Read Wrath of the Grinning Ghost for Free Online Page B

forehead in thought. "Nothing," he said slowly. "That's the strangest part of the whole story. I don't know what happened to the book. It just disappeared from where I dropped it."
    "Your father didn't pick it up?" asked the professor. "Think, John. It might be important."
    Johnny shook his head. "No. It was in my room, and he didn't even come in there the next morning. I'm pretty sure Dad forgot all about the book too. Anyway, he never mentioned it to me again after that night."
    Professor Childermass sighed. He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Babbling birds, sinister snakes, and vanishing volumes! Well, this is too deep for me! What did the poet Robert Burns say? 'The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft a-gley.' Know what that means?"
    Johnny, sure that the professor would tell him, shook his head.
    "It means," said Professor Childermass, "that no matter how well you plan and plot, fate always comes along and heaves a monkey wrench into the works! Take me, for example. I thought I was going to take the summer off and loaf, bake cakes, and beat you at chess. Libraries and books and research projects were the last things on my mind, but your adventure down in Florida calls for a little investigation. Tell you what, John. Give me a couple of days to work on these problems. We'll drop the whole subject until then, unless you manage to recall anything more about this blasted book that gave you the galloping woo-hoos. After I've found out a thing or two, we'll get together and see what's what. Is that agreeable?"
    "Sure," replied Johnny, and they left it at that.
     
    * * *
     
    During the next two days, Johnny fretted only a little over the mysterious book and the lucky coin. Most of the time, he and Fergie found plenty to do, and when Johnny was busy, he didn't have time for worrying about possible disasters.
    He and Fergie rode their bikes all over Duston Heights. They went looking for arrowheads in the park past Emerson Street, where a brook meandered among a chain of ponds. Sometimes in dry weather they found the arrowheads sticking out of the soil among the stones in the banks of the brook. Fergie had quite a collection of them, with the best ones displayed on black velvet in a wood and glass frame.
    When they got tired of amateur archaeology, the two boys gobbled rich, gooey banana splits or hot fudge sundaes in Peter's Sweet Shop, an ice-cream parlor with an old-fashioned soda fountain. Johnny liked the marble counter and high stools and deep wooden booths with curly sides. There were colored glass lamps, and a jukebox, plus a display case up in front with boxes of candy in it. The soda shop always smelled friendly, its air sweet with chocolate and vanilla and spicy with cinnamon.
    After they had stuffed their faces, Johnny and Fergie went to an afternoon matinee at the movie theater and sat through a double feature of horror films, The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms and It Came from Beneath the Sea. One movie was about a giant octopus terrorizing San Francisco, and the other about a dinosaur that had been frozen in the Arctic ice but came to life. Johnny and Fergie found both films more funny than scary, and Fergie laughed so hard during the second one that a grumpy usher shone his flashlight at the two boys and threatened to throw them both out.
    They spent some time in the cool, dusty stacks of the library, reading up on Spanish treasure and pirates. When they felt cramped from being inside, they played long games of flies and grounders. Fergie was much better at baseball and all other sports than Johnny would ever be, but Johnny had come along with some coaching from Sarah, and now he didn't feel quite so helpless with a bat or a ball in his hands.
    In other words, Johnny and Fergie enjoyed the gorgeous summer. The season was still young. June was not even halfway over, and exciting weeks stretched out ahead of them before school would start again in the fall. The two friends knew how much fun they could cram