

The Arrow That Would Not Miss

by

Matt Musson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Matt Musson on Smashwords

The Arrow That Would Not Miss

A Jeep Muldoon Adventure

Copyright © 2009, 2011 by Matt Musson

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Chapter One - Just Hanging Around

Dangling from an impossibly thin climbing rope, sixty feet up the sheer rock face of Mingo Falls, I pleaded with God.

"Dear Lord, please don't let me splatter across the forest floor like an overripe melon!"

Suspended twenty yards above certain death, I bargained with the Creator. If by some miracle I got over the ledge safely, I promised not to strangle Charlie Sinclair, our club president, for organizing this insane rock climbing expedition to the Qualla Boundary of the Cherokee Nation.

Now, I am not afraid of heights. I am terrified of them!

So, all I could hear was the thump, thump, thump of blood coursing through my ears. And, my single minded focus was on making it up the rock face alive. So, at first, I did not recognize the persistent tone of treasure buzzing through my subconscious like a gnat flying circles around my head.

I know at some level I must have heard it calling. Take it from me, there's nothing that compares to the sound of a 40 caret blood red ruby. But, I was centered on my climbing harness, my foot and finger holds and anything else keeping me from plunging to an untimely death. So at first, I overlooked that little ditty.

If I had not passed directly in front of the drilled out crevice where the ruby's song was loudest, I probably would have kept moving up the slab like the thousands of other climbers that have scaled these falls before me. After all, a contoured stone plugged the small cave opening. And, it was covered with a plaster-like mixture of hardened clay and lime. Finally, the entire wall was carpeted by thick clumps of damp slippery moss that camouflaged the site so effectively that for 800 years the cache inside lay unnoticed and undisturbed.

The ruby's song was so clear and resonant that it finally broke through my fear. The crystal called out with a tone unlike any I have heard before. But, I never dreamed I was being summoned by a legendary artifact of the Cherokee people.

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Chapter Two - Retrieving a Mystery

Even though I knew there was something amazing hidden in the sheer cliff face in front of me, I was still dangling sixty feet off the ground. And, I still felt like barfing up my breakfast. So, I did what any sane person would do in my situation. I used my climbing boot to scrape an 'X' in the moss to mark the location of the hidden cavity. Then I got my skinny butt up Mingo Falls as quickly as I could!

When I was safely over the top, I kissed the ground, thanked God, and celebrated my safe deliverance from certain tragedy. True to my pact with the Almighty, I resisted the temptation to grab Charlie by the neck and squeeze with all my might. But, as I lay sprawled there on the summit, my anger rose to the surface when the guys began to kid me about what I believe is a completely natural instinct for self preservation.

"Come on, Jeep. Don't be a baby. It's not that bad," said Charlie. "We all made it to the top and it was fun!"

"That's easy for you to say!" I replied. "But, I have a healthy respect for Gravity. If God had meant for us to climb, we would have been born Kudzu!"

Charlie Sinclair is a nice guy. He is tall and good looking and probably the most popular guy in our entire middle school. And, not only is he a smooth talker, he has big green eyes and fine brown hair that girls are always running their fingers through. (I finally had to put my foot down to keep my Mom's hands out of our Charlie's locks.) But, at this point I did not care that he was our club president. After that climb, I was ready to start a revolution.

However, before my insurrection got started, Freddie Dunkleberger added his two cents.

"Yeah, Jeep. It's not that high," the little red head chided.

"Not that high? Are you out of your mind? That fall would kill you quicker than a Great White Shark with rabies!"

"That fall wouldn't kill you," Shad McReynolds disagreed.

"No?" I asked in disbelief.

"No," he said. "It's the Stop that would kill you. The fall would be fun... while it lasted."

I let the subject drop.

I had only myself to blame for this climbing expedition anyway. A few months back I found a gold watch in the lining of a jacket in a thrift shop in Granite Falls. The watch belonged to a recently deceased railroad worker named Tolbert Brown. When we returned the watch to the family, Mr. Brown's grandson, Alton, who runs a camping outfitter called ExtremeClimb, offered to take us mountaineering for free.

I guess I should mention that I live in the small mountain community of Granite Falls. And, I go to Granite Falls Middle School with my friends Charlie, Thor, Bogdon, Toby, Freddie and Shad. We are the Granite Falls Rangers – a science club that solves mysteries and has adventures.

My crazy Aunt Starshine would say we 'embrace life', while walking that fine line that boys face today. You know the one - where if you are caught having too much fun they pump you full of Ritalin?

I should also mention that I find things. And, the reason I find things because I sort of inherited the finding 'gift' from my grandfathers.

My Grandpa Gus was a well driller that could always find water. My Grandpa Charlie was a mining prospector that found fortunes in precious minerals and gemstones. When the two families mixed together I was born with a double shot of locating genes.

Grandpa Gus and I have a special bond. When I was small, he trained me to use my gift. And today, he never misses a chance to give me a word of encouragement or wisdom about how to survive in this crazy old world. And I am even named after him: Gustaf Philip Muldoon II.

Because Grandpa Gus lived with us for a while, everyone called me G.P. to keep the two of us straight. Everyone that is, except my little sister Jenny who was too lazy to say G. P. She called me 'Jeepie' instead. That nickname was eventually shortened to Jeep. (Although Jenny still calls me Jeepie whenever she feels like being a butthead.)

Anyway, to sum things up: I'm Jeep Muldoon. I find things. Grandpa Gus trained me. And, my little sister Jenny is a butthead.

I don't tell many people about my gift because things can get all hinky. Either they start calling me up every time they lose their car keys – or they start acting like I am their own personal Lotto ticket and they want to mount an expedition to the Amazon to find the lost treasure of the Incas.

So, I try to keep a low profile. But, here at Mingo Falls, I located a treasure of historic importance to the Cherokee people. As much as I wanted too, there was no way to stay inconspicuous. This was way too big to hide. This was way too important to walk away from.

Anyway, after I caught my breath, I explained to the guys that hidden in the side of the cliff about twenty feet below was some sort major treasure. Knowing me and my history of locating good stuff, they did not have any problem accepting my story. But, we did have to talk Alton into rigging up Freddie, so we could lower him over the edge to explore my find.

We chose Freddie, because he is the climbing monkey of the group. He has shocking red hair and freckles and is just a smidge taller than a munchkin. And, although Freddie is overstuffed with old jokes and lame groaners, he is still the lightest of the Rangers. He is also a junior Daredevil – 'the boy without fear.'

As soon as he was harnessed up, Freddie scampered over the side with a hammer and some climbing spikes called pitons. He quickly found the X in the moss and began his excavation. After several blows from his mallet, the plaster covering fell away and revealed the contoured stone plug. Freddie sank a piton into the plug and attached a rope we lowered down to him. When we pulled on the rope, Freddie pried at the edges and the stone popped right out.

From atop the waterfall, we could hear Freddie below us admiring the contents of the open cavity. Then, he called for us to lower down a gear bag, and he placed several items inside. When he was done, we pulled Freddie and the bag back up the stone face and over the ledge.

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Chapter Three – A New and Ancient Friend

With Freddie back on top, we were anxious to see what he recovered. We had even drawn a small crowd by this time, made up mostly of other climbers and few day hikers drawn by this natural beauty of the falls. Freddie slipped out of his harness, lay the gear bag down and unzipped it.

Gingerly, he reached into the canvas sack and removed a carved wooden stick about eighteen inches long, covered in a checkerboard pattern of fine black and white beads. From one end of the stick stretched the well preserved foot of a raptor; like a hawk or maybe even an eagle. A cluster of feathers tied with leather straps, dangled from one end.

"Any ideas what that is?" asked Charlie, eyeing the black clawed talons.

All eyes turned to big Shad MacReynolds: the all time hamburger eating champion of Granite Falls. We turned to Shad because in addition to an almost unquenchable appetite, Shad is blessed with a televistic memory. He remembers everything he has ever seen on TV. And, because he has a fondness for documentaries and science programs he comes in handy in situations like this. If you ever have to phone a friend for a million dollar answer – Shadrack Mac Reynolds is the guy you want to call.

"It looks like an Eagle Wand to me," Shad suggested.

"What's an Eagle Wand?" asked my best friend Toby Trundle.

Shad's brain kicked in gear and he recited some ancient documentary answer word for word.

"The Eagle Wand was a native American peace symbol. It was made of Eagle feathers and sourwood. Only a professional Eagle-Killer could kill the Eagle, and then only with proper ceremony and preparation."

"That's from 'Way of the Red Man': A History Channel Production," he explained.

"What else did you find?" asked Toby.

Freddie reached back into the bag and carefully pulled out two stone tablets and placed them on the ground in front of us. They were about a foot wide and a foot tall, and were covered with small symbols that reminded me of a picture of Sumerian clay tablets in our world history book.

"Holy cow!" exclaimed Toby. "Native American writing! This is huge. This is like finding the Rosetta Stone or something."

"I'm confused," I said. "I did not know that Native Americans had their own writing. I thought they just relied on spoken languages or signing."

Shad enlightened us with another documentary tidbit.

"The Cherokees have their own alphabet invented by a tribal silversmith named Sequoyah. Sequoyah dealt regularly with whites who settled in this area. He was impressed by their writing and referred to white correspondence as 'talking leaves'. Around 1809, Sequoyah created the system of writing for the Cherokee language."

"That's from 'The Red Man's Way', a special presentation of the Discovery Channel," Shad added.

We stared at the tablets for a few seconds. Then our club's chief scientist Bogdon Peabody made an observation.

"This is not an alphabetic representation. Those are pictographs. The words in these tablets are represented by pictures and not letters. I don't believe this is Sequoya's alphabet."

"It's not even the Cherokee language," added a voice from behind us. "It's Ani-kutani."

"Ani-ku-Whatie?" I asked, turning to see who made the comment.

That is when I came face to face with what looked like the oldest man in the world.

He was dressed in dark blue strait leg jeans and a blue work shirt buttoned to the top. He was short and wiry with prominent Indian features. His nose was large and beak-like. He had high crinkled cheekbones and dark sunken eyes. Wispy snow white hair flowed down across his shoulders. And he had wrinkles on his wrinkles.

The old Indian explained, "The Ani-kutani were the ancient priesthood of the Cherokee people. According to Cherokee legend, the Ani-kutani were exterminated during a mass uprising by the Cherokee approximately 300 years prior to European Contact. The People revolted because the Ani-kutani had become despotic and oppressive."

"That's from 'History of the Cherokee' – a Learning Channel special feature," the old man chuckled.

"I'm George Guess," the old Indian continued. "Call me George," he said, extending his hand and shaking with each of us.

"I'm sort of an amateur Cherokee historian," George continued. "Do you mind if I have a look at your find?"

I handed over the wand and the tablets. He examined each item in a precise and meticulous manor, like he was committing every detail to memory. And, he was not just relying on his eyes; he ran his finger tips over the items and then delicately smelled each piece.

"Yes," he concluded. "This is a very old Eagle wand and these are Ani-kutani tablets."

George explained, "these are very important items for the Cherokee people: historically, culturally and spiritually. We need to show these to Walter Yellow Horse over at the museum. He has an Ani-kutani Syllabary, kind of like a translation manual. He may be able to decode these tablets for us."

"George?" said Freddie. "There is one more thing."

Freddie reached into the gym bag and pulled out the gemstone that interrupted my scaling of the falls. It was a flawless pigeon blood ruby of about forty carats. (Pigeon blood is the darkest, most sought after type of ruby.) It was a priceless stone, easily worth millions. But, there was something special about this ruby. It had been chipped and flaked into a menacing, razor sharp point. And, that point was at the head of perfectly straight wooden shaft with spotless white feathers inserted at the end.

It was an arrow.

I don't believe that Freddie could have gotten more of a reaction if he had reached out and slapped the old Indian! George's eyes almost popped out of their sunken slits and he crossed himself. Then, he began to kind of sway and hop and started chanting in a language that I assumed was Cherokee.

Freddie just stood there looking sheepish and holding the arrow as George danced a complete circle around him. Then the aged Indian bent over and picked up a handful of the copper colored dirt. Sticking his hand out in front of his face, he blew dust to the East, to the North, to the West and to the South. Finally George blew a cloud of dust directly into Freddie's face.

Freddie coughed and choked. "Hey! What's the big idea?"

"Sorry," the ancient Red Man apologized. "But, this arrow is very dangerous. It's the reason that the Ani-kutani were exterminated."

Then, George reached out and gingerly took the arrow from Freddie's hands. He examined the object carefully, holding the arrow up to his eyes and sighting down the length of the shaft. He drew his thumb and fore finger across one of the feather fletchets. Finally, he grasped the shaft at the top and ran his finger over the ruby arrowhead – testing its razor-sharp edge.

"This beauty here helped establish that dark period of oppression and cruel tyranny of the old priests. It gave them absolute power over The People. And, there is an old Cherokee saying: 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely.'"

George held up the vintage dart and pronounced, "This is 'The Arrow That Would Not Miss.'"

The words hung in the air like campfire smoke on a calm day.

"This arrow is very powerful. Its return is a tremendously important sign."

"A sign of what?" asked Toby.

"A sign of Great... or Terrible times," George answered thoughtfully.

The old Cherokee held the ruby arrowhead strait up and looked carefully at the crimson rays reflected by the afternoon sun. He studied the arrow for a few seconds in silence. Then he gingerly placed it back into the gym bag. He brushed his hands off and then announced to the group.

"There's no time to spare. We have something we must do immediately."

"What's that?" Toby asked.

"We have to sweat."

***************

Chapter Four – Sweating with the Oldies

It seems kind of funny to me now that we spent all afternoon getting dirty and sweaty trying to climb Mingo Falls. Then, we got up before dawn the next morning to attend a 'sweat' where the purpose was to clean and purify ourselves by perspiring. But, as outsiders, we were honored to take part in such a solemn and sacred ceremony.

George built the sweat lodge not far from the public campgrounds where our tents were pitched. The lodge had a willow framed dome covered with a tarp and some animal skins. There was a single door in the dome that opened up to a fire out front. As we sat in a circle inside the sweat lodge, a fire keeper heated up stones outside and brought them in one by one while they were glowing red. When enough hot stones were in place, the flap was closed and temperature inside began to climb. As leader of the sweat, George arranged for several other Cherokee Elders to join us and they brought drums and rattles. Together, we took off our shirts and sat around a circle of hot stones and prayed and sang.

We began the ceremony with the Lord's Prayer in English. Following that, most of the praying and singing was in Cherokee. However, some of the songs had familiar tunes. One song that we recognized was Amazing Grace. The elders sang it in Cherokee. Several of us joined in with the words of the English version that we remembered.

The entire ceremony lasted about as long a Sunday morning church service. It ended just about the time that the first orange rays of the morning sun began to peek over the eastern mountains. That's when George picked up one of the drums and began beating steadily. Without saying a word, he got up and moved toward the doorway. The fire keeper pulled back the skins and George walked outside, still beating his rhythm.

Single file, we followed the drummer as he led us to a nearby mountain stream. He did not even pause at the bank. He just continued walking into the water. The stream was cold, clean and shallow. We had to lean against current of the quick flowing water. But, it felt good against our overheated skin. We lined up facing east and seven times George said a prayer and seven times we said 'Amen' and plunged ourselves below the moving water.

And, then it was over.

Together we wandered back over to the sweat lodge and picked up our shirts. Then, with dry shirts and water soaked pants and shoes, we squished our tennis shoes over to a picnic table where some Cherokee women were setting up a breakfast buffet.

It was an amazing spread of traditional and Native American breakfast foods. We had country ham, egg and cheese casserole, a tasty Cherokee bread pudding, bacon laced hominy, grape dumplings and plenty of warm Indian fry bread.

We ate and ate until we could not hold another bite. Then we sat drip drying in the early morning sun, sniffing wood smoke and listening to the bird calls echoing through the tall mountain forest. We felt a kinship with the Cherokees and were honored to share their wondrous Qualla homeland.

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Chapter Five – Secret of the Arrow

Drinking in the still of the morning, we relaxed as our breakfast digested. But, before long, Toby and Bogdon began questioning George about the Cherokee religion.

"I was surprised," Toby observed. "Your ceremony incorporates so much orthodox Christianity."

"Well, boys, that has long been the Cherokee way."

George went on to explain, "Before the Europeans set foot on this continent, the Cherokees worshiped a single creator God. And, that God was a trinity of three spirits called Flames. And, we worshiped our God's Son, who suffered for our redemption. Eventually, Missionaries came to the Cherokee and brought the white man's religion. What they found was the God of the white man was already the Cherokee God."

"Amazing," exclaimed Bogdon. "So, the Cherokee already practiced an indigenous form of Christianity?"

"That's right," George agreed.

"Well, what about the Bible?" Bog inquired. "Do the Cherokee accept the Bible as the Word of God?"

"Absolutely," George replied. "But our understanding of God is flavored by our history of living close to the land and the animals. We have many Cherokee biblical scholars. And, the Bible was one of the first books printed using Sequoya's alphabet. Of course we also have our own stories of God's work among the People. The Hebrews were shepherds and people of the desert. The Cherokee are farmers and people of the forest. So, in our stories our faith is revealed to us by the forest and the animals that live in it."

"Okay," Toby examined. "If you had to sum up the Cherokee religion in 100 words or less, what would you say was its main tenants?"

George thought for a minute. Then a smile slipped across his lips.

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' and 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

We were awed by the simplicity of George's testimony.

