Danny Dunn and the Fossil Cave

by Raymond Abrashkin

  The Professor got up, and went up the steps to stand beside the three big stalactites hanging above the “Altar.”

  “Now, then, let me think a moment,” he said. “As I recall it, when we walked up to this stone platform, we saw the three stalactites lined up, one behind the other. If I’m right, the tunnel we want should lie either in that direction, or directly opposite.”

  He pointed, and then climbed down and walked resolutely forward. The beam of his lantern picked out a dark opening between two long ribs of fluted stone. On either side of it other, smaller, holes appeared, but the one in the center seemed to be about the right size.

  “It doesn’t look absolutely familiar,” said the Professor, “but let’s chance it. Don’t forget, even if it isn’t the way by which we came, there’s always the possibility that it may be another way out to the surface.”

  He strode forward. The passage, at first just large enough to permit him to walk upright, widened and grew larger. The Professor moved steadily onward. But suddenly, his light shone out into empty space. The floor of the passage ended, and he found that he was standing on the lip of a sheer drop, a kind of miniature cliff, overlooking another large cavern.

  “Trouble again,” said Joe.

  Danny got down on his hands and knees and peered over the brink. “Shine your light down, Professor Bullfinch,” he said. “Look, there’s a crack running at a slant down the face of this cliff. It’s wide enough to stand on and get your toes into. It goes down—oh, maybe for twenty feet or so, and then I can see gravel, a big bank of it, fanning down in a slope. It wouldn’t be hard to get to the bottom.”

  “Yeah, but what for?” Joe asked. “What’s down there?”

  “I don’t know what’s down there, Joe,” said the Professor, “but there’s something up here.” He raised one hand, turning it about. “There’s a definite current of air here. I can feel it. That may mean an opening—air blowing in from outside.”

  “Then let’s investigate it,” said Danny, eagerly.

  “I mean to,” the Professor replied. “I’ll go down first.”

  “Oh,” said Danny.

  The Professor took Danny’s rope and tied it firmly to a short but thick stalagmite a little way back from the edge. He let it dangle over the drop and followed it down with the beam of his lamp.

  “Plenty of line,” he said. “You’re right, Dan. I don’t think it’s more than twenty feet to that gravel, and from there I should have no difficulty.”

  He sat on the edge and put his toes into the shelving crack. “We can break our rule for this once, and use all the lights,” he said. “I’ll hold the rope as I go. If, when I get to the bottom, it looks promising, I’ll call and you can let down the packs and the C-ray, and then come down yourselves. Otherwise, I’ll simply climb back.” He winked. “Keep your chins up,” he smiled, and started down.

  Danny watched from above, holding the beam of his flashlight steady on the Professor’s bald head. They saw him reach the gravel and, still holding the rope, make his way downward, sliding and staggering. They could hear the rattle of stones. Then the rope went slack, and they guessed he had come to the end of it and let it go. They saw his light flashing from side to side, and suddenly it vanished.

  Before they could speak, it went on again. It shone steadily in one place for a few minutes, and then it began jerking and bobbing in a curious fashion. They heard the Professor call out. Both the distance and the echoes made it impossible to hear what he was saying.

  “But that doesn’t matter,” Danny said. “He told us he’d yell if it was safe. Come on, let’s send down the knapsacks.”

  They hauled up the rope and quickly tied their packs and the C-ray to it. Slowly and carefully, they let their burden down until they could see it land on the top of the gravel slide. They waited for the Professor to come up and untie it. But his light remained where it was, and once again they heard him shout something they couldn’t understand.

  “I’m going down,” Danny said, abruptly.

  “Oh, Dan, do you think you should?” said Irene, gripping his arm.

  “There’s something wrong. I’ve got to go.”

  He swung himself over the edge and without bothering about the rope edged quickly along the crack, clinging to the rock face with his fingers. It was rough enough to offer him plenty of handholds. He reached the gravel without trouble, and started down it toward the Professor’s light, which he could see near the bottom.

  “Professor Bullfinch!” he called.

  “I’m here,” came the answer. “But be careful. Try not to start any of the stones rolling if you can help it.”

  Picking his way downward, Danny found the Professor seated on a round, smooth boulder with his lamp at his feet. He had one shoe off, and was binding up his ankle with a bloodstained handkerchief.

  “I’m afraid it’s sprained,” he said, apologetically.

  Danny fell on his knees. “Let me look,” he said.

  There was a long, but fortunately rather shallow cut on the Professor’s leg. His ankle was bruised and already quite swollen.

  “The gravel began slipping under me,” the Professor explained. “I lost my balance, and then I caught my foot between two large stones.”

  “Can you walk?” Danny asked.

  “Not very well, I’m afraid. The worst of it is, I’m sure I can’t climb back up that cliff.”

  Danny went to the top of the gravel pile and called to the others. “Come on down.”

  “What’s the matter?” Irene shouted.

  “It’s the Professor. He’s hurt.”

