Read The Great Gold Robbery for Free Online

might have lied.”
    “But just a little,” Hallgeir added.
    “We didn’t want to scare those two kids by telling them that no one at Scotland Yard dares to get close to the Crunch Brothers. Or worse yet, close to . . .” Helge lowered his
voice and whispered something.
    “What?” the king asked.
    Helge whispered again.
    “What did he say?” the king asked Hallgeir.
    “He said . . .” Then Hallgeir lowered his voice and whispered something.
    “Enough of this nonsense!” the king roared. “Who doesn’t Scotland Yard dare to get close to?”
    Helge walked all the way over to the king and whispered “Mama” into his ear.
    Hallgeir walked over and whispered “Crunch” into the king’s other ear.
    “Mama?” the king asked. “Crunch?”
    “Shh!” Helge said, looking around cautiously.
    “Double shh!” Hallgeir said.
    “She’s the Crunch Brothers’ mother,” Helge whispered. “She’s known as the worst thing to have happened to London since the Great Plague of 1665.”
    “She sees and hears everything, is impossible to trick, and is so horrible that no one will say her name out loud,” Hallgeir whispered.
    “Uh, pardon me for asking,” the bank governor said. “But how horrible can three bank robbers and their mother actually be?”
    “They play blood knuckles—you know, the card game—with anyone who tries anything,” Hallgeir said, his eyes rolling halfway back in his head in fear.
    The bank governor and the king gasped in unison. “Blood knuckles?” they asked, looking in horror at the two Secret Gourds, who crossed their arms and nodded ominously.
    “It’s not really so serious if you only lose four or five rounds,” Hallgeir said. “Then they just hit you on the knuckles a few times with the edge of the deck of cards
and it stings a little and your knuckles get a little red.”
    “But if you lose ten thousand rounds . . . ,” Helge said, rolling his eyes back in his skull so only the whites—and a little bit of red—showed.

    “What happens then?” the bank governor asked.
    “An agent from Scotland Yard once tried to infiltrate the family. Mama Crunch detected him, so they played bloody knuckles with him. He lost a big pot of ten thousand knuckle
blows.”
    The Gourds shook their heads in unison.
    “What happened?” the bank governor asked.
    “Unfortunately, that information is rated NC-17,” Hallgeir said.
    “I assure you I’m well over seventeen,” the king said with one eyebrow raised.
    “Yes, but what about the people reading this right now?” Hallgeir asked.
    “What?” the king said. “Reading what?”
    “He didn’t mean anything by that,” Helge said, shooting Hallgeir a stern look. “You know that’s a secret, Hallgeir!”
    “Sorry, I forgot,” Hallgeir said sheepishly.
    The king puffed out his chest and roared, “This is a royal command: SPIT IT OUT!”
    “They sliced the poor guy to bits with that deck of cards. He looked like a pile of shredded Parmesan when they were done with him.”
    The king and the bank governor stared speechlessly at the two Secret Gourd members.
    “What—what have we gotten them into?” the king moaned.
    “Oh, but I’m sure our three will do fine,” Hallgeir said. “They probably won’t get caught.”
    “No,” said Helge. “I wouldn’t think so, no.”

The Art of Packing for a Trip—to London, for Example
    “THERE’S AN ART to packing,” Doctor Proctor said as he pulled a worn golf bag off a basement shelf. “What you
don’t
bring is just as
important as what you do bring. Let me hear about how you packed, my friends.”
    “I’m bringing this backpack,” Lisa said, pointing to a red hiking backpack. “I’ve got toiletries, six changes of underwear, rain gear, a pocketknife, a pair of wool
socks in case it gets cold, a first aid kit, a small flashlight, and a pair of extra good shoes in case we have to do a lot of walking.”

    “Aha!” said Doctor Proctor. “Spoken like a professional