"That sounds good to me," I said. "But, how does this arrow fit into Cherokee theology?"

"Well," George explained. "It's not really part of our religion. It's part of our folklore. Sometime in our deep past, close to 1000 years ago, a Ruby was found here in the mountains of North Carolina. It was commonly believed among Native Americans that gemstones get darker as they mature. So, this Ruby that was large, blood red and flawless was seen as an important elder among the crystals. With great ceremony, the Ani-kutani, the priest sect of the Cherokee people knapped the ruby into an arrowhead. This was before we adopted Tobacco for our sacred offering rituals. So, the story says that the priests made blood offerings to sanctify the stone. Once the arrowhead was ready, the premier fletcher of The People fitted it to a choke cherry shaft and fletchets made only from the white feathers of an eagle. Following days of prayer and fasting, the chief priest of the Ani-kutani received a vision. The arrow would never miss its target. In addition, it could divine the truth."

"At first, the arrow was a great blessing to the people. Once a year for the harvest festival, it was used in a ceremonial hunt. And, year after year the arrow never failed to bring down its quarry with a single shot. The arrow came to symbolize abundance and plenty for the People. And, it was used to settle disputes and arguments that came up. The belief was that the arrow always pointed to the truth speaker. So, the arrow brought justice and peace."

"That arrow does not sound so bad to me," Shad observed. "It might put all the lawyers out of business, and that might be a good thing. So, why do you think its evil?"

George pondered for a moment.

"The arrow is not evil. It is powerful. And, when evil men use its power, then we have a problem. Eventually, a group arose among the Ani-kutani who began to use the arrow for their own selfish ends. If someone spoke against these priests, the arrow was used to identify the dissenter. At first it was used to point out those that objected. But, eventually the priests began to shoot it into a group of suspects. According to legend, the arrow never failed to lodge in the heart of those who opposed the Ani-kutani."

"So there was no trial? No hearing?" asked Charlie.

"No," replied George. "There was no discussion. There was no dissent. There was just an arrow to the heart. And, the Arrow That Would Not Miss went from being a blessing for the People to being a curse. It was a terror weapon in the hands of these evil priests. And, no one dared stand against them. No one could oppose the priests and survive. The Ani-kutani lived like princes. They took what they wanted: always the best and the most. And, the People suffered for the next hundred years."

I shivered, as George continued, "finally a group of freedom loving braves made a secret pact. They agreed to give up their lives to free the People of this oppression. A band of 50 warriors called the Dead Men came to stand against the evil priests. They resisted knowing full well that the arrow would kill the bravest and purest among them. With the release of the bowstring a young Cherokee brave named Badger Boy fell mortally wounded and the remaining Dead Men attacked. These 49 quickly fell in the battle. However, their sacrifice bought time for a group of Cherokee women to retrieve Badger Boy's body with the arrow still jutting from his chest. When the body was removed and hidden, the Ani-kutani lost their terror weapon."

The old man shook his head in disgust.

"The priests were ruthless as they tried to regain the arrow. Entire villages were burned to the ground. Hundreds, maybe thousands, were executed. But, the arrow was never recovered. And, these final merciless acts pushed the People into rebellion. The former slaves rose up against their masters. And, the Ani-kutani were overthrown and hunted almost to extinction."

"The Cherokee were finally free once more."

George paused.

"The arrow has been hidden for over 800 years. It was not seen again until yesterday, when Jeep found it lodged in the cliff face at Mingo Falls."

We stood in silence, reflecting on the story, and the casual cruelty of a random arrow to the heart.

"Maybe we should put it back," I suggested. "I don't want anybody to be hurt because of some rock I found."

George looked at me in surprise.

"You would throw away a priceless treasure just like that?"

"Hey. Easy come. Easy go," I replied weakly.

George smiled and put his hand on my shoulder.

"You have a good heart, Jeep. But, The Arrow That Would Not Miss was not found by accident. For 800 years, the arrow lay in wait. It called out to you because it's time has come again. Once more it is the season for abundance and for truth. The People just have to learn from their mistakes. The Arrow must be kept by those with pure hearts and hands."

"That's why the first thing we did was purify ourselves!" observed Toby.

"Exactly," replied George.

"Well, where do we go from here?" asked Charlie.

"To the museum," George answered. "We'll go to see Walter Yellow Horse. He's a city Indian. But, he's good people."

************

Chapter Six – The Museum of the Cherokee

The Museum of the Cherokee Indian is a modern wooden frame building in the center of the undersized city of Cherokee, North Carolina. It is carefully arranged in the middle of the heavily landscaped property. And, the walkway leading to the museum entrance is dominated by a giant wooden carving of Sequoyah that must be 20 feet high. The great statue shows a square faced man with a strong jaw and a prominent Indian nose and a turbaned head. From the back of the turban, a flat wooden feather juts up six or eight feet.

As we stood around admiring the statue, Shad could not resist showing off.

"You know, on the History Channel they said that Sequoyah once had three wives at the same time."

"Three wives!" I exclaimed. "He must have liked taking orders!"

"Anyway," Shad said, ignoring my comment, "he built each wife an identical thatched roof house made of river cane and plaster. He brought one wife a rug made from buffalo hide – and she bore him one son. He brought the second wife a rug made from antelope hide – and she bore him one son."

Shad grinned.

"Then, he brought his third wife a rug made from hippopotamus hide – and she bore him two sons."

Shad was smiling like a Cheshire cat and I knew we were in for a groaner.

"Does anybody know why the last wife had two sons?"

We all shook our heads, except George.

"That's easy. its simple mathematics," George answered. "The squaw on the hippopotamus is equal to the sons of the squaws of the other two hides."

"Ohhhh!" we groaned.

Freddie rebuked the jokester, "Shad, try not to embarrass us in front of the Native Americans."

"And a word of advice," George added smiling. "Don't ever try to fool on old Indian."

After that, we made our way into the lobby of the museum where George approached the ticket desk and spoke to a pretty dark haired woman. She immediately got up and slipped through the door behind her. Soon, she returned with a young Cherokee man wearing a grey suit with a starched white shirt and a maroon power tie. He had traditional Indian features and shoulder length hair but also he wore large black rimmed glasses and looked very official.

George introduced us.

"Boys, this is Dr. Walter Yellow Horse. He is the Director of the Museum of the Cherokee and has a PhD in archeology from the University of North Carolina."

We shook hands all around as Dr. Yellow Horse led us through the door and into the Director's office. Once we were settled around his desk, George explained why we were here.

"Walter, these boys were climbing at Mingo Falls yesterday and they made a very important discovery."

The Museum Director smiled, "George, if you say it's important, it must be. You are a hard man to impress."

"It's Ani-kutani, Walter," said George as he lifted the gym bag and placed it carefully on top of the desk.

"Ani-kutani? Are you sure?" Dr. Yellow Horse inquired. "How did you date the find?"

George unzipped the bag and reached inside.

"We did not have to," George explained. "There were two stone tablets filled with Ani-kutani pictographs."

Gently, George removed a tablet and laid it on the desk top to admire.

"Oh my," replied a stunned Dr. Yellow Horse.

He leaned over to inspect the tablet and you could see his hands were trembling slightly as reached down to caress it.

"You were right, George," he stated softly. "This is very important."

As Dr. Yellow Horse stood admiring the tablet, George put him on the spot.

"Walter. When was the last time you were purified?"

The director was transformed. He was suddenly a school boy who had forgotten his homework.

"Oh. Um... Let's see. Ah... I was going to do it today, but I had an early meeting. I, ah... I guess it was a week ago Saturday," he admitted finally. "Why?"

George paused for a second. Then, he confessed the main reason we were here.

"They found The Arrow, Walter," George said quietly.

"What do you mean?" the Director asked with puzzled look.

George repeated himself. "These boys found... 'The Arrow'."

The Director gasped, suddenly making the connection. "You mean The Arrow That Would Not Miss?"

George reached back into the bag. He removed the arrow and held it out with both hands.

"The Arrow That Would Not Miss," George confirmed.

"Oh my," said Walter Yellow Horse, PhD.

************

Chapter Seven – A New Home for an Old Treasure

It took a while for Dr. Yellow Horse to come to grips with the fact that we had truly found the historic Cherokee treasure. When it finally hit him, he got very excited and George had to calm him down. But, eventually Dr. Yellow Horse's Scientist side emerged. He moved us to the Museum's laboratory where he began recording everything and taking pictures and weighing stuff.

However, George would not let the Director touch The Arrow, until he completed a quick smudge purification. This is a process where a mixture of sage and cedar is burned and the smoke is used kind of like one of those mosquito candles. Except in this case, instead of mosquitoes it keeps away wickedness.

At some point, the Director was hit by a practical streak and he asked who exactly the arrow belonged to. So, we had to have an official Ranger meeting to figure that out. We met in a small conference room in the Museum and discussed the question.

Charlie pointed out that we always give stuff back when we know who it belongs to. In this case The Arrow obviously belonged to the Cherokee people. And, we all agreed to that.

However, Thor was wise enough to point out that we needed to insure that The Arrow was not misused. While The Arrow belonged to the Cherokee people, the only person we trusted to hold onto it was George.

So, Toby made a motion and Shad and Freddie seconded it and seconded it once more. Then, we voted unanimously to give The Arrow to the Cherokee people as long as its usage was approved by George Guest.

I think both George and Dr. Yellow Horse were pleased with our decision.

***********

By now, it was Sunday afternoon, and we had to start making our way back home to Granite Falls. We were convinced that things here were well in hand. Dr. Yellow Horse assured us that the museum would make a press release and have a proper exhibit opening for the items as soon as possible. And, the Rangers would get a formal invitation as Guests of Honor for the event.

George loaded us all into his old red pickup and drove us back to the camp ground. Our climbing instructor, Alton, helped us pack up all our camping stuff and load it into his van for the ride home.

Before we left that day, George Guest thanked us again. Then he prayed over each of us in Cherokee. And, lastly he mentioned something odd. He told us to get ready because we would be receiving a gift on account of our service to the People.

We had no idea what he meant. But, we were real tired and anxious to get back home. So, we threw the last few things into the van and climbed on board. Then, Alton started her up and we waved goodbye to George as we pulled out of the parking lot.

The ride back was quiet and uneventful. Once we got to Granite Falls, Alton dropped each one of us off at our respective homes. And, Mom and Dad met me at the door as I dragged in.

Mom asked me how my trip was, and I told her it was fine. Dad asked me if I met any Indians and I told him yes. Jenny sat on the couch watching TV and only looked up long enough to make a face.

Following the inquisition, I dragged myself upstairs where I unpacked my bag and threw the dirty clothes down the laundry chute. After a shower, I collapsed into bed. I could not ever remember being that tired. And, I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The adventure was over. Or, so I thought.

************

Chapter Eight – A Gift from a Friend

The full moon shone brightly on the clear cool evening. Heavily filtered light sprinkled down through the canopy onto the forest floor. But, my eyes saw through the darkness like it was midday.

I crouched low in the grass scanning for movement. When I was sure the coast was clear, I hopped up and padded silently through the undergrowth.

Sniffing the wind, I caught the scents of a dozen forest creatures. But, none was a threat, and I was not in a hunting mood. So, without a sound, I traveled down a well used game trail to where the forest met the mountain. As I moved up in elevation, the brush grew less dense.

I came to a spot where a giant boulder jutted out of the hillside. In silver moonlight, it was like the bow of a great ship, sailing out of solid rock. On my sure footed paws, I scampered up the side of the boulder. My claws had no trouble finding traction in the cracked stone.

I clambered on top and stood out on the rocky surface like the king of the world. Surveying the forest below, I was confident and relaxed. It was my home and my domain.

Suddenly, George Guest materialized on the rock beside me chanting in prayer. He smiled and raised his hand in friendship.

"Jeep," he said. "It's good to see you."

I made my way over to the old Indian and rubbed up against him. Then, like some over large alley cat, I stretched out my front paws and purred softly.

George reached over and scratched between my ears. He spoke in Cherokee. But, I understood every word.

"I supposed you might be the Lynx," George explained. "The Lynx is the Keeper of Mystical Secrets."

George paused for a bit and then resumed speaking.

"This is your gift from me, Jeep: the revelation of your animal guide. Look to the Lynx for grace and for skill and as your example in life. You have a mystical side to your nature. But, you are also endowed with great insight and awareness. You don't have to be the leader, and you can travel your path alone. However, each one of your Ranger friends has their own strengths and skills. In unity there is great power."

"Always remember," he commanded. "Remember how important friendship is. It is a treasure greater than any gemstone or artifact you will ever locate."

Then I watched as George shape shifted into a huge majestic eagle. The Eagle dove off the cliff spread his wings and caught an updraft.

"Remember," George screeched as he soared off into the star filled heavens.

For several moments I stood alone at the top of the boulder staring out into the night. Then, I yowled loudly at the full moon and the forest below.

Finally, I lay down on my belly, stretched out and closed my eyes.

Everything went black.

************

Chapter Nine – Tree House Revelations

The next afternoon after school we met up at our primary clubhouse which is in a giant oak tree growing behind Freddie's grandparents' home.

One by one we assembled, acting nonchalant. We were partly afraid of ridicule and partly in denial. We tried to act like nothing had happened. We pretended like we hadn't all experienced a mystic dream / vision the night before.

We kept up the pretense, for as long as we could. But, it was probably only twenty minutes before our charade crumbled.

Freddie had just finished changing the water for our insane African Gray parrot, Rottweiler. And Rott was perched on Freddie's arm eating sunflower seeds one at a time.

"Rott," said Freddie in a sing songy voice. "My spirit animal is the Otter. Can you say Otter?"

"Of course I can," replied Rottweiler indignantly. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Freddie did not answer. He did not have a chance to. The dam broke and the whole club started talking at once. Some of the guys even began shouting out their animal spirit guides.

It took a while to calm down and sort things out. But, here is the scoop on each Ranger:

Freddie's guide is the otter. The otter is a playful creature. But, he is known as a logical thinker and a truth seeker.

Thor's guide is the horse. The horse is wise and strong. He is also trustworthy and determined.

Shad's guide is the bear. The bear is known for his gentle strength. But he is also introspective and likes to dream.

Toby's guide is the hawk. The hawk is a messenger of insight, known for his adaptability and openness.

Charlie's guide is the mountain lion. The mountain lion represents leadership and wisdom in balance.

Finally, Bogdon's guide is the Raccoon. The raccoon is prized for his curiosity and inquisitiveness.

Then, it was my turn to speak.

"I am the Lynx," I said triumphantly.

That's when Rottweiler decided he had gone far too long without being the center of attention.

"So?" Rott squawked, raising his feathered crown. "Paul is the Walrus."

Rottweiler laughed at his own joke. "Hah Hah! Paul is the Walrus. Paul is the Walrus."

Rott whistled sharply. Then, he flew out the tree house window dodging the branches outside.

We just looked at each other and shook our heads. Toby spoke for us all when he said, "Sometimes, I worry about that bird."

Following our collective revelation, things returned to normal pretty quickly. We were continent knowing we left The Arrow in good hands. A few days later, the Granite Falls Gazette, published a photograph of George Guest and Walter Yellow Horse holding the ancient treasure. There was a short article that Dad read to us at the breakfast table about how it was discovered by kids hiking through the area.

"Boy! How would like to find something that?" asked Dad.

I smiled and agreed it would be pretty neat. But, I did not bother to enlighten him on the facts that were left out of the story. After all, you just never know how parents will react to the details. If Dad was happy with what he read in the paper, I figured it was best not to stir the waters.

And once more, I thought our adventure of The Arrow That Would Not Miss was over. And it was.

At least, for now.

************

Chapter Ten – Changing Seasons, Changing Times

Weeks passed and The Arrow was less and less on our minds. We relaxed, knowing it was in the secure hands of George Guest and Walter Yellow Horse. Besides, we had other fish to fry.

Even though School had not started yet, Chief Scientist Bogdon Peabody was already getting anxious about his entry for this year's Caldwell County Science Fair. He recruited us to help prototype several projects he was considering. The most promising experiment was a contraption Bogdon designed to bounce a laser beam off the moon base reflectors left by the Apollo astronauts.

The apparatus went together quickly and when finished it looked for all the world like a three tiered wedding cake. The large bottom consisted of ten laser pointers we bought at Staples, evenly spaced and fastened to a circular frame. They were arranged to fire their beams straight up into the second layer, where mirrors bent the light beams toward the center of the third layer. At the top of device we mounted a high power amateur telescope we bought at a second hand shop in Hickory. But, this short, squat star gazer was installed upside down. The larger front concave mirror was on the bottom and the smaller eyepiece was at the peak.

When we turned on the bottom tier lasers, they reflected off the middle tier and into the telescope's 4 inch front lens. That lens combined and concentrated the multiple rays of light into one single coherent beam that shot out of the telescope's eyepiece.

For several nights in a row we fired our laser contraption toward the moon base hoping for lucky hit on the reflectors and Bogdon spent the last week of the summer adjusting the device's aim. When he pressed the master switch, coherent light flowed out of the top lens of our 'laser cake' all the way to the Sea of Tranquility.

We had almost given up hope but on the fifth night, about three seconds after we engaged it, the reflected beam flashed all the way back from the moon. The photon receptor set up beside the tree house began to click and clack like a Geiger counter.

Extra-terrestrial light! We had done it.

We celebrated, shaking hands and slapping each other on the back. And, I thought shooting light to the moon and back was a big deal. But, Bogdon was not satisfied.

