The Smelly Search (Geronimo Stilton Cavemice #13)

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by Geronimo Stilton




  Dear mouse friends,

  welcome to the

  STONE AGE!

  Welcome to the Stone Age . . .

  And the World of the cavemice!

  Capital:

  Old Mouse City

  population:

  We’re not

  sure. (Math doesn’t exist yet!) But Besides

  CaveMiCe, there are plenty Of dinOsaurs, Way tOO Many saBer-tOOthed

  tigers, and ferOCiOus Cave Bears — But nO MOuse has

  ever had the COurage tO COunt theM!

  typiCal Food:

  petrified Cheese sOup

  national Holiday:

  Great Zap Day,

  WhiCh CeleBrates the disCOvery Of fire. rOdents

  exChange grilled Cheese sandWiChes On this hOliday.

  national drink:

  MaMMOth Milkshakes

  Climate:

  Unpredictable,

  With

  frequent MeteOr shOWers

  cheese

  soup

  seashells Of all shapes

  and sizes

  money

  the BasiC unit Of MeasureMent is Based On

  the length Of the tail Of the leader Of

  the village. a unit Can Be divided intO a

  half tail Or quarter tail. the leader is

  alWays ready tO present his tail When there

  is a dispute.

  measurement

  milk

  shake

  THE CAVEMICE

  Geronimo

  Trap

  Thea

  Benjamin

  Hercule Poirat

  Bugsy Wugsy

  Grandma Ratrock

  Geronimo Stilton

  CAVEMICE

  THE SMELLY

  SEARCH

  Scholastic Inc.

  Copyright © 2014 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Palazzo Mondadori, Via

  Mondadori 1, 20090 Segrate, Italy. International Rights © Atlantyca

  S.p.A. English translation © 2017 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any

  responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are

  copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All

  rights reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted. Based

  on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami. www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920

  , 557 Broadway, New

  York, NY 10012. SCHOLASTIC

  and associated logos are trademarks

  and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered

  trademark of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more

  information, go to www.stiltoncheese.com.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,

  Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected],

  www.atlantyca.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,

  and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business

  establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-08864-9

  Text

  by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title Per mille pietruzze . . . il gonfiosauro fa le puzze!

  Cover by Flavio Ferron

  Illustrations by Giuseppe Facciotto (design) and Alessandro Costa (color)

  Graphics by

  Chiara Cebraro with Paola Molteni

  Special thanks to Shannon Penney

  Translated by Lidia Morson Tramontozzi

  Interior design by Becky James

  First printing 2017

  MANY AGES AGO, ON PREHISTORIC MOUSE ISLAND, THERE

  WAS A VILLAGE CALLED OLD MOUSE CITY. IT WAS INHABITED

  BY BRAVE

  RODENT SAPIENS

  KNOWN AS THE CAVEMICE.

  DANGERS SURROUNDED THE MICE AT EVERY TURN:

  EARTHQUAKES, METEOR SHOWERS, FEROCIOUS DINOSAURS,

  AND FIERCE GANGS OF SABER-TOOTHED TIGERS. BUT THE

  BRAVE CAVEMICE FACED IT ALL WITH A SENSE OF HUMOR,

  AND WERE ALWAYS READY TO LEND A HAND TO OTHERS.

  HOW DO I KNOW THIS? I DISCOVERED AN

  ANCIENT BOOK WRITTEN BY MY ANCESTOR, GERONIMO

  STILTONOOT! HE CARVED HIS STORIES INTO STONE TABLETS

  AND ILLUSTRATED THEM WITH HIS ETCHINGS.

  I AM PROUD TO SHARE THESE STONE AGE STORIES WITH

  YOU. THE EXCITING ADVENTURES OF THE CAVEMICE WILL

  MAKE YOUR FUR STAND ON END, AND THE JOKES WILL

  TICKLE YOUR WHISKERS! HAPPY READING!

  Geronimo Stilton

  Warning!

  Don’t imitate the cavemice.

  We’re not in the Stone Age anymore!

  MYSTERIOUS MAIL!

  It was a warm autumn

  morning

  and I

  was feeling mousetastic! There were no

  meteor

  showers, no erupting volcanoes,

  and no earthquakes.

  Bones and

  Stones!

  It was a fabumouse

  cavemouse day!