  As they started down the cliff, Danny untied the C-ray and the knapsacks and carried them to where the Professor sat. He began rummaging in Irene’s pack for the first-aid kit. “Be careful,” he called, as Irene and Joe came down the slope. “We don’t want any more sprained ankles.”

  Irene, who was an expert in first aid, set to work at once washing the Professor’s wound with the rest of the water from the canteen. She dressed the sides of the cut with Mercurochrome, and then taped up his ankle. “How’s that?” she said.

  “It feels better already,” said the Professor.

  Joe, watching with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, said, “You know, this could mean trouble. How are we going to get him back up that cliff?”

  The Professor glanced up mildly. “There’s one other small point which could mean trouble,” he said.

  “What?” said Danny, who held the light for Irene, as she repacked her kit.

  “Well… where, exactly, is Dr. Tresselt?”

  The three young people exchanged startled and horrified glances.

  “Great jumping gleepers!” said Danny, at last. “I—I forgot all about him. I guess I thought he was following us.”

  “So did I,” said Irene. “And it was dark, too… Now that you mention it, I don’t know when I last saw him.”

  They stared at each other, and Joe let out a long groan of despair.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Charm for Engineering

  “Well!” said Professor Bullfinch. “This is a fine mess.”

  “It’s a mess all right,” Joe said, rolling up his eyes. “But what’s fine about it?”

  “Maybe he’s back in the tunnel a little way,” Danny suggested. “He might have stopped to look at something. Let’s yell for him.”

  All together, they shouted at the tops of their voices: “Doctor Tresselt! DOCTOR TRESSELT!”

  There was no reply.

  The young people sank to the ground, and even Professor Bullfinch looked a little discouraged. “I should have thought of this,” he said. “It would have been wiser, perhaps, to send him in the lead where we could keep an eye on him.”

  “But where could he be, Professor?” Irene said.

  “I should guess,” the Prof
essor answered, “that he saw something which caught his attention back in the glittering cavern, and that he is either still there, or has taken one of the other tunnels. There’s no way of telling. When Alvin becomes absorbed in his work he forgets everything else, as you know.”

  He drew out his faithful pipe and began slowly filling it. “Maybe this will help me think,” he said. “Cheer up, friends. We’re not finished yet. Don’t look so downhearted, Danny. You should know that to a scientist every problem has a solution. It’s just a matter of time before we find the answer to this one.”

  “I wasn’t looking sad because of that,” Danny said. “I was just thinking—well—that this whole thing is my fault.”

  “Really? That’s very interesting. How do you make that out?”

  “I found the cave, didn’t I? And I was the one who suggested that we make the trip. And if I had only thought of a simpler way of marking the trail instead of trying to be so scientific—! How was I to know that the whole cavern would be radioactive? And I shouldn’t have crossed that stone bridge, either. We might still be safe on the other side.”

  The Professor drew at his pipe with enjoyment, and puffed out half a dozen smoke rings. He watched them drift up a little way and then dissolve. “Dear me,” he said, “you have certainly made out a dismal case against yourself. However, Dr. Tresselt was as eager to go as you were, and it was I who agreed to the expedition. I’m afraid your mother was right about us after all. I’ve hurt my ankle, and Dr. Tresselt is—well—heaven knows where.

  “As for the stone bridge, you certainly didn’t make it collapse. Alvin and I should have known better than to go across it together. It was our combined weight that made it fall; we were so deep in our discussion that we weren’t thinking.

  “It’s true, the Geiger counter was your idea. Actually, not a bad one, either. As you say, how were you to guess that something would go wrong?”

  He grinned at Danny, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “My dear boy, there’s no doubt you are headstrong, and you often act without thinking of the consequences. But you mustn’t try to take too much blame. Leave some of it for other people!”

  He tamped the tobacco down into his pipe with a calloused thumb. “There’s a good basic principle I always follow,” he went on. “When you can’t think of anything to do, just relax. I propose we do just that. I’ll rest my ankle so that perhaps I can walk on it a bit, and if we just sit here for a while Alvin may find us of his own accord.”

  “That’s true,” Irene said. “He may be in the glittering cave, and when he realizes he’s alone he’ll follow us.”

  Joe pulled out his notebook and began scribbling. Danny sat down next to the C-ray and gazed at it mournfully, running his finger along its smooth metal case.

  Irene said, “Professor Bullfinch is right, Dan. Stop brooding! I don’t blame you, and neither do the others.”

  “No…it isn’t that,” he replied, with a sigh. “I’m all mixed up, inside. I keep thinking about so many different ideas—getting out of here, and finding Dr. Tresselt, and the Professor’s ankle—”

  He frowned. “There’s something else, too. I keep having the feeling that there’s something in the back of my mind, something I’ve forgotten. If I could only remember what it is, I think we’d know what to do. Something important, too…”

  “Well, I hope you remember it,” Irene said. She got up and wandered aside a little way, flashing her light on the ground.

  Joe cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’d like to hear a poem I just wrote, would you?”

  “A good idea, Joe,” said the Professor. “It will make us all feel better, I’m sure. Go ahead.” Joe stuck his pencil behind his ear, and began to read:

  “A cave man sat in his cave of stone,

  Picking his teeth with an old steak bone.