"It's too easy," he complained. "Anybody could build this. If I enter it in the Science fair, Stuart Sonoma will crush me like a bug!"

(Stuart Sonoma attended Lenoir Middle School and was Bogdon's scientific arch rival. Together, Bogdon and Stuart competed for the designation of Catawba Valley's premier science student. And, the winner always brought home the coveted symbol of science fair supremacy: the Old Oaken Slide Rule.)

"Yep," Bogdon surmised. "It will take more than this to hold off Stuart Sonoma. Plus, if I turn in a project this elementary, people are going to say that I am just phoning it in this year."

On the bright side, the project was not a total loss. We did submit our findings to Scientific American and were featured in the magazine's American Scientist column. It was not the Caldwell County Science Fair, but it was something.

Gradually the hot, hazy days of Summer gave way to the turning leaves and crisp icy blue skies of Autumn. Summer vacation was behind us and Middle School started in earnest. This year we were returning as battle tested seventh graders, feeling so much older and wiser than the awkward six graders naively stumbling through our halls.

It seemed like we were on track for a great school experience and we had the world by the tail. Who would have imagined that our seventh grade trip down easy street would hit a unexpected detour, and our first genuine calamity of the new year would explode on the trivial occasion known as 'Career Day.' And who in their wildest dreams would believe Bogdon Peabody, the smartest kid in the Catawba Valley, would receive his first failing grade ever!

************

Chapter Eleven – Seventh Grade Begins with a Bang!

The trouble all started in our fourth period Language Arts Class. Bogdon allowed our teacher, Mrs. Knavely, to get his goat. He got angry, and he spoke without thinking. So, he stretched the truth a tiny bit, hoping it would be okay just this once. But, as often happens with a little white lie, this one did not stay little for long. In fact, it grew and mushroomed into a giant bone crushing falsehood. And, as the untruth spiraled out of control, it brought hysteria and confusion to Granite Falls and much of the Catawba Valley.

And, you know what the strangest consequence of Bogdon's tiny fib was?

The real live giant Thunderbird of folklore and legend actually paid our little town a visit.

***********

As I recall, Bogdon's career day lecture seemed to start out just fine. He was speaking about his plans to become a Crypto Zoologist. It was an interesting talk and Bog had gone to a lot of trouble. He even prepared a nice PowerPoint presentation explaining what a Crypto Zoologist is and what he does.

I remember sitting on the third row, sweating out my own report which was coming up next. I chose to report on being an author and a novelist.

Of course, I really could not have cared less about being a writer. But, I figured Mrs. Knavely, who is our English teacher, would have to give me a good grade on my choice. After all, writers write books. And, without books we wouldn't need English teachers.

Anyway, Bogdon was summing up.

"In conclusion, a Crypto Zoologist is like any other zoologist except he specializes in animals that may or may not exist. He applies the principles of scientific investigation to creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, hoping someday that his work will lead to definitive knowledge proving the existence or mythology of the creatures in question."

His last slide popped up showing a cartoon of the abominable snowman holding up a sign that said 'The End'.

I thought Bogdon had done a great job and that his humorous use of graphics was bound to get him an A.

Boy was I wrong! It turned out Mrs. Knavely was not in an A giving mood.

"Mr. Peabody," our teacher shrilled, "that has got to be the most pathetic career choice that I seen presented in my 35 years of teaching. Do I understand you correctly? Do you actually propose to go gallivanting around the world chasing fairytales?"

"But Mrs. Knavely," Bogdon replied defensively, "I thought I explained that many of these 'fairy tales' as you call them, have been proved by scientists to exist. The Panda, the Gorilla and the Giant Squid were all once thought to be mythological. Who can say that the Yeti, the Loch Ness Monster and the Giant Thunderbird don't each have a basis in reality?"

Mrs. Knavely, who never passed up an opportunity to trample on a student's dreams, continued.

"If those creatures were more than whimsy young man, they would have been discovered by now. This is a good opportunity for you to learn there is nothing new under the sun. Wasting your time and the time of the entire class has earned you a failing grade on this assignment."

With a self-important swish of her red marker, Mrs. Knavely left no doubt about it when she emblazoned a large F on Bogdon's paper and held it up to the class.

I winced.

I was not sure how Bogdon was going react. I know that he has never received a failing grade before. I would be surprised if he had ever gotten a C. But, there was Mrs. Knavely holding up Bogdon's paper showing that great big F to the entire class. I was afraid that Bog was going to cry.

Suddenly, Bogdon's voice range out defiantly clear.

"Mrs. Knavely! I will have you know that this is a scientific endeavor of the highest order. And, while the short sighted, the narrow minded, and the luddites might want to bury their heads in the sand, I for one choose to explore strange new worlds and boldly go where no man has gone before!"

Oh my Lord, I thought. Please make Bogdon stop talking! But, he just continued on and it was like watching a bad car wreck. I could not turn my eyes away.

"In point of fact," Bogdon stated. "These are not fairytales! I myself have seen, with my own eyes, the Giant Thunderbird, gliding across the thermal updrafts on the mountainous ridges of this very county."

Bogdon asserted emphatically, "the creature does exist! And, it is certainly worthy of scientific investigation!"

Bog took a deep breath and concluded, "And now, Madam, I await your apology."

In 35 years of teaching in the Granite Falls Independent School District, Mrs. Knavely had never apologized to a single student. She did not end her streak on that day either.

************

Neither Mrs. Knavely, nor the School Councilor, nor the Vice Principal, nor the Principal, nor Bogdon's parents actually believed that Bog had seen a giant thunderbird traversing the Granite Falls county side. However, Bogdon was a good student, who had never been 'sent to the Principal's Office' before, so a meeting of minds was held the next morning and a compromise was agreed upon.

The majority of those present, (although not necessarily Mrs. Knavely), were able to accept that Bog had in fact seen a Turkey Vulture which due to some unknown weather phenomena appeared larger than normal. Bogdon was still required to apologize to Mrs. Knavely, spend a week tutoring remedial science students and submit a new career day assignment.

The whole mess would probably have ended right then and there except our Ranger club president Charlie Sinclair had different plans.

"If they want proof," he said. "Let's give them proof. Let's build our own Giant Thunderbird."

And that is when the real trouble began.

************

Chapter Twelve – First Flight

To build a giant Thunderbird we started with a super large Radio Controlled Glider that we ordered at the Peabody Hobby Shop (Bogdon's Family's store – where you can get all kinds of great stuff). We shortened the body, extended the wings and added a small compressed air jet on the center of the fuselage. Then we attached a cut down 2 liter plastic bottle for a woodpecker-like head.

When we spray painted the whole thing black, it took on a vaguely avian appearance. We hot glued feathers to the underside of the wings, painted the head a nice shade of tomato red and gave it a white tipped tail. Then, it really began to look convincing.

It only took a couple of days to build the creature. And, by the time Bogdon completed his after school sentence, we were ready to head for the mountains to try the thing out. The wings and tail were removable for easy of transport, so we loaded up all the pieces in the club golf cart and headed off.

The first couple of practice flights were short experimental ones. We had never flown a Thunderbird before so we wanted to take things easy at first. We did not want to crash it before we had our fun.

After a couple of adjustments to the flaps, we added some small lead weights to the fuselage to lower the center of gravity. Soon, we were confidently flying our creation, taking advantage of the updrafts rising along the cliff faces.

The jet worked out better than we had hoped. It ran out of air quickly – but it was very powerful and could not be heard at all if the giant bird was above 100 feet.

Freddie, who has some artistic talent, painted lifelike eyes and a mouth on the creature. After that we decided that since it looked so real, it needed to have a name.

"How about 'His Royal High Ness'?" Shad suggested.

"Naw," said Thor. "I like 'Fowl Play'."

"What about 'Bird Flew'?" I proposed.

But we eventually took a suggestion from Toby and agreed to christen the aircraft 'Gull-ible'. After all it flew like a giant seagull and we hoped that the more gullible residents of Granite Falls would be taken in by our little con.

We were all set now. We just needed the right time and place for Gull-ible's coming out party. And almost like we planned it, the perfect opportunity was soon upon us.

For years, Miss Tilley Transoo (rhymes with blue) had been the President of the Granite Falls 'Friends of Feathers' Club. This was because Miss Tilley had identified more different kinds of birds in the Granite Falls area than anyone even knew existed here. She had not once, but three times, spotted birds that have never been previously reported in this hemisphere!

Lucky for us, the very next Saturday, Miss Tilley was leading the 'Friends' on their annual bird outing to Memorial Point. This field trip would give the birders a front row seat when we launched Gull-ible from an abandoned Mica Mine up on Buckner's Knob.

On the day of the first flight, Freddie and Shad went along with the bird watchers. They told Miss Tilley that they brushing up on bird identification for their upcoming Boy Scout exams. Their secret task was to point Gull-ible out to the group in case no one else spotted him.

The rest of us guys took the club golf cart and drove the disassembled bird up into the mountains. When the road ran out, we parked the cart and hiked. Luckily, the glider was strong but light.

We were so anxious to get our bird into the air that we made the trek in record time. The hardest part of the trip was to sit by the mine opening and wait for the perfect launch window.

The sun was just going down and the shadows were lengthening when we brought Gull-ible out of the tunnel for his big debut. Conditions were ideal for the flight. The wind was light. The sky was clear. And, the electronics were functioning perfectly.

It took three of us to lift the big bird. Then on Bogdon's signal, we held him above our heads and ran out of the mine along the old ore cart tracks toward the edge of the cliff. We stopped short about 10 feet from drop off, where the tracks began curving. But, Gull-ible kept sailing forward and across the sky.

The big glider flew directly out from the ridge over the valley below. After gliding straight for a couple of minutes, Bog put the aircraft into a slow turn to the left, vectoring it towards Memorial Point.

Bogdon dove Gull-ible slightly and we could see him pick up speed as he moved toward the ground. When the glider was a few hundred feet directly above the old marble monument to the Heroes of the Confederacy, Bog turned the aircraft into the wind.

Gull-ible slowed for a minute and it looked like he might stall and crash. But Bog switched on the air jet and the big bird powered forward. Gull-ible quickly soared over the old marble monument to the Heroes of the Union, and then whipped around for home.

I'll admit from a distance, the sailplane really did look like the world's largest Buzzard.

Steadily gaining altitude, Gull-ible flew straight for the mine. Bog shut off the jet and the aircraft coasted in softly, and touched down safely on our ledge.

It took less than five minutes to disassemble the glider. Then, we packed up the wings, the tail, the fuselage and all the extra pieces and headed home. We had plans to meet Freddie and Shad at Darby's Ice Cream Stand for a post flight debriefing. And, we could hardly wait to get back to town and find out if Gull-ible had made an impression.

***********

When we met up in Darby's an hour later, the place was buzzing. Everyone in town was talking about the giant bird that was spotted over Memorial Point. Shad and Freddie gave us a quick rundown of Gull-ible's first encounter with the 'Friends of Feathers'.

The birders were searching for a red crested titmouse over near the monument to Confederate Heroes when a object passed directly overhead casting a tremendous shadow. When the group looked up and spotted the enormous thunderbird bedlam erupted.

The 'Friends of Feathers' had never encountered such a colossal 'feathered friend' before and they panicked.

Some began jumping and pointing. Some grabbed their binoculars. Some grabbed their birding field guides. Some became hysterical and dived for cover.

One old woman hyperventilated and had to be helped to a bench before she passed out. But, her quick thinking granddaughter pulled out a cell phone and snapped a blurry picture of Gull-ible as he soared out of sight.

Granite Falls' most elite group of bird enthusiast was completely taken in by our man-made creature. Not one of the friends questioned the origin of the giant bird. In fact, Miss Tilley Transoo announced that she was going make a formal written report to the National Audubon Society and to National Geographic.

We were feeling pretty smug about our little hoax when we left Darby's and went home for dinner.

************

Chapter Thirteen – Instant Heroes

The next day was Monday. And as we walked into school that morning there was no question that Bogdon Peabody was the 'Man of the Hour'. He moved down the halls to his locker like he was leading a parade. Boys slapped him on the back and girls waved and smiled.

Bogdon was vindicated.

Then, as the day wore on, various school officials went out of their way to drop by Bogdon's classes. Every single one of them mentioned that they of course, had always believed Bogdon's story of the thunderbird.

Mrs. Knavely said nothing. However, when she turned back his grammar homework from the previous week, Mrs. Knavely wrote 'Very Good' next to Bog's number grade of 98. This was as close as Mrs. Knavely would ever bring herself to an apology.

After school that afternoon we assembled at the primary club house and had a good laugh reading the Granite Falls Gazette out loud. There on page two, below the fold, was the grainy cell phone picture with the caption: BIG BIRD SIGHTED AT LOCAL PARK. The photo was followed by two columns of eyewitness reports.

The reporter quoted Miss Tilley saying she had often seen large birds gliding around Buckner's Knob but she had been reluctant to report them. However, this sighting was made by the entire 'Friends of Feathers' organization and backed up with photographic evidence. She now felt confident enough to tell the world of Granite Fall's great black bird.

In addition to the newspaper retelling, Freddie and Shad kept repeating the story of Gull-ible's flight over Memorial Point. With each retelling, their descriptions of the crowd reaction were more and more exaggerated and we laughed harder and harder. Finally, we were sprawled across the tree house floor holding our sides, until Shad let one go.

And, let me tell you, Shad can clear a room out with the best of them!

Of course, he tried to blame Rottweiler. But, no one believed him, least of all, the Parrot himself.

Rottweiler kept darting around the tree house screeching, "The Smeller is the Fellar. The Smeller is the Fellar," over and over.

We finally climbed down from the tree house in search of fresh air. The meeting broke up and we headed home.

The next day was Tuesday. And, it started out just like every other Tuesday in the sleepy little town of Granite Falls – at least until I woke up.

I remember the alarm going off and the radio trying to rouse me earlier than I wanted to be roused. For a few seconds I laid there in bed, face down in the pillow, until the national news report began to sink into my sluggish brain.

"Renowned Bird Expert, Dr. Trilley Transtew, reported that the giant bird, twice the size of a California condor, flew dangerously close. One witness was quoted as saying, 'He was looking for something to eat – and he was definitely looking in our direction.'"

"However, Granite Falls Officials say they don't believe the giant creature poses any immediate threat to Public Safety."

I bolted upright in bed. I was wide awake now!

I had just finished brushing my teeth when I received a text from Toby:"Check the Net". I switched on my PC and pulled on my school clothes while it booted up. By the time I had my sneakers laced I was online. And it didn't take long to see our impact.

Websites for Yahoo, MSN, and USA TODAY all featured that cell phone photo prominently. There were captions like 'Super Eagle', 'Jumbo Buzzard' and 'Mega Condor'.

Then I checked the Drudge Report. The cell phone picture was at the top of the page with the caption 'Monster Bird Attacks Campers at National Park'.

I remember wondering right then and there if our practical joke had not gotten just a wee bit out of hand.

By that afternoon radio and TV reporters were everywhere. And the media blitz turned out to be more than we bargained for. Although, at first it was kind of fun.

Freddie and Shad were both interviewed for the Animal Channel. And, Bogdon was getting calls from all over the country – from Radio Disc Jockeys, Bird Watching Clubs and several people wanting to know if he had ever considered selling Herbalife.

And the whole town was hopping.

Everywhere people were scanning the skies. Every store in town was sold out of binoculars. Most reported a run on cameras and film and videotape as well. There was an air of expectation. Crowds were impatiently waiting, praying and even demanding to see the Giant Bird of Granite Falls.

And, Ranger Company A was not about to let those people down.

************

Chapter Fourteen – Air Raid: Granite Falls

It was Friday evening when Gull-ible made his next appearance. Once again, we waited until conditions were just right. The light was fading and the air was still. The last rays of the setting sun were shining dark golden on a few wispy purple clouds to the west.

We knew there were a half dozen professional photographers set up close to Buckner's Knob. And, we did not think that Gull-ible could stand the scrutiny of all those giant telephoto lenses and high definition cameras. So this time, we decided to launch him from Blackberry hill just west of town.

Thor's Grandfather's farm covers most of the backside of Blackberry Hill. So, we snuck Gull-ible there in pieces and assembled him in an old barn on the property. After a preflight check of the electronics and a test firing of the air jet, Thor, Charlie and I lifted the big glider over our heads. Then, together we ran down the grassy backside of Blackberry Hill until Gull-ible sailed out of our hands and into the sky.

Bogdon stood on top of the hill wearing special hands free binocular glasses and holding the RC control box. He fired the jet engine and the glider quickly gained altitude. Bog brought Gull-ible around and pointed him due east for Granite Falls.

Toby, Shad and Freddie were set up in a command post atop the old Hampton Arcade building that overlooked the East Side of town square. They had their own RC control box, so we could transfer command of the bird when Bogdon's signal started to weaken.

The launch team scrambled to the top of the hill, where we manned a couple of telescopes. From there we followed Gull-ible's progress.

I called Toby over the Walkie Talkie channel.

"Base to Opsite 2. Base to Opsite 2. The package is heading your way."

"Roger that base," I heard Toby reply. "I am reading you five by five and I confirm that the package is on its way."

I guess I should mention that over the last couple of days we had given Gull-ible a few minor upgrades that we looked forward to trying out. We added some red LED lights for eyes that we could switch on and off so it looked like the giant bird was blinking. We also, added a compact loud speaker. When Bogdon hit a button, a greatly amplified recording of a Rottweiler squawk was broadcast across the sky.

