The Mystery of Wandering Caveman - M. V. Carey [14]
“What is it?” said Pete. “You find something?”
“A footprint,” said Jupe. “Someone walked across this field very recently —
someone with bare feet!”
Pete crouched to look at the print. Then he stood up and stared at the woods. His face was pale.
“Barefoot?” he said. “On . . . on this rough ground? Does that mean John the Gypsy really saw something?” He looked around.
Jupe said nothing and went on towards the woods. Gulping, Pete followed him.
They were alert for further signs of the person who had passed this way, but the grass was long and thick and they reached the edge of the woods without seeing another print.
There was a path under the trees, but the ground there was strewn with pine needles.
“Footprints won’t show here,” said Jupe, “but maybe farther on …”
“Hey, wait a second!” cried Pete. “You don’t want to go in there now! I mean, somebody might still be there and … and … and if we’re going to get anything to eat, we’d better get going. There’ll be a mob at that cafe! Come on, or we could wind up starving.”
“Pete, this could be important!” said Jupe.
“To who?” retorted Pete, “Hey, come on, Jupe. We can search the woods later.”
Reluctantly, Jupe let himself be coaxed away. He and Pete went back to the barn.
Bob came out as they arrived. Just then Newt McAfee appeared on his back porch.
“Mornin’,” Newt called to the boys. “Beautiful day, ain’t it? Ought to get a big turnout for the opening of my museum.” He smiled with satisfaction.
“Hey, John!” yelled Newt. John the Gypsy came out of his van holding a bowl of cereal. “Didja see any more cave men last night?” Newt chuckled, but the watchman scowled.
“I seen one, and that’s enough,” said John, and he disappeared back into his van.
Unperturbed, Newt yelled after him, “Don’t you go running off now, John. After breakfast I need your help to fix up a few things in the museum. And then you got to stay here and keep an eye on the place while we have the opening ceremonies in the park.”
Newt went back inside the house, and the three boys headed down Main Street for breakfast. Again there was a crowd waiting at the Lazy Daze Café and by the time they were seated, the boys were famished.
As the waitress took their order, the boys heard the brassy sound of a Sousa march. They looked out past the crowds of pedestrians and lines of cars that inched up the street. A group of very young musicians were rehearsing in the park.
“The band from the local high school,” Bob guessed.
The crowd on the pavement thinned for a minute, and Jupe and his friends could see the full splendour of red, white and gold band uniforms.
Trucks from several television stations were pulled up on the far side of the park, and a man in a short-sleeved shirt fiddled with the microphone on the bandstand.
The boys were just starting their breakfast when Dr. Terreano came into the cafe.
The immunologist, Hoffer, was with him, sneezing into a handkerchief.
The two men glanced down the aisle, and Terreano spotted Jupe and smiled.
“How about making room for them?” said Jupe to his friends.
“Sure,” said Pete. “Let’s ask them if they want to sit with us.”
Jupe went to the front of the cafe and issued the invitation, and the two scientists accepted gratefully. They followed Jupe to the table.
“Very kind of you boys,” said Terreano as he sat down. His long, almost mournful face was resigned. “This town is a madhouse. I suppose it will be a madhouse until the summer is over and all the tourists go home.”
Terreano put a pat of butter on his plate. “We usually have breakfast at the foundation, but Jim Brandon is not very good company today. I understand how he feels, of course. This whole thing has been hard on him.”
Elwood Hoffer sneezed and smiled a tight smile. “Hay fever,” he explained to the boys. Turning to Dr. Terreano, he said, “It’s nice that you’re so understanding, Phil, but I personally feel there was no need for Brandon to call you a petrified reactionary.”
“Brandon is very highly-strung,” said Terreano mildly. “Right now