  After a light breakfast of fourteen Jurassic

  cheeses, ten Paleozoic cheese balls, and eight

  cups of

  frothy

  mammoth milkshake,

  I nimbly skipped to my office. (Well, more

  or less —

  buuurp!

  )

  Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! My name

  is Stiltonoot,

  Geronimo Stiltonoot

  ,

  and I’m the publisher of The Stone Gazette,

  the most famouse newspaper

  in the

  STONE AGE

  . . .

  probably because it’s the

  only one!

  I had just stuck my snout

  out of my cave, when I

  heard a flapping sound —

  SWOOOOOSH!

  —

  followed by a loud shriek:

  Then . . .

  Huh?!

  Mail!”

  Bonk

  A mail-a-dactyl dropped a stone slab on

  my head! Great rocky boulders — the slab

  was so heavy, it

  flattened

  me on the

  ground like a Jurassic cheddar pancake!

  When I sat up again, I looked at the

  mysterious

  mega-slab and was shocked

  to see that it was from . . .

  Sally

  Rockmousen

  . My archenemy Sally —

  the host of Gossip Radio, the rodent who

  spreads fake news all over Old Mouse

  City — actually wrote to me?!

  Impawssible!


  Gossip Radio is The Stone Gazette’s

  biggest, most double-crossing competitor.

  Its headquarters are perched on top of a

  small hill. From there, Sally

  screeches

  the

  most inaccurate, dishonest, and just plain

  fake gossip in the Stone Age.

  Sally’s

  news

  is passed by word of

  mouth to other rodents and shriekers,

  Bad weather coming!

  Bag feather coming!

  Big father

  coming!

  who then screech it to others. By the time

  the news gets to the last mouse, it usually

  doesn’t even make any

  sense

  . Sally’s stories get mouserifically

  W

  A

  R

  P

  E

  D

  !

  What kind of reporting is that? Sally is a

  pawsitive fraud! I didn’t even read her note.

  As soon as I got to the office

  that morning, I was greeted by my

  assistant,

  WILEY UPSNOOT

  .

  “Everything okay, boss?”

  “See for yourself,” I

  grumbled, handing him

  Sally’s

  note.

  He read the message

  carefully. “Boss, it’s

  an

  invitation

  ! Sally is

  inviting you to a

  mousestastic

  Huh?!

  team

  TREASURE HUNT

  !”

  For all the thorns on a cactus!

  “

  What?! Are you sure, Wiley?

  ”

  I asked.

  Wiley handed the note back to me. “Hold

  on to your cheese, boss — take a look!”

  Dear Geronimo,

  You are officially invited to participate in a

  mega team treasure hunt organized by the most

  distinguished reporter in the Stone Age — me,

  Sally Rockmousen! Do you accept? Mark the

  box of your choice:

  I accept!

  Absolutely!

  I can’t refuse!

  Sure!

  Petrified Cheese!

  “

  Never!

  ” I squeaked.

  “Never say never, boss,” replied Wiley.

  “I refuse to go!” I said, shaking my snout.

  He shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss,

  but did you see this?”

  The back of the slab had another message

  chiseled in very, very, very small print:

  If you don’t participate, Gossip Radio will squeak

  to every rodent in the Stone Age that you’re afraid

  to lose. Old Mouse City will finally realize that

  you’re a total scaredy-mouse! See you tomorrow

  morning in Singing Rock Square!

  Crusty cheese chunks! How could Sally

  Rockmousen accuse me of such a thing?

  Okay, so maybe I’m not the bravest mouse

  in the

  STONE AGE

  , but I’ve always worked

  hard, and I’ve never turned my back on a

  challenge

  .

  “That really

  toasts

  my cheese!” I

  muttered. “I’ll never go on Sally’s treasure

  hunt — and I mean

  Never

  !”

  Sally

  Rock

  mousen

  THINK VERY

  CAREFULLY, BOSS!

  Wiley looked me square in the

  EYE

  . “I

  don’t think that’s such a good idea, boss.”

  “You’re right, Wiley,” I said firmly. “After

  all the dirty

  TRICKS

  Sally has pulled on

  us, I’m not going to fall for another one!”

  “No!” he replied. “I mean that it’s not a

  good idea to

  refuse

  Sally’s invitation.”

  Rotten ricotta! Wiley was using the same

  tone of voice Grandma Ratrock used in the

  morning to get me out of bed for the gym.

  “You definitely

  HAVE TO

  participate,”

  Wiley squeaked.