Shad really wanted to add a remote control bird poop option where a touch of a button would result in an enormous deposit of white goo on observers below. Unfortunately, he and Freddie could never come up with a realistic poop substitute – so the idea was scrapped.

"Opsite 2 to Base. Opsite 2 to Base. The package is in sight. We are now taking control."

Until then, it had been a quiet evening in Granite Falls. A few after dinner strollers were walking the square. Some citizens were lined up at the Custard King for a frozen treat. Several unmanned news vans surrounded the courthouse, while the reporters were in Lenoir twenty miles north, enjoying fancy expense account dinners.

The guys at Opsite 2 told us later that Gull-ible came in like a stealth fighter. Flying out of the setting sun, no one spotted him until he just blocks from the center of town. And, since the glider made almost no noise, it wasn't until Toby hit the squawker that anyone besides us realized the giant creature was back.

"SQRAAWWKKK!"

Gull-ible screeched much louder than we anticipated. And, he got the attention of everyone in earshot.

It probably did not take the glider more than a minute to sail the final two blocks into the square, make a tight circle and head toward the sunset. But, from our perch up on Blackberry Hill we could see pandemonium spreading across the town like engulfing flood waters. What had been a quiet evening in Granite Falls was quickly turning into a free for all.

At first, the pedestrians turned and put their hands to their eyes to shade the glare of sunset. Then their arms would go outstretched as they pointed out the approaching bird to their companions. About that time Toby must have hit the squawker again because people suddenly went running for cover as the red-eyed monster soared in close over head.

The Custard King looked like a frozen custard battle zone. Startled patrons launched cones and cups into the air and with regularity the ice cream ended up on innocent bystanders. The cones that did not land in someone's hair came down on the sidewalk, where people scrambling for safety hit melting custard globs and went sliding.

Gull-ible was gone as quickly as he appeared which was our plan from the beginning. And, as the giant bird screeched off into the darkening sky, the panic drained out of our little town. But he left behind a stunned populace sporting a variety of minor scrapes and strains.

None of the professional photographers got any pictures. There were a couple more grainy cell phone photos and one or two amateur tail shots of the big bird flying off. Most of these showed only a black blob-like shadow heading west. But, there was no question that the giant thunderbird had paid Granite Falls another visit.

Over a hundred eye witnesses reported the giant black creature arriving with burning red eyes and a frightening call. There was speculation that he might be angry that so many people had been disturbing his nesting area up on Buckner's Knob. A bird expert from the State University suggested that it could even be mating season and that the creature was calling for a female.

************

Chapter Fifteen – Bird Chaser from Way out West

Following his second appearance, Gull-ible was back on front pages across the country. And, for the next few days, people poured into Granite Falls from all over the place. And, I am not just talking about birdwatchers and news reporters. There were all kinds of people coming into town. Suddenly, we had a carnival on our hands.

There were T-shirt vendors on every street corner, all hawking the same white shirts with the same cell phone picture on the front. Plus, food merchants swarmed in to sell all kinds of fair food, including two separate Funnel Cake trailers set up on opposite ends of Main Street. One sold Condor Cakes and the other offered Giant Eagle Edibles.

Of course, the local folk were not going to pass up a chance for a piece of the big bird pie. The VFW post set up a BAR-BQ pit in the corner of the town square where they sold Monster Bird Legs (actually turkey).

There was even a TV preacher who came in and set up a revival tent in a vacant lot on the edge town. He was holding nightly services preaching that the big bird was a sign from God that the end was near.

For Company A of the Granite Falls Rangers – things could not have worked out any better. We were having the time of our lives.

**********

On Saturday morning the entire gang was wandering around town square. Shad was consuming his third funnel cake and Bogdon was autographing t-shirts for the crowd. Charlie had on a 'condor cap'; a baseball cap with a stuffed turkey on top that someone had spray painted black. If you squeezed the bill, battery powered eyes blinked and glowed.

We were enjoying the effects of our little charade and basking in the festive atmosphere, when we noticed a dusty tan colored pickup truck headed up Main Street. It was capped by a camper shell with long cracks in the fiberglass that were streaked with rust. The yellow and red license plate was covered with equal parts of dust and corrosion but we could still make out the tag line 'New Mexico – Land of Enchantment'.

As if on cue, a parking spot opened up in front of us on the east side of town square. And, the pickup wasted no time in pulling up and backing in.

Now let me point out, there are plenty of Eastern Cherokee, Occaneechi and Lumbee Indians living in our part of the state. Grandpa Gus claims that my own great, great, great grandmother hailed from the wild sweet potato band of the Cherokee Nation and married into our family to escape the 'Trail of Tears'. So, Native Americans are common in Granite Falls. They don't usually attract any special attention.

But somehow this visitor from out West was different.

As he stepped out of the cab, we saw he was dressed in a long sleeved blue work shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He had obviously traveled far – but he was anything but worn. His western boots shined. His work shirt was starched and crisp with an embroidered Thunderbird above the pocket. His jeans were ironed with a knife edged crease right down the front leg.

He was tall, with long dark hair that was swept back in a pony tail with a beaded leather tieback. He had large rounded brown eyes and a sharp curved nose. He was clean shaven and had a strong jaw with a cleft in the center. He was not young, but neither was he old. And, when he smiled his teeth shone brightly and his eyes sparkled.

He was like a fashion model Indian.

Without hesitation, he walked right down the sidewalk towards us. As he approached he stuck out his hand to Bogdon.

"Hello. Aren't you that Peabody fellow? The one who first spotted the giant bird? I've come a long way to meet you. My name is Rocky Many-Feathers. Most people just call me Roc."

Bogdon shook the big Indian's hand.

"I'm Bogdon Peabody and these are my friends: Charlie, Thor, Toby, Shad, Freddie and Jeep."

Roc shook all our hands one at a time. He got to me last and shook my hand. Then he abruptly crooked his head.

"Jeep?"

"That's me," I replied smiling.

Roc's smile disappeared and he was suddenly very deliberate. "Jeep, when the moon is full, does the Lynx ever come to visit you?"

I almost swallowed my chewing gum. I coughed and choked and finally managed to spit out, "Sometimes."

Roc nodded in a purposeful manner. Then, his smile returned, and he began the story of how he ended up in Granite Falls.

Although Roc was from New Mexico, he had in fact just come from Wisconsin where he had been visiting a white buffalo calf recently born there. The white buffalo is sacred to Native Americans and is a mighty omen of things to come. Roc was finishing a three day circle fast near Janesville, when he heard about the giant bird sighting in Granite Falls. He immediately packed up his pickup truck and headed our way.

Roc told us he had spent years tracking giant bird sightings all the way across North America. He had traveled to the Oregon, Wyoming, Pennsylvania and even Alaska during his quest.

Sometimes he arrived to find that there was a simple explanation for the sighting. Either an eagle or even a condor had traveled outside of its normal range and caused the report.

Other times, the sightings were clearly bigger than an Eagle. And, even bigger than a Condor. Roc believed it was the creature his people called Wakinyan. To the rest of the world it was better known as the Thunderbird.

Shad could not resist showing off his televistic memory.

"Like in Lawndale, Illinois?" Shad inquired.

Roc looked over kind of surprised, and then quietly he answered.

"Yes. Like Lawndale, Illinois"

The rest of us glared at Shad until he spilled the beans.

"Lawndale, Illinois. It was about 9 p.m. when two large birds appeared to a group of boys that were at playing in a residential back yard. The birds chased the boys. Two escaped unharmed, but the third boy, ten-year-old Kelley McColl, did not. One of the birds reportedly clamped his shoulder with its claws, and lifted McColl about two feet off the ground, carrying him some distance. McColl fought against the bird, which finally released him."

"Discovery Channel – Qwest for the Thunderbird", Shad added.

"The Discovery Channel was wrong," Roc said. "There weren't two birds. There were three. I talked to Kelley two days after the incident. He was sure there were three birds – two larger ones and one smaller one that stayed up in the tree."

"Well how come the Discovery channel never said anything about a third bird?" asked Freddie.

"Because, the boys were afraid to tell people the whole story. It seems they originally spotted the smaller bird. And, Kelley was throwing a Nerf football at the poor thing. Suddenly, her parents showed up – and Kelley got the ride of his life."

We chuckled at the thought of Kelley getting his just desserts from a family of giant thunderbirds.

"They didn't hurt Kelley, but you should have seen the big bite someone took out of his football."

Roc changed the subject.

"When did the great bird make her first appearance here in Granite Falls?"

"About a week ago," Bog replied guiltily. "Hum, then he showed up last Sunday evening and then again last night."

"And you never saw her before last week?"

"No. I am pretty certain that last week was his first appearance in the area."

"Good," Roc said. "I'm not too late this time. She'll be back."

"Why are you so sure?" Toby asked. "Maybe he flew off? Maybe he headed south for the winter? What makes you so sure that the bird will be back?"

"Because," Roc replied," the white buffalo said so."

Roc asked a few more questions. Then he thanked us for our help and asked directions to the grocery store. He was going to pick up a few things and then set up camp out at Memorial Point.

He got back into his old pickup truck. He started the thing up and headed off.

As he drove out of sight, Shad asked a question.

"Did he say that he talked to Kelley McColl two days after the incident?"

"Yeah," said Thor. "What of it?"

"That bird sighting? It was October 23rd, 1972. That was over 35 years ago."

Without saying a thing, we all watched Roc as he drove out of sight. Finally Toby broke the spell.

"Well, I guess he's a lot older than he looks."

*************

Chapter Sixteen – World's Prettiest Bird Watcher

Along with all the newsmen, the t-shirt sellers, the party goers and the general crazies that were taking up temporary residence in Granite Falls, there were also legitimate members of the scientific community.

After the second sighting – there was an influx of Ornithology (the study of birds) Professors from major universities. Also, an entire documentary crew showed up from the Animal Planet. Even representatives from the World Wild Life Fund set up a tent of the corner of the town square. (Then they promptly pulled it down and moved to the other side of the square to be closer to a hard partying team from the San Diego Zoo.)

And, everywhere there were graduate science students.

Graduate Students are college students who have already finished a four year degree and are working toward a Master's Degree or a Doctorate. Graduate science students tend to be the poorest of poor students. Most are scraping by with part-time teaching positions and maybe a little research money if they are lucky. They wear jeans with holes, ragged shorts, old t-shirts and sandals. They drive in cars that look like you have to push them to get them started. If the Grad Students are male – they don't shave their cheeks. If they are female – they probably don't shave their legs. On the whole, they looked like they could use a good meal, a hot shower and trip to the GAP.

However, Robin Kestrel was different.

Oh, Robin was a poor graduate student alright. She was studying Zoology at the University of Illinois at Springfield, where she was working on her Master's Thesis on the Flight Characteristics of Gliding Birds. Robin specialized in Buzzards and Condors – and when she heard about the Giant Bird of Granite Falls, she packed up her things and drove to town in an old VW mini-bus that had seen its better days. It chugged along like the little train that could. A peeling Lawndale Motors sticker fluttered from the license plate frame.

I will never forget that first time I saw Robin walking down Main Street toward the Custard King, where we were sitting at a picnic table enjoying our cones. She was wearing a simple peach sundress that was a little frayed at the edges but gave off a clean peachy glow in the autumn sunshine. She had flat leather sandals on perfect little feet and each toenail was flawlessly pedicured with opalescent polish. Her long blond hair shone like silken wheat, cascading across her tanned shoulders. Her round eyes sparkled sky blue and her teeth shined. She had a round face with a small nose and a big smile.

I could not help thinking how much she looked like Reese Witherspoon's prettier sister.

Her strawberry lip gloss shimmered in the afternoon sun as she shared a private joke with the African Grey Parrot that was sitting on her shoulder. I sat mesmerized as I watched her approaching. Something important was nibbling at my brain. But, I couldn't think. All I could do was stare at the vision gliding toward me.

"Hey. I recognize that Bird!" Bogdon finally said.

Then it hit me. So did I. That was Rottweiler sitting on her shoulder.

Robin walked right up to our table and stopped.

"Are these your friends?" she asked the Parrot. Rottweiler whistled and shook his head.

Robin reached up to her shoulder and Rott stepped onto her hand. Robin brought him up to her mouth and whispered into his ear. The bird chuckled.

"Well, thanks for your help, Rottweiler."

She lifted her hand and Rott took to the sky. He was heading back toward the clubhouse as Robin called after.

"I hope we can see each other again before I leave town."

She turned back to our table, and I realized the frozen custard was dripping down my hand. But, I didn't care.

"Hello. I'm Robin Kestrel," She said. "Which one of you fellas is Bogdon Peabody?"

For two full hours, the entire club sat on that bench completely enchanted. Robin asked questions about the Giant Bird and we gave her all the answers we knew and some we made up on the spot.

When she laughed it was like crystal sunshine.

I know that doesn't make any sense – but that's what it was like. And we did everything but put an ice cream cone up our nose just to hear her giggle. (Though Shad tried.)

She told us that she was really looking forward to seeing the Giant Bird of Granite Falls. We, of course, assured her that he was bound to be making another flight soon. In the meantime, we would happily show her around our little community.

Shad, who was particularly smitten tried to impress her.

"I know every bird in town," he said. "I'd be happy to introduce you."

Robin laughed out loud. She told Shad she might just have to take him up on the offer. Then, she stood up and walked off as we just sat there and stared.

Robin was not completely out of sight before her spell began to wear off. Freddie reached up and flicked Shad on his ear.

"I know every bird in town," he teased.

Shad ducked – but he did not turn around. There was something that he just could not take his eyes off of.

************

Chapter Seventeen – Pow Wow With Wakinyan

The next afternoon after school – we wandered around town square looking for a certain VW mini-bus. But, since we had no luck tracking down Robin – we decided to go hunting for Roc.

We rode our mountain bikes out to Memorial Point searching for our visitor from out West. We found him camped with a teepee pitched next to the big stone circle that the Granite Falls Daughters of Pocahontas use for their Annual Powwow Campfire and Weenie Roast. We could see the remains of a bonfire smoldering in the fire pit. A thick smudge of smoke was rising from the center and blowing right onto the stone where Roc was sitting with his eyes closed.

Roc's jeans and boots had been replaced with fringed leather pants and moccasins. The work shirt was gone. He was bare-chested – but a feathered cape hung down from his shoulders and his hands were stretched out from his sides. He had a headband with three different feathers sticking up from behind. There was a leather strip around his neck and a silver thunderbird talisman hung down across his chest.

We approached slowly and quietly. We did not want to interrupt. We caught the scent of cedar from the fire.

"It's a cedar smoke bath," Toby observed. "He is purifying himself."

For a minute we stood and watched as Roc gave no indication that he was aware of our presence. But then he slowly lowered his arms and put his head down for an unheard benediction. Then, he stood up and turned around.

"Hello Rangers," he said. "I've been expecting you. Let's throw some more wood on the fire and break out the hot dogs. It's time to celebrate."

When it comes to food – you don't have to ask us twice. We helped Roc open up a large blue ice chest and pull out packages of hotdogs and sodas. From a hamper came buns and chips and graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows.

In no time, the fire was blazing, and we were scarfing down dogs and S'mores, and washing it down with plenty of ice cold coke.

Roc was smiling and laughing. He even started squirting soda at us first, and we were happy to return the favor.

When we finished eating, we cleaned up the leftovers as darkness fell over the camp. Without thinking about it, we naturally circled around the fire pit and Roc shared ancient stories and traditions. He told of a yellow haired warrior who fought a bear the size of a mountain and of the salmon that jumped over the moon. Roc also spoke of the Thunderbird, the 'Wakinyan'. He told how it fought and killed the giant man eating reptiles that infested the plains and made room for the buffalo.

Finally, Roc sang a song of thanksgiving to the Great Spirit. The haunting melody flowed out into the darkness. As he sang, he stood up and walked around the fire. When he passed in front of Charlie, Roc stopped and leaned over. He pulled off his necklace and placed it over Charlie's head.

"This is for you," he said. "This is for bringing Wakinyan to town."

Roc's song and the party both ended. And, we all knew it was time to get on home. We thanked Roc for the occasion, and just before we started to pedal off I asked a final question.

"What were we celebrating, anyway?"

"It was my bachelor party," Roc explained. "My bride is coming to town and I will meet her soon."

Puzzled, we said a final good bye and switched on our head and tail lights. Together, the Granite Falls Rangers peddled quietly back to town.

************

Chapter Eighteen – Second Thoughts

The next day was our regularly scheduled official club meeting. And, it turned out that some of us were having second thoughts about sending Gull-ible out again.

"It's getting too risky," complained Toby. "The town is packed with telephoto lenses and high definition cameras. Just one lucky photograph and the jig will be up. Besides, Abraham Lincoln said it best. 'You can't fool all of the people all of the time.'"

"Maybe," Charlie countered. "But the United States Congress has proved over and over that all you need to do is fool 51%."

Toby thought for a minute and then he took a different track.

"Okay. I'm just not sure it is right for us to keep deceiving people. Some of these people have traveled a long way and all we have to show them for their trouble is a plastic bird. Is it fair to Roc? Is it fair to Robin?"

"But, what about the people of Granite Falls?" Bogdon countered. "The motels are full and the stores are jammed. People are flocking to our little town – and they are bringing lots of money with them. Do you know I actually saw one of those TV news reporters pay $5 for a fifty cent cup of coffee?"

