The Mystery of Wandering Caveman - M. V. Carey [27]
Brandon smiled. “When you talk that way, I get the feeling that I have been marooned in a nineteenth-century detective story.” He put the cast on his desk.
“Well, if you were hoping for a prehistoric creature, this isn’t it,” he said. “The person who made this footprint is used to wearing shoes. When a person goes barefoot all the time, the feet spread and the toes splay out. But the person who made these prints had narrow feet. Also, he has a hammer toe, which is unlikely for someone who doesn’t wear shoes.”
“John the Gypsy said it was a cave man, though,” said Bob. “He said it had long shaggy hair and was wearing an animal skin.”
James Brandon chuckled. “Do you really suppose that prehumans wore clothes? I don’t know what John the Gypsy thinks he saw, but the person who made this print is not the cave man. Not only are the feet too narrow — even assuming that a dead hominid could wander around — but the feet are too big.”
“Too big?” Pete looked startled. “But they’re small! Only nine inches.”
“Primitive beings were very small,” said Brandon. “I took measurements of the fossil in the cave, and from the size of the bones, I would say that our cave man was about ninety-five centimetres tall when he was up and walking around. That isn’t much more than three feet. The individual who made this footprint had to be at least five three or four.”
Brandon went to a cabinet that stood against the wall. “When I was in Africa,” he said, “I was fortunate enough to find an almost complete fossil skeleton that dates back almost two million years. It is slightly smaller than the Citrus Grove hominid, but it will give you an idea.”
Brandon unlocked the double doors of the cabinet and swung them wide.
Then he stood as if frozen, gaping at the empty shelves in front of him.
“It’s gone!” he said in a whisper.
Then, taking a deep breath, he shouted, “Gone! It’s gone! Someone’s stolen my hominid!”
Chapter 13
The Dead Man’s Note
JUPITER WON A SMALL victory over Newt McAfee that evening. He announced that since so many of the tourists who had come to Citrus Grove for the opening of the cave were gone, he and his friends would move from the loft to the campground.
McAfee hastily lowered his fee from ten dollars to three and the boys paid the money and retired to the loft chuckling.
For a while they lay in the darkness, pondering the events of the day. At last Pete said, “It’s wild. Open season on old bones.”
“I wonder when Dr. Brandon’s fossils were taken,” said Bob. “He’s been so busy with other things that he hasn’t looked at them for two or three months.”
“That would put it back in the spring,” said Jupe, “about the time Dr. Birkensteen died.”
Pete groaned. “Not that again. Birkensteen had nothing to do with fossils. There’s no connection, except that he lived here.”
“There’s Eleanor Hess,” said Jupe. “Is she lying about that trip to Rocky Beach?
She knew they were looking for an address on Harbourview Lane. Wouldn’t it be logical for her to know what the exact address was and who lived there?”
“True,” said Bob. “And she won’t look right at you when she talks about it.”
“And why are the pages missing from Birkensteen’s calendar?” Jupe persisted.
“What notations did Birkensteen make on those pages? Did he tear out the pages himself, or did someone else?”
“Hey!” Pete sat up in his sleeping bag. “Suppose Birkensteen was in touch with someone in Rocky Beach, and he just happened to mention the cave man. Couldn’t he have planted the idea of the theft there? We’ve been acting like someone in Citrus Grove had to be the thief, but maybe that isn’t true. The town was crawling with visitors today!”
“That might be possible,” said Jupe, “except Brandon didn’t discover the cave man until after Birkensteen died.”
“Oh,” said Pete.
“There still could be some connection, though,” said Jupe. “Maybe just less direct.
If we only had those missing calendar pages. And Birkensteen’s notes. The notes on his work in the last days might have a clue.”
“Or there might be a clue in Rocky Beach,” said Bob. “You said