  “But . . . I don’t

  HAVE TO

  !” I replied.

  “You see, I

  HAVE TO

  go to the dentist . . .

  and I

  HAVE TO

  feed my autosaurus . . .

  and I

  HAVE TO

  work at the office, but —”

  “That’s exactly it!” Wiley squeaked. “The

  office! Work! The newspaper! If you don’t

  participate in the

  TREASURE HUNT

  , how

  do you think that will make The Stone

  Gazette look?”

  The truth was,

  WILEY

  was right. I couldn’t

  refuse. I couldn’t risk looking like an

  unsportsmouselike

  rodent. The Stone

  Gazette’s reputation was at stake!

  “Oh, all right . . .” I caved.

  We’ll look

  bad!

  Gulp!

  I reluctantly began

  chiseling

  a

  check mark on the invitation.

  Once I finished, I scurried out of the

  office and started

  LOOKING

  for some

  other mice to join my team. And who do

  you think was the

  first

  rodent to pop

  into my head?

  You got it! The most famouse detective in

  the Stone Age: my friend

  Hercule Poirat

  !

  Well done,

  boss!

  THIS WHOLE THING

  STINKS!

  W

  h

  o

  o

  o

  o

  o

  o

  a

  !

  I headed for Hercule’s cave as fast as my

  paws would take me. But as I got closer, I

  didn’t see the Paleozoic

  banana peel

  lying on the ground. I stepped on it, lost my

  balance, and . . .

  I began slipping and

  sliding down the hill,

  faster

  and

  faster

  and

  faster

  !

  Holey boulders,

  I was in trouble!

  avala

  nche

  Zoooo

  OOM

  UGH!

  I

  rolled

  along like an

  and crashed into Hercule’s cave! Dazed, I

  stayed there

  flattened

  against the rock

  like a barnacle attached to a Paleozoic cliff.

  How prehistorically painful!

  Hearing my

  thundering

  entrance, my

  friend Hercule scurried out of his cave.

  “Pointy triceratops

  horns, Geronimo!

  Oof!

  Couldn’t you have

  just knocked?”

  I

  groaned

  ,

  massaging my bumps

  and bruises.

  Once I got

  myself together,

  I told Hercule

  about the

  TREASURE HUNT

  . />
  “

  Very strange!

  ” he remarked. “I’d

  better come with you. Who knows what

  kind of a mess you’ll end up in otherwise!”

  “It’s settled, then — you’ll be part of my

  team

  !” I squeaked, relieved.

  “Yes, but, Geronimo,” Hercule said in a

  low voice, “this seems like a dirty

  trick

  .

  This whole treasure hunt thing

  STINKS

  even more than you do . . .”

  I guess I hadn’t bathed in almost a

  Ouch!

  Couldn’t you

  have just

  knocked?

  THEA STEERING HER TEAM OF

  SLED-AUTOSAURUSES

  month

  — but how could he tell?!

  “

  Let’s see!

  ” my friend pondered.

  “Our team is going to need someone who’s

  brave, dynamic, and full of

  energy

  . In

  other words, we need your sister, Thea!”

  “But she’s not around,” I answered with

  a frown. “She’s on an expedition to the

  Land of Ice

  !”

  “

  Bones and stones!

  ” Hercule exclaimed,

  peeling a banana and looking disappointed.

  “Then who else are we going to recruit?”

  “Well, we could ask Trap . . .” I suggested

  with a shrug.

  “Fabumouse!” Hercule squeaked, cheering

  up. “At least we’ll have a good supply of

  food

  !”

  My cousin Trap runs the

  Rotten

  Tooth Tavern

  , which is famouse for

  its food. The chef,

  Greasella Stonyfur,

  makes whisker-licking good meals.

  Yum!

  “We can ask my nephew Benjamin, too,”

  I added.

  “That’s good,” agreed Hercule, munching

  on another banana. “But we also need some

  female

  intuition!”

  “Uh, female intuition?” I repeated,

  scratching my snout. “Who did you have

  in mind?

  Harriet

  Heftymouse

  ,

  the village leader’s

  daughter?”

  “Of course not,

  Geronimo!” Hercule said.

  “We need someone who’s more

  determined. Someone who’s as

  sharp

  as aged cheddar. Someone like your

  Grandma Ratrock!”

  “But Grandma is at the

  Great Gurgling

 

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