We discussed Gull-ible's pros and cons for quite a while that afternoon. Everyone made good points. And we finally came to a conclusion: we had squeezed just about all the juice out of this orange. It was time to get out of the Thunderbird business. But, we decided to let Gull-ible make one last farewell flight.

We were just finishing up our meeting when...

"Knock, knock. Anyone home?"

Someone was outside the clubhouse!

And when I say they were outside the clubhouse I don't mean that they were standing on the ground below the clubhouse. This voice was coming from outside the window and from within the tree branches.

We stuck our heads outside and there to our amazement sat Robin. She was sitting on one of the large oak limbs that was a primary support for our shelter. She was wearing the same dress that she had on the last time we saw her. In the broken sunlight that filtered through the oak leaves, she was somehow more radiant than before. She dangled her bare feet over the side. Twenty feet below we could see her leather sandals neatly stacked side by side.

She seemed completely at ease in the mighty oak. Rottweiler was perched on her left hand and she was feeding him sunflower seeds one by one with her right.

"Robin, what are you doing out there?" Toby inquired.

"Rottweiler and I were just having a little talk. And, I came by to see you guys, too. What's new and exciting? Have you spotted any Thunderbirds lately?"

Shad had the goofiest look on his face. And, almost in a trance he spilled the beans.

"Oh he's not real," said the mooning love puppy.

"What?"

We panicked. Luckily Toby thinks fast.

"Ah... Charlie has a new Thunderbird, but it's not real. A friend of ours gave it to him yesterday. Show her Charlie."

While Charlie removed the talisman from around his neck, the rest of us gave a huge sigh of relief. Except for Shad, who gave a yelp when Freddie frogged him in the arm for being stupid.

Charlie held out the silver bird. Robin swung her legs up on the branch and in one swift motion she popped up on her feet. With her legs still together, she cupped her feet around the large limb below. Then she hopped towards us without any sign of fear – and without ever looking down.

She took the item from Charlie and studied it intently.

"Wakinyan," she whispered to nobody in particular. Turning back to Charlie she asked, "can I borrow this? I promise you'll get it back."

"Sure", said Charlie. (Yeah, like he would ever say 'no' to Robin.)

Robin smiled at us.

"I just came by to say Thank You. You boys have played a big part in helping me locate the Thunderbird. I dare say that I could not have done it without you."

That made us all feel pretty guilty and I am sure we looked it. Finally Toby spoke.

"You know Robin; we really hope you have not made this trip for nothing. I mean, it would be a shame if you did not get see a real bird."

"What do you mean?" she asked raising one inquisitive eyebrow.

"Well things are not always what they seem," explained Toby.

Robin chuckled.

"No. They really aren't," she agreed smiling. "But don't worry guys. Things have a way of working out."

Toby had to clear his conscience. "You know we never meant to deceive anyone. We just wanted to have an adventure."

Robin 'hopped' over to Toby and bent down. She reached out and took his face in her hands.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Toby. When this adventure is over you will realize that God always has a greater plan. There is a reason the Thunderbird came to Granite Falls."

She stood back up and addressed us all. "You may also find out that not everyone is as... Well, let's just say they aren't as 'Gull-ible' as you think they are."

"Can you excuse us for a minute?" Charlie asked.

We all ducked inside for a quick conference.

Charlie was in a panic.

"She knows," he said.

"Of course she knows," Toby replied. "I have an idea that she's known from the very start."

"Well, how did she find out?" asked Charlie.

"I bet Rott told her," Freddie chimed in.

We all scowled at Freddie. But he countered,"hey, don't look at me. Rott's the one with the big mouth."

"What now?" I asked.

"Just be cool," Charlie answered. "We need to act like nothing's wrong."

The conference was over and we stuck our heads back out the window. But Robin was gone! The tree limb was vacant.

With a sense of dread we leaned out the window and looked down, expecting to see a crumpled body in a peach sundress.

Instead, there she was, standing on the ground slipping her sandals on. She looked up and waved.

"I've got to go guys. There is so much to do. I have an idea that I'll be leaving soon."

"Will we see you again?" Shad asked mournfully.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you will see me one last time."

"Be well," she added. And, Robin turned and walked away.

************

Chapter Nineteen – Gull-ible's Grand Finale

That night was windy and then it rained for several days. This was not the kind of weather we needed for Gull-ible's farewell flight.

I could not help but think about Roc huddled up in his Teepee. Do Teepee's keep out the rain? I guess they are bound to or the Native Americans would have come up with some other type of shelter.

Finally, on Friday the day broke clear and sunny. The sky was an incredible shade of autumn blue. Somehow we all knew that this was the day Gull-ible would make his final flight and we could get out of the Thunderbird business forever.

I suppose we should have found a new launch site for the finale. But, somehow we were drawn back up to Buckner's Knob. And, this time the entire club was together. We did not leave anyone behind this trip.

Once again we loaded up the golf cart and drove out to where the road stopped. Then we hiked up the mountain to the mine. Like clockwork, we assembled the big glider and went through our preflight checks.

As the sun trailed down to the horizon, we were ready to go.

Just like before, we came running out of the tunnel along the tracks. Just like before, Gull-ible sailed off the cliff and across the valley. But, that's when things started to go terribly wrong.

We agreed on one quick circle and then home, but suddenly Gull-ible hit a powerful updraft that sent the glider soaring higher and higher. Bogdon struggled to regain control and it looked like he was making progress. But, about that time a giant black cloud came blowing over the mountain behind us. The wind hit Gull-ible and he blew up higher than he had ever been. With all the turbulence, we were afraid the glider was going to tear itself apart.

At one point, Gull-ible disappeared into the big rain cloud that was moving in above us. Suddenly, CRASH. Thunder nearly deafened us, and it echoed across the valley.

The wind was whipping across what now seemed like a pretty small perch up there on the Knob. So far, we had not seen any lightning, but the weather was still deteriorating. We scanned the edges of the cloud trying to locate the glider. There was another CRASH of thunder and we finally spotted the big bird riding the currents at the very top.

"There he is," I shouted above the wind. "He's at twelve o'clock high!"

"No!" Thor countered. "He's at ten o'clock medium."

We did a double take. There were two giant black birds above us!

"Let's see which one is ours," Bogdon shouted.

He put Gull-ible into a steep dive. The bird above us – the one at medium altitude dove. That one was Gull-ible. We had no idea what was above him.

Our big bird sailed out from the cloud and into the clear skies west of the mountain. But, he was not flying alone for long.

The creature on top of the cloud suddenly collapsed its wings and dove like a Falcon. It looked for a minute like it was attacking Gull-ible, when suddenly its wings opened up in a flair. The newcomer quick rolled and pulled into position behind our aircraft.

"Bring it home Bog," Charlie yelled above the wind. "I don't like the looks of this."

Bogdon was in the process of circling to the right – when suddenly another giant bird darted out of the clouds. This second bird made a head on pass at Gull-ible and his trailer, while Bog struggled to keep the glider steady.

This newcomer closed the formation at an incredible speed, passed overhead and went into a zoom climb shooting strait up. It slowed at the top of the climb and looped over in a hammerhead stall.

We stared in amazement as the second Thunderbird slipped in from above and took up a position behind Gull-ible, on the opposite side from the first stranger.

Bogdon Peabody had had enough of this craziness. He firewalled the glider and quickly emptied the gas jets, but by that time our creation was rocketing toward the knob. Gull-ible streaked forward and despite Bogdon's best efforts the glider smashed hard into the ground in front of us.

The two trailing thunderbirds zoomed in right behind the glider, whipped close overhead and shot up the mountain. Slicing through the wind, they passed directly in front of our position, nearly colliding with the exposed cliff face. But, within seconds they hurtled over the top of Buckner's Knob.

Once above the mountain, the two creatures separated and began gliding in large loops. For several minutes they circled each other in an intricate dance across the heavens.

Toby's voice raised above the wind, "They're courting!" he shouted.

Slowly the circles they sailed got smaller and smaller. Suddenly, the giant birds finished with an incredibly graceful turn and were flying side by side.

The black clouds back dropped the scene as the last pointed rays of the setting sun bathed the Thunderbirds in golden light. They made one final circle above the valley and hesitated in a stall right above Buckner's Knob. Then, without even flapping their wings, an air current filled their feathers.

The creatures twirled around and headed south. At an elevation where they were barely visible, the thunderbirds floated straight across the valley and directly over Granite Falls. Reflecting the last of the high altitude sunlight, they shimmered like giant golden eagles.

**************

Back on the knob, we just stood in silent awe. I think we all realized who our visitors really were and what was taking place.

Watching our two friends sailing off to start their new life together made us happy. But, we were also sad, seeing them float away into the night sky. A part of me hoped they would circle around once more and come back. But, they never did. They just sailed off into the night.

We stood there like statues, until they disappeared. And, then for some reason, we just kept standing, watching an empty sky. We did not want it to be over.

Finally, Charlie broke the spell. "They're gone," he said. "And, we better pack up and get out, too. Before someone catches us up here."

We knew Charlie was right, so we began half-heartedly gathering up our stuff. Gull-ible was in pieces all around us. We started picking up the splintered sections and made a pile.

Suddenly, Thor broke the melancholy silence. "Hey Guys! Look at this!"

We gathered around as our friend dragged over what was left of the forward fuselage. Something was hanging from the soda bottle head. Our mouths dropped wide open when we realized it was Roc's leather tie with the Thunderbird talisman dangling below.

After that shocker, we did not speak at all as we hiked down the mountain. When we reached the bottom, we silently loaded up our golf cart and headed back to town. When we got to the bat cave, our super secret unit at Martin Stoney's U-Store-it, we piled what was left of Gull-ible in the back corner. Charlie worked the combination on our big steel floor safe and put the Thunderbird necklace carefully inside.

And finally, we all went home to bed. But I don't think anybody slept much that night.

************

Chapter Twenty – Aftermath (Before Science)

The next day was Saturday. And, it was probably nine-thirty in the morning when we finally met up at the primary club house. There we discovered one final surprise all rolled up and leaning against the great white oak. A note pinned to the side said 'For the Rangers'.

And, that is how Company A acquired our genuine hand sewn buffalo hide Teepee.

As the days passed, the crowds in town got smaller and smaller. I think everyone realized the Thunderbirds were gone. Within a week the multitude was gone, as well.

So, we gradually returned to normal and got back to the business of being regular seventh grade boys.

Except... for months afterward, every time we heard a sound that might be thunder – we stopped whatever we were doing and stared up toward Buckner's Knob. Unfortunately, we never spotted anything but the mountain rising in the distance.

After all, the thunderbirds had flown south for the winter. We knew in our hearts they were someplace warm, cheerfully starting their lives together. And, although we missed them terribly, we wished them all the happiness in the world.

However we found comfort in one thought. Maybe they are not gone forever. Maybe one day they will return to our little town and we will meet again at Memorial Point. Then, we can pow wow around the campfire, eat way too many hot dogs and hear more stories about Wakinyan's adventures among the human beings.

Yes, maybe someday our friends will return to Granite Falls.

Who knows? Maybe even... next spring.

************

Chapter Twenty-One – Science Fair Ahead!

With the Thunderbirds gone, we just naturally turned our attention toward the fall holidays.

Halloween has always been a particularly favorite day of mine. I mean how can you go wrong with a celebration where you knock on doors and people practically throw chocolate at you? Plus, with friends like Bogdon Peabody and Toby Trundle, you can engineer all kinds of virtual carnage and butchery.

Last year they fixed me up with a blood dripping Zombie hand that fit over my real one. And, when I pulled a decaying forefinger and used it to pick my nose, my little sister totally freaked!

Who doesn't love Halloween?

However, just after Halloween the club swings in to really high gear as the Rangers prepare for the biggest event of autumn. Of course I am referring to the third Thursday in November and the annual Caldwell County Science Fair Competition.

There are several fierce educational rivalries in our great country. Stanford/MIT, Harvard/Yale and USC/UCLA all come to mind. But, that is just good natured ribbing compared to the all out war between the Granite Falls Blue Devils and their hated arch rivals, the Lenoir Wildcats. And, of course the Caldwell County Science Fair winner always returns home with that icon of triumph and conquest: the coveted 'Old Oaken Slide Rule'.

The permanent spot for 'the Rule' is in the Science Trophy Case in the main foyer at Granite Falls Middle. However, that spot had remained empty for ten excruciating years as the result of an unfortunate Wildcat lucky streak. That dry spell led the Granite Falls Gazette to publish editorials bemoaning our losses and wondering if great science fair competitors were a thing of the past in our little town. Had the new millennium ushered in an era where Granite Falls would sink to the level of second class scientific power?

Finally last year after enduring almost universal criticism since Y2K, the Science Teachers of Granite Falls Middle unleashed their ultimate weapon at the Caldwell County competition. With a 'no prisoners' go for broke attitude, the desperate educators dropped the Bogdon Peabody bomb. The sixth grader's homemade Wilson Chamber (also known as a Cloud Chamber) used super-cooled, supersaturated water vapor in a sealed atmosphere to detect particles of ionizing radiation.

Bogdon's entry devastated the opposition and like a coordinated scientific Blitzkrieg, Toby Trundle and Charlie Sinclair placed second and third overall. Company A, representing Granite Falls Middle, swept the competition and reestablished the Blue Devils as the Catawba Valley's premier science power.

The Granite Falls Gazette reused the exact same print type they first used on VJ day 1945 and began their next issue with the entire above the fold headline 'WE WIN!'

However, insiders realized there was a certain hollowness to Bogdon's victory. Lenoir Middle School's premier science scholar, Stuart Sonoma, missed last year's competition as a result of a lingering case of mononucleosis (the dreaded kissing disease).

Bogdon and Stuart had been contending at the county level since second grade when Bog's homemade EKG machine took second to Stuart's kitchen based DNA extractor. Every year since, like a ping pong ball, first place bounced back and forth between the two competitors. Having now won the Stuart-less sixth grade competition, Bogdon was under tremendous pressure to turn back Stuart's seventh grade challenge and bring 'the Rule' home for the second year in a row.

Since the day after last year's stunning victory, Bogdon has been working and planning for this year's competition. He has become almost obsessed with engineering the perfect 7th grade science project. Of course, he has to live within the confines of not having access to either weapons grade plutonium or NASA's Supercomputers. So, this year Bogdon had chosen to work with superconductors in a bath of ultra cold liquid nitrogen.

Of course Bogdon does not get to have all the fun himself. Every Ranger in the club has picked out a science fair project strong enough to make a run at third place. Toby is setting up an apparatus to measure the electric charge of a single atom. Thor is building a magnetic heat engine that demonstrates the Curie effect. Charlie has a pendulum that detects the rotation of the Earth. And, Shad and Freddie have built a Trebuchet (a type of catapult) out of PVC pipe that launches golf balls.

I decided to take the electric generator I built for last year's contest and add wind turbine blades. That way I have a wind generator that takes advantage of all the good press that green energy solutions are getting these days. And, all the upgrade took was about an hour and a bunch of tongue depressors. And better still, I am competing in the technology category.

For you science fair novices, we compete in four categories: Biological Science, Earth/Environmental Science, Physical Science, and Technology. Biological Science always has the most entries. Never enter the Biological Science category unless your biology teacher forces you to!

Technology always has the fewest entries. I've seen competitions where there were 100 Biological Science entries and 4 Technology entries. That's why I compete in the Technology category. And, if you can beat a hovercraft made out of plastic sheeting and an old window fan, you are pretty much in the driver's seat in this group.

So the Rangers were set. We had all three returning Science Fair Champions with some highly competitive projects. In addition, Thor, Freddie, Shad and I were ready to jump in with their own experiments if an opening presented itself.

But, the question on everybody's mind was 'what will Stuart Sonoma do?'

As October progressed, bits of information began filtering through the school district that gave us some clues on Stuart's focus. Band members attending a competition at Lenoir Middle School reported seeing 'smoking milk cans' which were undoubtedly Dewar's containers of ultra cold liquid gases. Bogdon was using Dewar's containers of liquid Nitrogen for his own superconductor experiments.

Then, in early November, we got our clearest indication. One of our contacts at the Granite Falls Public Library discovered an interlibrary loan request from Lenoir Middle School. The State University was sending over manuscripts on Quantum Physics and Theoretical Computation.

Bogdon analyzed the situation for us in our regular club meeting for the first week in November.

"It does not take much to put two and two together. Super cold temperatures + Quantum Physics \+ Theoretical Computation equals the Answer. In this case the answer is as plain as the nose on your face. Stuart Sonoma is building a Quantum Computer!"

Bogdon gave us a little background on exactly what that meant.

"A Quantum Computer stores data using individual atoms. Some atomic level characteristic is chosen to represent the figures 0 or 1 - called a Quantum bit (or Qubit). A Quantum Computer would be very small and store almost unimaginable amounts of data. Realistically speaking, Stuart's computer will not be a functional calculator. It will probably consist of a single atom storing a single Qubit of data. Still, at the seventh grade level, this is an impressive achievement."

In response to this disturbing analysis, Bogdon made a fateful decision. His original plan was to create a Yttrium – Barium – Copper alloy disc that he could dunk in liquid nitrogen. When placed over a magnet, the super-conductive disc would levitate – demonstrating the Meissner Effect where an object's magnetic field decays to nothing as it achieves superconductivity.

Bogdon was now having second thoughts about his project. So, at the last minute he decided to go in completely different direction. Only time would tell if his decision was the correct one.

