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family meeting to order,” announced Mr. Lambchop.
    “Let’s begin by welcoming our esteemed guest,” said Mrs. Lambchop. “Mr. Dart, would you like a snack?” She slid a bowl across the table. It was filled with chips sprinkled with the secret ingredient that Stanley had recently retrieved from Mexico.
    Stanley stared at his hands. He was thinking that he should go to Africa to see the flat skull. Maybe he wasn’t so alone after all.
    “I want to get mailed to Africa,” he declared.
    “Absolutely not,” said Mrs. Lambchop. “It’s one thing to fly airmail to a major city like Tokyo, Cairo, or Mexico City. Who knows how often mail is delivered in the most remote regions of Africa?”
    “Your mother is right, Stanley,” said Mr. Lambchop. “It isn’t safe.”
    “But I have to! What if that skull is the same as me?”
    Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop exchanged looks.
    “No way,” Arthur blurted, as if reading their minds. “I am NOT missing another big adventure. Stanley gets to circle the globe, while I have to stay home and miss all the fun. It isn’t fair!”
    “These are the most delicious chips I’ve ever tasted!” said Mr. Dart, shoveling another handful into his mouth.

    “Maybe we should all go,” Mr. Lambchop suggested.
    “I can’t, George,” said Mrs. Lambchop. “I’m hosting my fund-raiser for the Grammar Society on Saturday. I still have to dot the i ’s and cross the t ’s on all of the place cards. Besides, how could we possibly afford airplane tickets to Africa?”
    “Perhaps you could fly courtesy of the Famous Museum,” said Mr. Dart. “After all, investigating a major archaeological find would qualify as official museum business. It’s the least we could do for you, Stanley, after all your help.
    “Of course, we could justify only two airplane tickets to our board of directors,” added Mr. Dart.
    Arthur groaned. “That figures.”
    “I could stay folded in the pocket on the back of the airplane seat,” Stanley offered, “so both you and Dad could come.”
    “You would do that?” said Arthur.
    “Sure,” said Stanley. “I’d only slip out from under the seat belt anyway.”
    “That settles it,” decided Mr. Lambchop. “Boys, pack your bags for Africa!”

Chapter 2
Nairobi
    Since becoming flat, Stanley had grown used to traveling long distances in small spaces. But the flight to Nairobi, the capital of Kenya, was particularly difficult. The flight attendant had insisted that Stanley could not be folded into a seat pocket—“That boy is nearly the size of a small sleeping bag, sir,” she had said. “It’s unsafe.” Despite Mr. Lambchop’s protests, she demanded that Stanley be checked underneath the cabin with the passenger baggage.
    As a result, Stanley had spent the entire flight in the noisy belly of the airplane, with no one to talk to except a very frightened caged poodle, a set of golf clubs, and many large suitcases. Stanley had a great deal of time during his trip to ponder how hard a life of flatness could be.
    Needless to say, he was very relieved when the rubber flaps on the baggage conveyor belt brushed his forehead, and he emerged into the bright light of the airport.
    “There he is!” cried Arthur. Mr. Lambchop ran up and pulled Stanley off the baggage carousel. It felt awfully good to stretch out.
    The moment they stepped outside, the three Lambchops were surrounded by people offering to take them wherever they wanted to go.
    Mr. Lambchop pursed his lips and peered around, looking lost. This made people shout more loudly. Someone yelling, “You need a taxi!” almost knocked Stanley over like a piece of cardboard.
    “Stanley, where’s your brother?” Mr. Lambchop asked suddenly in a panicked voice. Stanley glanced around and saw nothing but a sea of arms waving in his face. “Lift me up,” he said, and Mr. Lambchop raised him over the crowd like a periscope. Stanley saw Arthur making his way through the crowd, followed by an African boy about