furnish some information. “Some scientists think that there wasn’t enough food for all the dinosaurs. Others wonder if it was because the climate changed. It was hot, as it is in the tropics, when the dinosaurs lived. Anyway, it sure is a mystery what happened to them.”

“My, you children do know something about dinosaurs,” said Winkie. “I’m glad, because that really makes you want to hunt for the graveyard, and I’m counting on you to find it.”

Marty and the twins grinned with pride. They were so happy that Winkie wanted their help that the boys did several handsprings and Chris hopped with delight from one foot to the other. Then she looked at the map and studied the drawings of the cliffs.

Later, after she had gone to bed, the map came to her thoughts again.

“Ken,” she said, “what do you think the two smudged words are on Winkie’s map?”

Her brother did not answer. He was dead to the world, curled up in his sleeping bag.

Mother and Dad were also asleep, but Chris could not keep her eyes closed. Suddenly she was sitting bolt upright, listening to a weird sound.