************

Chapter Twenty-Two – Science Fair Outlaws

Finally, the big day arrived. It was the third Thursday in November, and we loaded up our experiments into Charlie's Mom's Suburban and the entire club traveled up to Hudson Middle School which lies halfway between Granite Falls and Lenoir.

This year's contest would be held at Hudson, which was a newer middle school here in the county. I'm sure that as schools go Hudson is okay and everything. Someday Hudson is likely to be a major competitor. But, it's a new school, and we don't have the history between us that we have with Lenoir. Hudson is kind of like Switzerland. The other schools don't really hate it yet. It's still kind of neutral.

No one spoke during the trip over. We were too nervous. We were too serious. We knew that the hopes and prayers of Granite Falls rested upon our shoulders. For us every science fair is a military campaign - to be won at all costs or risk the reputation of the entire town.

When Charlie's Mom pulled up out front, we hopped out of the big SUV like a well oiled machine. It was game time, and we put on our game faces. We unloaded our equipment and headed for the cafeteria and whatever fate had in store.

We burst through cafeteria doors like the returning champions that we were. I kind of felt like the James gang riding into town. We were science fair outlaws, ready to take 'The Rule' home by whatever means necessary, even if it meant running Stuart Sonoma out of town on a rail!

Wandering up to the registration table, we began the check in process. Each of us was issued an identification number and given instructions on which section of the cafeteria to set up in.

We picked up our experiments and display boards and were just leaving the registration area when we were hailed by a voice from behind. It took me by surprise and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Hello... Bogdon."

The words rang from Stuart's mouth like the clang of church bell. As they faded away, the room was overly quiet.

Trying his best to appear calm and unaffected, Bog turned around and met Stuart eye to eye. After pausing to look her up and down, Bog replied simply.

"Hi, Stuart."

Stuart Sonoma was behind us in line waiting to check in for the competition. I had not seen her in two years. But, not much had changed. She was the same Stuart Sonoma that we all knew and feared.

Standing just over five feet tall, she had a very light complexion and dark eyes that were reinforced with large black eyelashes. She sported a pair of 'scientist glasses' with heavy black rims that looked even bigger and darker than Bogdon's. Stuart's hair was long and dark black, and for the competition she had it in braids that stuck out from either side of her head. From out of the bottom of her white lab coat jutted leggings covered with large horizontal black and white stripes. She completed her look with a pair of black Chuck Taylor high tops.

As far as I could tell she was not armed.

Bogdon and Stuart stood eyeing each other for a few seconds and then Stuart spoke again.

"I see you've brought your band of merry men again this year," Stuart observed with dripping sarcasm.

Without missing a beat Bogdon replied, "I am so glad to see you've recovered from your sexually transmitted disease."

I almost swallowed my tongue at Bogdon's comment but Stuart simply raised one eyebrow. Tension hung above them like a cloud.

"Enough small talk, funny boy. I hope you brought 'The Rule'. Because, I'm taking it home today."

"Stuart, don't you suppose we ought to let the judges make that call?"

"Oh, they will make the call. And you can rest assured that they will be calling my number when the Catawba County Science Fair is all said and done."

Then, Stuart Sonoma dropped a bomb that demonstrated we weren't the only ones with an intelligence network.

"After all Bogdon, if you've seen one levitating superconductor disk, you've seen them all. I'm sure by now that even Mr. Meissner would agree that effect is becoming old hat."

"Gee," Bogdon replied. "If only I had a Quantum Computer to assist me in designing a science fair project which is up to your high standards."

That wiped the smile off Stuart's face. This time she really got nasty.

"Bogdon, to build a Quantum Computer you have to understand Brownian motion. And, you believe Brownian motion is when a troop of Girl Scouts go jogging!"

Bog struck back, "I'd explain my project to you Stuart, but you think a Tachyon is a sub-atomic particle which is devoid of good taste!"

"Yeah?" Stuart replied. "Well, you think that black holes are something you get in your black socks!"

"You think hyperspace is where your Mom parks the car at the superstore!" said Bogdon defiantly.

About that time the little old lady who was volunteering at the registration booth interrupted.

"Children, please! You can finish your conversation later. Right now, you are holding up the line."

Bogdon and Stuart gave each other one final 'look' and then we moved on to the display area.

***********

Tension still gripped us as we begin setting up our displays and experiments. Unfortunately, it encouraged Shad and Freddie to try and settle us down with some of their so-called humor.

"Hey Freddie," said Shad as he lifted their catapult up onto the table. "What do you call a green subatomic particle with a half life of 130 million years?"

Freddie was unfolding the three sections of their display board.

"Uh, if I'm not mistaken that would be a 'Jurassic Quark'."

Unfortunately, they did not stop there.

"Hey Shad, if you roll a orange across the table, what physical force brings it to a halt?"

"Pulp Friction," Shad replied, looking very pleased with himself.

"I don't understand," Freddie continued. "If sound does not travel in a vacuum why is my Mom's vacuum so noisy?"

"I don't know" said Shad. "But how do you tell the sex of a chromosome?" asked Shad.

"That's easy" said Freddie. "Pull down its genes!"

I could not stand it any longer. At that point I played a trick of my own on the comedy duo.

"Company A of the Granite Falls Rangers, I would like to make a motion - that Shad and Freddie cease and desist with these jokes, and they don't quit their day jobs either."

Like Pavlov's dog conditioned to respond every time a bell rang, Shad and Freddie responded without thinking.

"Second!"

"Second!"

When they realized that they had just seconded the motion to shut themselves up – the two fellows looked pretty sheepish.

That brought on wave of laughter that actually did end up breaking the tension. And, we all got back to setting up displays.

************

Chapter Twenty-Three – Getting the Lay of the Land

We quickly finished assembling our projects and decided to take a pass through the room and check out the competition. But, not all the Rangers completed the circuit.

Charlie and Thor stayed behind when they found themselves engrossed in a project designed by two Hudson cheerleaders: Peanut Gibson and Twinkle Clark. The cheerleaders, presenting in uniform, were investigating "The Effect of Reparative Treatments on the Strength of Hair Exposed to Chlorine".

The two bleach blondes had our fellows spellbound as they recounted their scientific research, and its implications for color treated hair the world over.

Next, Freddie and Shad took off looking for the snack bar.

So, Toby, Bogdon and I were left to ourselves. We were headed over to see the comedy science show put on by the State Museum of Natural Science, when suddenly a commotion broke out.

A Biological Science exhibitor was setting up her experiment exploring the effect of temperature on the chirping cycle of crickets. Unfortunately, the plastic lid popped off the small terrarium she was using to display her test subjects. The little insects were scurrying everywhere.

I considered breaking into a chorus of 'When you wish upon a star' like Jiminy Cricket sang in Pinocchio. But, I decided that would be adding insult to injury. Instead, I got down on my knees with some other competitors and we chased crickets for the next several minutes.

It was really pretty fun sliding under tables and grabbing at crickets that would hop away just as you thought you had them cornered. And, it also kind of tickled when they bounced around in your cupped hands as you carried them back to their little glass enclosure. Of course there were those females in the crowd, (and a few males) who would let out a screech when they looked down to see a cricket crawling up their leg.

We were all having a great time until Toby popped out from between two tables and ran smack into Yogi Stinkmeyer!

Yogi Stinkmeyer was walking down the aisle gingerly carrying a cardboard box about chin high. The box contained his science fair project: a potato powered digital clock. (You may or may not know that you can power a digital clock using two baking potatoes, two galvanized nails and some copper wire.)

Anyway, when Toby ran into Yogi it was kind of like a mouse running into an elephant. He literally bounced off the massive teenager. Yogi probably weighs 250 lbs. before breakfast.

Toby realized instantly that he had just offended the biggest, meanest bully in all four Caldwell County Middle Schools, and that he was flirting with a painful death. Thinking fast and falling back on his Tai Kwan Do training, Toby utilized the energy from the collision to flop himself back to the floor. He then rolled under the table before Yogi got a good view of who had just run into him. Luckily, for Toby, there were still plenty of helpful students crawling around looking for crickets to blend in with.

Yogi Roared!

"Which one of you little meat heads ran into me? When I get my hands on you, I'm going to twist your neck until I can use it for a shoelace! This is a delicate scientific instrument here!"

Yogi lowered his potato clock and looked around. However, there was no sign of his attacker. So, he let out a great big "Humph" and kept on walking.

Because there is safety in numbers and partly to disappear in the crowd, Toby, Bogdon and I went onto the Science show put on by the state museum of Natural History. I was even a volunteer from the audience touching the giant Van de Graff generator that threw 8 inch sparks and made my hair stand straight up. The whole thing was a lot of fun and educational to boot.

After the show, we returned to the exhibition hall / cafeteria and an unexpected sight. The exhibit spaces besides Bog's project were empty when we walked off. Now they were occupied. Stuart Sonoma was on his left. Yogi Stinkmeyer was on his right.

Bogdon returned to his post with some apprehension. But, realizing the Honor of Granite Falls was in his hands, he attempted to make the best of a bad situation.

************

Chapter Twenty-Four – Unexpected Hero

"Birds?" Stuart Sonoma asked in shocked disbelief. "Your science fair project is on birds?"

Bogdon replied.

"Yes, Stuart. Scientists have long theorized that migratory birds use some sort of internal compass for navigation on their long flights. So, I have built a superconducting quantum interference device – I call it a SQUID. It consists of two superconductors separated by thin insulating layers to form parallel Josephson Junctions. With this device I can detect the magnetic fields of living organisms. I am using my device to measure the magnetic fields of homing pigeons. Then I measure the fields of regular pigeons. My hypothesis is that homing pigeons must have a more powerful internal magnet in order to navigate more precisely. I decided that a practical application of advanced physics might be a novel enough change to catch the judge's eye. "

"I can't believe it," Stuart indicted Bogdon dismissively. "I never expected YOU of all people to sink to the level of an experiment with a practical application!"

Following the exchange, Bogdon, Stuart and Yogi all sat quietly beside their exhibits for several minutes. However, it finally registered with Yogi that his Potato Clock was no longer displaying the time. The collision with Toby had indeed broken his 'delicate scientific instrument'.

"Oh, Great!" Yogi exclaimed. "This stupid clock is out of order. I guess my potato batteries have run down. I knew I should have gotten the russets!"

He went on to no one in particular, "Now, Mrs. Speagle won't give me my extra credit. I won't pass Science. And, I'll spend another year in middle school. "

"Why do bad things happen to good people?" he moaned loudly.

Suddenly, the giant Yogi had an idea. He looked over at Bogdon and spoke.

"Hey you. Smart kid. Is there a way to recharge my potatoes before the judging? There's gotta be some batteries in one of these science fair projects. I'm sure I can persuade the owners to lend 'em to me for the competition."

Yogi posed a question.

"What do you think? Can we rig up some little potato jumper cables and get my clock running again?"

Bog considered carefully before speaking. He realized that saying the wrong thing to the immense bully could result in his being smashed like a Dixie cup.

"Well, while I am not sure of the practicality of 'potato jumper cables', I do believe that the project can be salvaged by reconstituting current flow into the contact points of the clock. Your problem is most likely a loose connection or a certain amount of corrosion on the exterior surface of your nails. "

"I tell you what," said Yogi. "If you can get my clock running – I'll make someone buy you a soda."

Bogdon responded, "That's certainly a generous offer. However, it is entirely unnecessary."

Bog stepped over beside the Yogi and examined the potato clock. Out of his pocket he pulled a stainless steel multi-tool and extended the file component. He quickly removed the nail from one potato and scuffed the surface with his file. After stabbing the first nail back into the potato – he repeated the procedure with the nail from the second potato.

Bogdon flipped the multi-tool back around to its pliers' configuration and used them to reconnect and tighten all the copper wire connections. Then, he reattached the alligator clips to the clock contact points. In about 45 seconds total, Bog had the clock blinking '9:99' again.

"You're back online," Bogdon said. "All you need to do is reset the time, and you are good to go."

"Reset the time?" Yogi complained. "Gosh. Why do I always get the hard jobs?"

But, Yogi applied himself to the task. Within about ten minutes he had the clock displaying the approximate time, although he had not quite figured out the AM/PM indicator.

************

As time wore on Yogi became board just waiting for the judges, so he tried to start up a conversation.

"You smart kids... You've got it easy. You go to class and do your homework and just glide through life. You have no idea the pressures that are on a 'challenged' student like myself."

Bogdon had sense enough not to respond. Unfortunately, Stuart Sonoma felt compelled to throw in her two cents.

"Oh yeah. It's a hard knock life," she agreed. "First you have to beat up all those sixth graders for their lunch money. Then you have to give out a swirlie, stuff some poor kid into his locker and still find time to force someone to take your accelerated reader test. How do you handle the burdens?"

Then she stepped way over the line.

"It's no wonder you're the oldest living middle schooler in Caldwell County history."

Yogi was taken aback by Stuart's comments. He was not used to being confronted about his extracurricular activities.

"Hey, Pippi Longstockings. Why don't you shut your mouth – before I decide to shut it for you?"

But Stuart did not let up, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size? Like Jabba the Hut!"

Yogi was agitated now.

"I can't believe this. You try to be a nice guy. You try to take the high road. Then you run into some loud mouthed cheap shot artist. And, they always make fun of the weight. They look right past the fact that I'm big boned. They ignore that possibility I might have an under active thyroid. Maybe I even have a family history. They just go straight for the fat boy jokes. And, they are soo funny. Har de har har."

Yogi reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Searching the inside section, he pulled out a small red and white card and held it out to show Stuart.

"There it is Smarty pants. There's my Weight Watchers membership card. It just so happens that as of my last weigh in, I have already lost two and a quarter pounds. Furthermore, for your information, Ms. Critical, I am walking the football field every day after lunch. Hey, I know I have a weight problem. But, at least I'm doing something about it. Not like you! "

"What do you mean 'like you'? I don't have a weight problem," Stuart responded.

"No. You don't have a weight problem. You've got a smart girl problem."

Yogi elaborated.

"Oh sure. You can get blue ribbons and stuff at the science fair. You get A's on your report cards. Heck, you probably even read above a 4th grade level. But the reality is you are... PLAIN!"

The word hung in the air and Stuart's mouth fell open.

But, Yogi was not finished yet! He was wound up and he just kept on firing away.

"That's right. You're plain and everyone here knows it! You do all this math and science stuff to compensate for plainness. You are plain, and you are always going to plain. Plain Jane! So congratulations. You're going to be the smartest girl at the stag table at the senior prom. Maybe your Mom will buy you a corsage to go with your lab coat!"

Bogdon stood stunned. It was perhaps the most painful episode he had ever witnessed. He was almost too embarrassed for Stuart to look over at her. However, he finally did.

Stuart was standing there. Her mouth was closed, and she was not moving. Except there was a struggle underlying her passivity. Her lip began to tremble and slowly a tear welled up in her eye. She closed both eyes in an attempt to shut out the world, but one by one the tears dripped from her face and down on to her lab coat. And, now the trembling spread to her entire body.

That's when Bogdon Peabody did what was simultaneously the most heroic and most idiotic thing he had ever done in his entire life. He reached over with an open hand and slapped Yogi Stinkmeyer right across the face.

Yogi was stunned.

Bogdon was stunned.

And, when Stuart Sonoma opened her eyes and realized what had just taken place – the last trace of her self control dissolved. She erupted in tears and ran sobbing for the girl's room.

Yogi turned to Bogdon. "You're a dead man, squirt. I guess you're not as smart as you look."

Yogi began advancing on Bog, when a teacher from Hudson came over to see what the disturbance was about.

"What's going on here?" she demanded. "Why was that girl crying?"

Surprisingly Yogi replied quickly and with a convincing cover story.

"Uh. I believe she's having problems with her experiment," he replied. "It's probably just nerves."

"Well it looked like more than just nerves to me," the teacher said. "I am warning you boys. I'm going to keep my eyes on you. I better not see any more trouble over here, or I am going to start removing people from the competition."

And she walked off.

As soon as the coast was clear, Yogi turned to Bogdon. With a big smile on his face and the appearance of friendship, he spoke through his clenched teeth.

"Meet me in band room at 5:00. We are going to settle this then. And don't even think about not showing. It's going to be much worse if I have to come looking for you."

Still smiling brightly, Yogi walked off down the aisle.

************

Chapter Twenty-Five – Bogdon's Last Stand

It took about 35 seconds for the story to shoot through every kid in the school. Bogdon Peabody was fighting Yogi Stinkmeyer at 5 o'clock.

Within minutes, kids were lining up to shake Bogdon's hand, congratulate him and offer their condolences. There was certainly not a person in the building who actually believed that Bogdon had a chance against the immense bully. They all accepted that Bogdon was doomed.

It was time for an emergency Ranger meeting. We stepped outside the building and sat down on the empty bike rack out front. Dispensing with old business and the reading of the minutes – we immediately delved into the crisis.

"Does anyone have any bright ideas about how to keep Bogdon from being hammered to a pulp?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"What about if Toby shows Bog some Tai Kwan Do moves?" Freddie suggested. "Maybe with a little luck – Bog can tame the beast."

"I'm afraid there's not that much luck in all of Caldwell County," said Toby. "I've been taking Tai Kwan Do for three years and I wouldn't stand a chance against that big ape."

"I know," suggested Shad. "In the movies someone always kicks the big guy in the family jewels. Then he tumbles to the ground and they all laugh."

Charlie was skeptical. "Has anyone ever seen that work in real life?"

No one spoke up.

Finally, Thor said, "in last year's county High School soccer tournament, there was this giant guy from West Caldwell. This little guy for Hibriten tried to kick him there when the refs weren't looking. "

"What was the result?" Asked Bogdon hopefully.

"The last I heard the little guy from Hibriten was still in a body cast. But, the doctors were hopeful that he would someday eat solid food again."

Obviously that was not a option.

"What if all seven of us stick together and take on Yogi?" I asked.

Charlie responded. "That might save Bogdon, today. But, what happens when Yogi hooks up with Augie Toombs and Irish Gillhooley? When they come looking for all of us, we'll end up with a riot."

That was no solution either.

"What about padding?" asked Shad? "I mean, guys that ride bulls in the rodeo get flack vests. Some even use helmets. I don't see why Bogdon shouldn't get the same protection. After all, Yogi is as big as a bull. "

"That's actually not a bad idea," said Charlie. "A flack vest and some bullet proof underwear might go a long way toward speeding up Bog's recovery."

We all sat quiet for minute. There must be something we could do for our friend.

Finally, Toby spoke once more. "You know guys. Maybe we can use science against Yogi. "

"What do you have in mind?" asked Charlie.

"Well," said Toby. "I saw a couple of interesting tricks at the science show. Maybe we can use a few to convince Yogi that fighting Bogdon is not in his best interest. We've got plenty of materials here. Maybe we can put on a show of our own – and call it the Bogdon Peabody's Mad Scientist's Show!"

Toby pulled out some paper and a pencil and began outlining a few of his ideas. Bogdon chipped in a couple. And, Freddie, who has got to be sneakiest of all the Rangers made some suggestions of his own. It was not long before we had a plan roughed out.

It was a long shot. But, it might save our friend from having to drink his dinner through a straw for the foreseeable future.

We quickly divided up the tasks and headed back inside. After gathering everything we needed, we would reconvene in the band room to prepare.

************

Chapter Twenty-Six – Showdown in the Band Room

Yogi arrived at the door to the band room at exactly 5 o'clock to find Thor and Shad standing guard out front.

"Don't tell me that little Bogdon Nobody is getting his friends to fight his fights for him? Are you two here to scare me off?" asked Yogi.

"Oh no," said Thor. "Bogdon's anxious to fight. He told us that it's time for someone to teach you a lesson about insulting girls."

"Yeah," Shad agreed. "He's inside getting ready. Thor and I are just out here to keep out the riff raff. "

"That's right," said Thor. "Without witnesses – no one can press any charges later if they change their mind."

A chuckle escaped from Yogi's throat. "Oh ho. That's just the way I like it," agreed Yogi. "No witnesses."

Shad and Thor stepped aside. Thor even opened the door for the unsuspecting bully and Yogi walked on through.

Yogi entered into the room and the door behind him shut with a solid clunk. He punched his fist into his palm as a warm up and as a warning.

"Okay Peabody. Where are you? It's time to face the music."

Yogi chuckled when he realized he made a joke.

"Face the music – in the band room. Ha! I crack myself up," he chuckled.

The room was a half circle oriented toward the conductor at the bottom. There were several rows for the band members. Each row was up a step – so there was a small stadium effect. In the back, behind the top step, there was a long black counter in front of the windows. At the right of that top row was the band closet.

The door to the band closet opened with a creak and Toby stepped out holding a tray with several beakers of colored liquid. Unknown to Yogi, the liquid was just water with a few drops of food coloring mixed in. A small piece of dry ice was added that made the different liquids bubble, smoke and hiss.

"Who are you?" asked Yogi. "Where's Peabody. It's time for him to face the music."

Yogi chuckled again. He realized it was the second time he used that joke. But, when you don't come up with that many funnies – you've got to get the most mileage you can out of them.

Toby replied, "He's right here. I'm just helping him get ready for the fight."

Toby put the tray on the counter and walked down the steps to the big bully.

"You know Bogdon is one of the smartest kids in the whole county. And, he's developed some vitamin solutions to help loosen him up a little before you get started."

"Yeah?" said Yogi. "I hope you dropped some aspirin in with those vitamins. Then maybe it won't hurt so bad when I knock his block off!"

At that moment, Bogdon stepped out of the band closet. He was wearing a lab coat and with the use of some heavy duty moose borrowed from the Hudson cheerleaders' experiment - his hair was wildly spiked.

Bog walked intently over to the tray that Toby had sat on the counter in the back of the room. At this point he seemed content to ignore Yogi completely.

"I'll start with the red one," Bogdon said, picking up the beaker with the smoking red water in it. He brought the beaker to his lips and downed the liquid.

"That's the magnet potion," Toby explained to the bully. "It should give Bogdon the power over magnetic fields."

He asked Yogi, "Have you ever seen Magneto in those X-Men movies?"

On the counter beside the potions was a plate piled up with small iron filings.

"Let's try it out. Shall we?" asked Bog. And, he ran his right hand over the plate.

Bogdon held his hand sideways so Yogi could not see the Rare Earth magnet taped to the back. The magnet, from the generator in my science fair project, was strong enough that its field traveled right through Bogdon's hand.

Little iron filing jumped off the plate and attached themselves to his flesh as it passed over the top.

"That's one," said Bogdon.

Toby turned to the Yogi, "You don't wear braces, and do you Yogi?"

"No," said Yogi, looking a little unsure of himself.

"Good," acknowledged Toby. "I would not want him hit you with a magnetic field that ripped all your teeth out. Then again, the last guy he zapped still lost several fillings. "

"But, I'm sure you will be just fine," Toby added cheerfully.

Bog reached back to the tray and picked up the Green potion.

"Bottoms up," he said. And, he drained it in a gulp.

"That one gives him the power of electricity," explained Toby. "Kind of like an electric eel – only more so."

Bog took a step back and touched the borrowed Van de Graf generator that was hidden behind the door of the band closet. Then he reached out his finger toward the metal window frame. A seven inch spark jumped across with a crackling sound and looking like a mini-lightning bolt.

"That's two," Bogdon said.

Bog reached down and this time he picked up the smoking yellow potion. As he gulped it, Toby explained.

"This is a new formula. It's never been tried out on a human being before. We are not really sure what it does. We gave it to one of our rodent test subjects. And, the next morning, all the other rats were gone. There were just a bunch of little grease spots."

Bogdon's eyes got bigger. "I believe I know what it does," he announced.

Bog reached back into the band closet where I was standing out of sight. I handed him a plate with an empty aluminum can on top that I had just removed from a vat of liquid nitrogen. Bogdon put the plate down on the counter. He made a funny face and looked at the can pretending he was concentrating very hard.

Meanwhile, the super cold temperature had forced the air out the can resulting in a powerful vacuum. The can was sitting with its opening down and could not pull in any more air in. Suddenly the pressure of the outside air overcame the aluminum. With a pop, the can suddenly collapsed all by itself into a tiny lump.

"I did it!" Bogdon exclaimed. "I crushed that can using my new telekinetic powers."

He gave out a crazy laugh.

"That's what happened to those other rats. The rat that drank the potion squashed them into grease spots using just his transformed rat brain!"

By now, Yogi was clearly having second thoughts. But, I'll give him this. He stood his ground. But, his nervousness was apparent as his voice rattled.

"Yeah, okay. But, I ain't no rat. I'm still gonna knock your block off."

"I can't wait," said Bogdon. "But first, I have to drink the purple potion."

He reached down onto the tray and picked up the final beaker and brought it to his lips.

"No Bogdon!" pleaded Toby. "Not the purple potion. It's far too dangerous!"

But acting crazier than ever, Bogdon ignored the warning and chugged down the contents of the beaker.

"What's the deal with the purple potion?" asked Yogi nervously.

"Well," explained Toby. "It makes him impervious to pain. Nothing can hurt him. But, it also makes him a little crazy, and he knows it. He must really be looking forward to this fight if he drank the purple potion. "

"Let's put on a little demonstration, shall we?" said Bogdon smacking his lips. And, he walked back into the band closet and came back out with his hands full.

He placed a big Styrofoam bowl on the counter. Then he picked up a Dewar's container full of liquid nitrogen. He poured the smoking liquid into the bowl until he filled it to the top.

"Watch closely," he commanded.

Bogdon reached down and picked a pair of long rubber gloves – like people use on TV when they are washing dishes. Without letting Yogi see, he slipped a hotdog into the glove where his left forefinger would normally go.

He picked up carnation lying on the platter and dipped it into the liquid nitrogen. Then he removed it and closed one of his gloved hands around the flower, and it dissolved into dust.

"I don't feel the cold at all," said Bogdon. "But you know what? I want to see just how well that purple potion really works."

With a flourish, Bogdon held up one finger on his gloved left hand. The finger with the hotdog inside stood straight up. It was impossible to tell that it was not a real finger.

"One little Indian..." Bog said. Then he gave another insane laugh.

He looked over at us, and then he lowered the gloved hot dog 'finger' into the liquid nitrogen.

"Please don't Bog!" Toby gasped. But, Bogdon ignored him. He just whistled to himself as a few seconds passed.

"I guess that'll do it," said Bog. Then he placed the frozen digit onto the counter top. With his right hand he reached down and picked up a hammer that we had set on the floor earlier.

Bogdon screamed, " Aaawwwww!"

And in one quick motion he slammed the hammer down onto the 'finger ' and it shattered into what seemed like a million icy pieces.

Bogdon looked up. He was clearly crazy.

"I'm ready!" he said. And, he held up his hand displaying the abbreviated remains of his mangled 'finger'.

Well, that was enough for poor Yogi Stinkmeyer.

He had displayed quite a bit of courage to that point. He stayed through the magnet show. He stayed through the mini-lightning bolts. He even stayed through the can that Bogdon flattened using 'the power of his mind'.

But, when Bogdon shattered his finger and little bits of rubber glove and hot dog splattered around the room, Yogi had enough.

The big bully turned and ran!

When he hit the metal door with his massive body it flew open with a crash. (Luckily, Charlie had warned Thor and Shad to stand aside in case something like this happened.)

Yogi thundered down the hall. When he got to the end, he slammed through another door and ran out into the parking lot.

The last anyone saw of Yogi Stinkmeyer, he was heading full speed towards the setting sun – repeating, "Oh the humanity!"

And, that is the story of the day Bogdon Peabody and Yogi Stinkmeyer decided to rumble.

************

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Fair Finale

They say that all's well that ends well. And, you would assume that now the bully was out of the picture, we could get back to a normal science fair. Unfortunately, that was not the case

You see every year the teachers who work at the science fair set up a room in back where they lay out snacks and refreshments as a treat for themselves. This year, like every year before, Ms. Dawson brought plenty of her famous artichoke dip.

You might believe that being a 7th grade science teacher Ms. Dawson would think to check the expiration dates on the dairy products that she uses in her dip. However, this year she did not. And, she compounded the problem by leaving her artichoke and sour cream concoction in the back of her old Volvo station wagon all morning, where the sun shining through the car's large windows set up a nice greenhouse effect.

By the time Ms. Dawson put the artichoke dip out, it was teeming with enough rouge bacteria that it could have been a science fair project all by itself.

Within two hours every science teacher in the county had taken up a station in the teachers' bathrooms. Projectile vomiting was the order of the day.

However, the show must go on. Making the best of a bad situation, it fell to the only upright teacher in the building to grade the projects. Coach Bob Honeycutt was the sole judge and jury for this year's fair.

It should be noted that Coach Honeycutt had not sought this position. He had it thrust upon him.

He was not actually affiliated with the Science Fair. However, he heard there was free food, so he showed up. He himself consumed plenty of the tainted artichoke dip. But apparently his iron constitution was capable of standing up to anything short of a three day dead mule!

Unfortunately, Coach Honeycutt's science background was limited and several of the experiments were a little over his head. In addition, he was forced to judge all grades and all categories, so he did not have time to absorb all the material that was presented to him.

When he reviewed Stuart Sonoma's Quantum Computer, the talk of bits and Qubits was beyond him. So, getting right down to business, he asked Stuart to get the machine to add 2 + 2. Stuart tried to explain that her computer was only a prototype and she began a lengthy explanation of Shore's Algorithm. But the Coach cut her off.

"That's okay, Hon," he said. "Maybe you can fix your computer and then bring it back again next year."

In all fairness, Coach Honeycutt exhibited only a slightly better grasp of Bogdon's experiment.

In the end, Freddie and Shad's golf ball throwing catapult was the apple of the Coach's eye. He was sure that the machine had "commercial possibilities." Coach Honeycutt wanted to take the contraption out to football field and launch a few for fun. But, due to a lack of time, he just awarded the 1st place ribbon and moved on.

The 'Old Oaken Slide Rule' would be coming home with us after all.

Second place went to the Cheerleaders with the hair experiment. Why? I believe it was just because Coaches like Cheerleaders.

Finally, third place went to, as the Coach put it, "that kid who invented magnetic pigeons."

***********

Darkness was falling as Charlie's Mom pulled up out front in her Suburban. We began throwing all our stuff in the back just as Stuart Sonoma came walking out of the building. She moved tentatively down the steps towards Bog.

Bogdon walked over and the rest of us gave them a little privacy.

"I heard about the fight," said Stuart softly.

"It was nothing," Bogdon replied with a self conscious smile. "He never laid a glove on me."

There was an awkward pause until Stuart spoke again.

"Bogdon," she began. "I know we've had our differences. But, you are a gallant, sweet boy."

Then, Stuart Sonoma leaned in and kissed Bogdon on his cheek.

"Thank you for being my hero, today."

"My pleasure," Bog replied blushing.

Then, Stuart turned and started back up to the entrance.

"Hey, Stuart?" Bogdon called after her.

She stopped and turned around, "Yes, Bogdon?"

"Ah... When you get to that Stag table, the one at the Senior Prom...? "

"Yes?"

"Will you take the seat beside me?" Bogdon asked.

Stuart's thoughtful visage converted into a giant smile. And, in one brief second she transformed from scientist to girl.

"Absolutely," Stuart replied, beaming ever wider. Then, she turned and walked back into the building.

So, the Caldwell County Science Fair was over for another year. And, Stuart Sonoma and Bogdon Peabody both walked away winners.

They were two great competitors who would meet again, on another day.

************

Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Eagle Has Landed

It was Friday after Thanksgiving, a week after the Science Fair. We were sitting around the tree house shooting the bull about nothing in particular. As I recall Shad and Freddie were attempting to organize a burping contest. Suddenly, a large golden eagle flew in through the open window.

The enormous creature stretched clear across the room and there were feathers everywhere until the eagle settled atop the old army footlocker. Standing in the center of the room, the big bird closed his wings.

As luck would have it, Rottweiler was already standing on the footlocker. And, for once, Rottweiler was truly at a loss for words. I can still picture him looking straight up at the giant eagle towering above him.

The parrot stuttered. "Duh... Uhm... Uhm... Oh poop."

Rott fainted dead away. He just rolled over and passed out cold.

The rest of us sat stunned, not sure what to do. Toby had the presence of mind to say, "everyone, just stay still. No sudden moves."

At first the great bird ignored us and ignored Rottweiler as well. He was preoccupied. He was using his beak to untie a small satin ribbon that was curled around his right leg.

Finally, after several tugs, the sky blue ribbon came loose and dangled from the Eagle's beak. Then, (and I swear it's the truth) the Eagle looked slowly around the room. His gaze stopped on Charlie. He walked to the end of footlocker and dropped the ribbon into Charlie's lap.

Suddenly, the eagle pushed off with his powerful legs and launched back out the window.

For a second more we sat staring at each other. Then like an explosion, we jumped up and raced to the opening. But, the great bird was gone. Although, we did hear an Eagle's cry echoing through the neighborhood.

By the time we sat back down, Charlie was unfolding a small piece of paper attached to the ribbon.

"It's a message," Charlie said.

Without missing a beat, Shad asked, "Is it from Dumbledore?"

At that point I really thought that Charlie was going to reach over and smack Shad. But, he had more self control that I gave him credit for. Instead, Charlie took two fingers and brought them to his eyes. Then he pointed at Shad in the universal symbol of 'I'm watching you, Smart Aleck.'

But, I understood how Shad felt. Was an owl from Hogwarts going to come flying into the clubhouse next?

We turned our attention back to the message.

Bogdon asked, "What does it say?"

Charlie dropped the crumpled slip of paper on top of the footlocker and gave Bogdon his answer.

"It says: 'Come at once. George'"

*************

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Stolen Arrow!

The good news is that Eagle came to visit us on Friday and the next day we were all planning to attend a weekend Boy Scout trip. So, we left home the next morning in our Scout uniforms and told our folks we would be back on Sunday. And, we called the Scout Master and told him that an emergency had come up and were unable to go camping that weekend. Then, we headed over to our secondary club house, the bat cave.

The bat cave is a double sized storage unit nestled in the back of Stony Martin's U-Store-It, over behind the old Granite Falls Drive-In. It is our secret hideaway where we keep all our good stuff away from the prying eyes of Parents – and other non-club members. Inside, in addition to our work area, we have canoes, kayaks, scuba gear, model rockets, and tons of remote control gear for land, sea and air. We also have our electric golf cart, several motorized bikes, our climbing and camping gear and miscellaneous scientific and communications equipment.

The bat cave also holds our four hundred and fifty pound hardened steel floor safe. The 1939 model from the Circle City Safe Company of Indianapolis, Indiana is where we keep all the really valuable stuff we find. Right now, it's holding a dozen gold coins, some precious jewels, a 7 ½ lb gold nugget and a genuine US $1000 bill that I found hidden in the lining of an old camera case.

Not knowing what we would need when we got to Cherokee, we decided to travel light, and carry cash. In addition, we pulled our debit cards out of the safe. Before we left Toby got online and verified the club account had a $22,000 balance. An EBay auction was ending the next day for a 3 carat diamond ring I found last month. It would probably bring another couple of grand if we needed it.

By the time the big black limousine Charlie ordered pulled up out front, we were ready to go.

The trip up to Cherokee was uneventful. We brought a couple of DVD's to watch on the limo's monitor. And, when the driver heard he was delivering kids he stocked up on chips and soda. He was a nice guy who told funny stories and we tipped him well when he dropped us off at the Museum of the Cherokee.

We stacked up our belongings in front of the statue of Sequoyah and began debating the best way to get in touch with George Guest. But, within three minutes the old Indian came walking up.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I went by to check on The Arrow."

"Isn't it in the Museum?" Charlie asked puzzled.

"No," George replied bitterly. "They took it. They tricked us, and they took it!"

His outburst became a rant.

"They have no idea the power of The Arrow. To them it's just a trinket. They want to make money off of it. To them it's money, money, money. And they have no idea of the fire that they are playing with!"

"Remember this boys;" George said solemnly, "greedy people are stupid."

"I don't understand," said Charlie. "Where exactly is The Arrow?"

"They moved it," George replied. "It's in the Casino!"

Several years ago the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians let some big gambling company come in and build a Casino on the Qualla Boundary. People come from all around these parts to stay in the hotel and watch a Las Vegas style show and gamble. The Casino makes a lot of money. And, the Cherokee get their share. The Casino also provides a lot of jobs for maids and waitresses and bell hops and stuff. But, there are still plenty of Cherokees who see the gambling center as a bad influence. Apparently, George is one of them.

It turns out that several of the Cherokee leaders on the Board of the Museum are also on the Board of the Casino. When they saw The Arrow That Would Not Miss, they realized it could bring a lot of tourists to Qualla. They decided that if The Arrow were displayed at the Casino those tourists were likely to drop some money into the Video Slots and Poker Machines before they left. That would mean more money for the tribe.

So, the Directors forced Dr. Yellow Horse to move The Arrow That Would Not Miss to the Casino. And, George had already signed a paper agreeing that the Museum could display The Arrow. He just did not specify that it had to be displayed 'in the museum.'

"Don't they understand how important The Arrow is?" asked Toby.

"I am afraid not," George replied. "Those Indians have been brain washed by money. They are not just City Indians. They are Casino Indians."

The words 'Casino Indians' came out of George's mouth like he was spitting them.

"The only thing they believe in is luck."

We stood around for a few moments in despair trying to figure out what to do. But, we were stumped until we got a suggestion from our smallest club member.

"You know what I think the Otter would say about a situation like this?" asked Freddie.

George looked over at Freddie and his frown gave way to a smile. I think he was pleased that Freddie was looking to his animal guide for help.

"No," George asked. "What would the Otter say?"

Freddie smiled. "The Otter would say – If they believe in Luck, then we need to use that Luck against them!"

We all circled around him and Freddie gave us a quick outline of his idea to outsmart the Cherokee Casino. I just hoped his plan would be a winner.

Toby spoke after Freddie. "Off the top of my head, I'd say you're looking at a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethros and a Leon Spinks, not to mention the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever!"

"What?" ask a bewildered Freddie Dunkleberger. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"I have no idea," Toby grinned. "But Brad Pitt said that to George Clooney in 'Oceans Eleven', just before they robbed three casinos at the same time. Somehow it seemed appropriate."

"Hey!" Shad objected. "I'm the one who is supposed to quote movies and TV. Quit horning in on my action."

"Not to mention that I should get all the Brad Pitt lines," Charlie added with a suave smile.

Following that exchange, we got down to the job at hand. It was going to take a lot of work and a lot of money. But, we had plenty of hands and plenty of debit cards, so we got started right away.

**********

First things first, we got George to drive us over to the Casino hotel and we checked in. (Hey, they have nice rooms and great food. Okay?) Then we split into teams.

Since Toby and Bogdon brought their laptops, they got busy programming right away. They were able to use the Casino's wireless Internet connection to download a lot of good stuff that simplified their task. Meanwhile, George drove Thor, Charlie and me over to the Radio Shack and a computer store in Bryson City.

Freddie and Shad were assigned to case the Casino. Shad spent three hours at the buffet. That gave a perfect cover for Freddie to wander around the hotel with his video camera recording everything. Of course, kids are not allowed in the gambling areas, but using a telephoto lens Freddie got us some good pictures of it anyway.

We worked late into the night fueled with room service hamburgers, French fries and milkshakes. We worked up some serious Brain Sweat. At one point I swear I saw smoke coming from Bogdon's ears. But, by the time we went to bed Saturday night, the operation was set.

************

Chapter Thirty – Cherokee Sting

We slept a little late the next morning because we wanted to be rested up for our assault on the Casino. About 9:30 we got up and showered and dressed. Afterwards we hit the breakfast buffet and loaded up on pancakes, link sausage and fried apples and washed it all down with plenty of Mellow Yellow. With all that sugar and caffeine surging through our bodies we were roaring to go.

At 10:30 exactly, George Guest walked into the lobby of the Casino in his full Cherokee Medicine Man garb, complete with doe skin pants, a homespun cape and a turbaned headdress with feathers. Rattling and jingling, he attracted plenty of attention from the tourists in their boat shoes, baggy shorts and Hawaiian shirts.

George also attracted the attention of the Hotel Lobby manager, a fellow Cherokee and Museum board member, Mr. Randolph Gathers Nuts. Fearing some kind of confrontation was in the offing; Mr. Gathers Nuts quickly made his way over to intercept the elder Cherokee.

"George," called Mr. Gathers Nuts in an overly friendly manner. "I'm so glad to see you here at the Hotel. Did you come to see the display? It's right over here under the big sign."

George Guest remained quiet as Mr. Gathers Nuts lead him over to a section of the lobby that was flanked by more gaudy signage than a discount carpet outlet going out of business. Beneath a giant red and yellow poster that said 'WOW!' stood the glassed in case displaying The Arrow That Would Not Miss.

As George continued in silence, Randolph tried to impress him with the big plans for The Arrow.

"Next week we start Radio and Television ads in four states that co-promote The Arrow – along with our George Jones / Tammy Wynette look alike duet that's appearing nightly in the Main Room."

"It's going to be big, George," Randolph continued. "We think it may even surpass last summer's 4th of July / Free Wal-Mart Gift Card promotion."

At some point Randolph Gathers Nuts decided to try and force George to make some comment on the display. He attempted to force the old man on to speak.

"What do you think, George? What do you really think?"

There was a long pause before the old Indian finally responded.

"Randolph, you know I was against putting The Arrow That Would Not Miss into the Casino. But, I was over ruled. Who knows? Perhaps you and the other Board members are right. Perhaps this will draw many white eyes to the Casino. For, The Arrow is a great treasure of our People. It will be good for those who come here, to find out something of our history and our culture."

(I wondered if George was playing it a little over the top using a term like 'white eyes' – but Mr. Gathers Nuts bought the performance hook line and sinker.)

The hotel manager was pleasantly surprised that the Old Indian had accepted the inevitable. He had expected trouble from George and receiving this endorsement instead left him feeling pleased and generous.

"I'm glad you feel that way, George. I'm sure you realize we are just looking out for the financial interests of the Tribe."

He slapped the old man on the back and reached into his pockets and pulled out a token.

"As long as you are here, George, why don't you take this token - good for a complimentary trip to the 'Heap Big Breakfast Buffet' in the Casino's main dining room?"

"Thanks anyway," George replied. "I ate before I got here. Instead, I was thinking maybe I would try my hand at the Casino."

This really surprised Randolph. He knew George was a long time opponent to reservation gambling. Having a respected elder of George Guest's stature actually gambling in the Casino made Randolph feel like he had hit the jackpot himself.

"That's great," replied the hotel manager. "Might as well keep of those winnings in the Tribe. Eh, George? I wish you a lot of luck. If there's anything I can do for you to make your visit more comfortable, just let me know."

"Just one second," ordered George.

The old Indian pulled out a leather pouch full of dry red clay. He stepped over to the display case and laid his hands on the glass above The Arrow. Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer. Then he faced each of the four directions and blew dust.

"That's all the Luck that I am going to need," George informed the Lobby manager.

Randolph did not reply. So, the old Indian made a request.

"I don't suppose you could get an old Indian a glass of orange juice. Could You, Randolph?"

"Certainly," Randolph smiled again, eager to please. "Coming right up."

"Great," said George. "I'll be in the Casino."

Randolph Gathers Nuts was whistling out loud as he came back through the lobby carrying the double tall glass of ice cold Minute Maid. Of course, he politely greeted the group of uniformed Boy Scouts he spied admiring The Arrow, but he paid them no mind.

Randolph walked into Casino and found George sitting at the very first Video Poker machine. As Randolph walked up, the light atop the machine started flashing and bells started going off.

"A Royal Flush!" exclaimed Mr. Gathers Nuts as he approached the old Indian. "That's amazing, George. That's a $10,000 payout. I guess this must be your lucky day."

George Guest looked up and smiled. "You're right, Randolph. I am lucky. This is my third Royal Flush since I sat down."

Randolph Gathers Nuts was astonished when he looked over at video screen. Sure enough, George had balance of $30,000. The Hotel manager still had a smile on his face, but there was an underlying grimace, like maybe he had gotten hold of a bad grapefruit at the 'Heap Big Breakfast Buffet'.

"I always say the fourth time's the charm," George commented.

He put another coin into the machine. He drew a couple of cards for his poker hand – and the lights and bells started going off again.

"Four in a row. What are the odds?" asked the Old Medicine Man.

Randolph panicked when the fourth flush came up. He did not know what was happening. But, something was terribly wrong. He did know that he had to get that Indian off that poker machine!

"Here's your orange juice, George," Randolph said, handing the old man the glass.

George received the orange juice gratefully. While he took a great big gulp of Florida's finest, Randolph managed to stretch his leg around the side of the machine and kick the electric plug out with his foot. Abruptly the machine went dead.

"Oh. Would you look at that?" said Randolph dripping with false sincerity. "Looks like this machine is broken. No wonder you were getting all those Royal Flushes. Sorry, George. I don't think we can honor those winnings. There was obviously a video malfunction."

"No problem," said the old Indian calmly. "I'm winning because of Luck of The Arrow. I can do as well at any other machine in the place."

George Guest took another sip of orange juice and then handed the glass back to the Hotel manager. The old Indian got up from his seat and walked across the aisle to the adjacent row of video machines.

As he approached the next device, he spread his arms and the view of the screen was momentarily obscured by the cape across the old man's shoulders. Whispering something in the Cherokee language, George bent over and touched his head to the screen.

Then, as Randolph watched in horror, George Guest proceeded to rack up another five Royal Flushes in a row. When that machine also mysteriously went dead, the old Indian repeated his lucky streak at a third station next door.

Randolph Gathers Nuts was in a panic and was left with no other choice. He quickly disappeared around the corner and slipped into the electrical storeroom. He immediately popped open the breaker box and cut power to the entire room.

"I'm sorry Folks," Randolph announced returning to the casino. "Looks like we are having some temporary technical difficulties. Please help yourself to a complimentary breakfast buffet across the lobby in the dining room, while we try and sort things out."

As the grumbling early morning crowd shuffled out of the room, the Hotel manager stepped out once more to find a house phone and called his chief maintenance engineer.

"Get that Arrow out of my hotel!" he screamed over the phone. "Right this minute!"

As Randolph regained his composure, he walked back over the gambling room. He arrived in time to catch a couple of Boy Scouts that had sneaked inside.

"I'm sorry, Boys," Randolph reprimanded them. "Adults only in the gambling areas."

"No problem, Sir," the shortest scout said in a polite and respectful way. "We just wanted to see what it looked like."

He flashed the Hotel manager a large Aqua fresh smile that seemed even whiter set off against his fiery red hair. Then, the scouts dutifully trudged out of the room.

************

Chapter Thirty-One – The Arrow Returns

Less than an hour later we were back in the Museum Director's office, explaining to Walter Yellow Horse why 'The Arrow That Would Not Miss' was suddenly and unexpectedly returned to his care.

"So, George hit fourteen Royal Flushes in a row? Why that's impossible," he exclaimed.

"You're right," Charlie agreed. "It can't be done."

Realization flashed across the Museum Director's face.

"Okay," Walter said. "If it can't be done... then George must have had help. So, how did you guys do it? Did you hack into the Video Games?"

"Heck no," said Bogdon. "That would have been hard. It would have taken days to do something that complicated."

"Well, how did you make George win?" Walter asked.

"It's simple really," Bog replied. "George did not really win. It just looked like he did."

"You mean like an illusion or some sort of mass hypnosis?"

"No," explained Bogdon. "I mean like an ultra thin plastic video screen that George had under his cape. When George leaned against the poker machine, he slapped the plastic screen over the video display that was there. The microchip underneath the plastic display kept playing the same program that showed a Royal Flush being drawn. When George moved to another machine, he slapped it on another video screen."

"Oh," Bog continued," and Thor was in the lobby with a video camera that had a laser hidden inside. When he fired the laser at the lights on top of the machines, the electrical surge caused them to flash and the bells to ring."

Walter Yellow Horse shook his head in amazement. "Well that explains it," he said. "For a minute there, I thought maybe The Arrow was some sort of lucky charm."

"Of course it is," answered George nonchalantly. "But, I am not about to use it on some penny ante poker machines."

Dr. Walter Yellow Horse, PhD chuckled uncomfortably. He was not sure if the old Indian was joking or not.

************

With The Arrow That Would Not Miss back in safe hands, we called the Limo driver and set up our return trip. George blessed us all once more and we took off on the long road back to Granite Falls. I got to the house just in time to have dinner with the family. Even after our adventure, it was good to be home.

We did not hear from our Cherokee friends for the next couple of weeks. But, one day registered letters came to each of our homes inviting us to the opening of the new Museum display of The Arrow.

The museum was going whole hog on this celebration. They were putting us up in high roller suites at the Casino and even our families were invited to come along.

When I passed on the invitation on to Mom and Dad, they were excited. Mom was looking forward to a two day break from housework and Dad was hoping to catch the Tammy and George show he had been hearing so much about on the radio.

Unfortunately, they both insisted we did have to take Jenny along.

Oh, and as a post script. George was having some success figuring out the secrets of The Arrow That Would Not Miss. You may have read about the Old Indian from Cherokee North Carolina that won $112 million in last week's Power Ball lottery.

You remember? The guy that gave all the winnings to his Tribe?

************

Chapter Thirty-Two – The Ongoing Battle

It was that same moonlight night in the deep forest and I was on that same granite boulder jutting out from the mountain. But this time it was me, Jeep Muldoon, and not the Lynx.

I sat there staring, looking out across the valley and admiring the forest in the silver moonlight.

George noticed me waiting there, so he walked over and sat down beside me. He could tell that I was troubled.

"It's good to see you, Jeep," he said in soft Cherokee. "Why are you here?"

I was distraught and the words did not come easily at first. But finally they began to spill out.

"I need your help," I explained.

George leaned in closer, but said nothing.

"It's this crazy dream," I admitted. "Over and over, night after night, I dream the same dream. I am standing on this very rock and bright moonlight illuminates the forest around me. And, right in front of me are two enormous wolves. One is white and one is black."

I paused.

"And every night there is a fierce battle?" George suggested.

"Yes," I agreed almost sobbing. "Each night it is savage. The wolves rip into each other. It's vicious and terrifying. And, I just want them to stop!"

It was quiet for a minute. Then George put his arm on my shoulder.

"It's okay, Jeep," George explained. "The same two wolves battle within each of us."

I looked up and saw the moonlight illuminating the old medicine man. For a minute, it looked like his eyes were glowing.

"The black wolf is Evil. He is anger, sorrow, resentment and arrogance. The white wolf is good. He is truth, generosity, kindness and faith."

George shook his head. "This battle will take place over and over until one wolf finally prevails."

I exhaled in relief. I was not going crazy! The battle would eventually come to an end.

But, then it struck me like a hammer. Bam!

My voice cracked as I asked the ultimate question. I trembled.

"But which wolf is going to win the battle?"

My panicked words hung in the air, and I looked over to see George. He was smiling.

Moonlight twinkled in his eyes and the old Indian reached over and laid another reassuring hand on my shoulder. He quietly gave me my answer.

"Whichever wolf you feed, Jeep. Whichever wolf you feed."

************

About the Author

Matt Musson was born in Austin, TX and grew up in San Antonio. He earned two degrees at the University of Texas and moved east to work for Ross Perot as a Systems Analyst. He has developed systems for Planters Peanuts, LifeSavers Candies, Sara Lee, and Bank of America.

Matt is currently in North Carolina developing banking software and working part-time for the Charlotte Bobcats. He has four incredible children: Skye, McClain, Granath, and Chandler. Matt collects vintage rodeo belt buckles and Indian jewelry when he is not prospecting for Carolina gold and emeralds.

He is a contributing author to the non-fiction anthology Sports in the Carolinas: From Death Valley to Tobacco Road. He has two baseball novels available online: The '51 Rocks and Batboy on the Worst Team Ever. Other Jeep Muldoon adventures include The Mystery of Merlin's Magic and WhaleQuest!