  He felt very brave

  While in his cave,

  Though he didn’t have lights or a telephone.

  But all at once he heard a roar,

  And a saber-tooth tiger was at his door!

  The poor old mole

  Was in a hole,

  And the tiger would have his hide, he swore.

  But just as the tiger wrinkled his snout,

  The cave man jumped to his feet with a shout.

  He grabbed the back wall

  And gave it a haul,

  And turned his cave right inside out!

  Then he was out, and the tiger in,

  So he rolled up a rock with a cheerful grin;

  He blocked the way

  For a week and a day,

  And now he’s wearing a tiger skin.”

  He bowed modestly as the others clapped their hands. “That’s marvelous, Joe,” Irene exclaimed. “How do you do it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Joe shrugged. “I just put the pencil on the paper, cross my eyes, and out comes a poem. As far as that goes, I’ve always wondered how you and Danny manage so easily with arithmetic. That’s my worst subject.”

  “Well, I’m delighted we have you with us, Joe,” chuckled the Professor. “Poetry and science go very well together.”

  Danny bent over the C-ray once again. “If only we could get this thing working,” he muttered, shining the flashlight on the machine.

  “What good would that do?” said Joe. “Do you think Dr. Tresselt has turned into a fossil?”

  “I can’t understand—” the Professor began.

  Danny interrupted him with a yelp. “Professor Bullfinch! I think I know what’s wrong.”

  “Really? What is it?” asked the Professor, eagerly.

  “It’s the knob that controls the focus,” said Danny. “Look, when you turn it, it just moves loosely. See? It was held on by a little nut, or something like that, and the nut is gone.”

  The Professor, supporting himself carefully to keep his weight off his ankle, bent forward to peer at the machine. “Yes, by George! You’re right. You have good eyes, my boy. It must have fallen off when we took that slide into the mud.”

  “Isn’t there any way of fixing it?” asked Irene.

  “I don’t see how,” said the Professor. “I didn’t bring any spare parts. Unless—perhaps one of the boys has a replacement in his pocket?”

  Danny and Joe at once turned their pockets inside out. “We’ve got enough to stock a general store,” Danny sighed. “Rubber bands, pencils, string, paper, stamps, knives, a watch spring, a cog-wheel—you name it. But no nuts or bolts. Isn’t that always the way when you want something?”

  “Maybe we could hold it on with chewing gum?” Joe suggested.

  “A great idea. Got any gum?”

  “Um… no.”

  Danny sank back and put his chin in his hands, plunged even deeper into gloom. The Professor turned his pipe over and over as if it might give him an idea. Joe began writing in his notebook, once again, and Irene returned to her searching about on the ground.

  Suddenly, she bent and picked something up. “Ah!” she cried. “Maybe this would do.”

  “What would do what?” asked Danny. “What have you been looking for?”

  “You remember, I said I wanted to get something to represent geology on my charm bracelet,” Irene said. “I’ve been keeping my eyes open for some sort of pretty little pebble. I thought that here, where all this gravel has piled up, I might find something. And look—this one is just the right size.”

  She held out a small, pure white stone, polished and shining, and about the size of her littlest finger nail.

  “Maybe my father can drill a hole through it so I can hang it on my bracelet,” she said.

  Danny had been staring at her in fascination. “Bracelet!” he said.

  They all looked at him. “Are you wearing your bracelet?” he went on, in a tense voice.

  “Why, of course.
Don’t you remember?” Irene shook her hand so that the charms jingled together.

  “Come here. Let me see it.”

  So excited was his tone that Irene came to him without another word and held out her wrist.

  “Engineering!” Danny said. “I thought so.”

  “Engi—?” Irene began.

  “A small nut and bolt,” Danny interrupted. “That’s what you used to represent engineering. Just what we need to fix the C-ray. The only question is, is the nut the right size? Take it off the bracelet, Irene.”

  She did so, and Danny bent over the machine with it while the others turned their lights on him, and watched. He twisted the nut on the threaded rod with fingers that trembled slightly.

  “I can just—force it—on,” he panted. “I think that will hold it, though.”

  He straightened up. “Can I try the machine, now, Professor?”

  “Why, of course, Dan,” said Professor Bullfinch. “I hope it will work, but I don’t exactly see how this makes any difference to us.”

  “It does, though!” Danny snapped the switch, and as the screen grew bright, looked up toward the dark entrance through which they had come, high above them. “This may help us locate Dr. Tresselt.”

  He frowned. “Let’s just try it on that far wall,” he said, “and see whether it’s working.” He pointed the nozzle of the C-ray at the wall and began turning the knob which regulated the distance of the ray and brought objects into focus. A web of shadows grew on the screen. Slowly, their outlines became clearer, sharpened into long streaks, and then at one corner of the screen they saw a small object come into focus. It looked something like a scallop shell: they could see faint, fluted markings like outspread wings on each side of a central ridge.

  “A brachiopod,” exclaimed the Professor. “Clearly, a primitive brachiopod.”

  “Golly!” said Joe. “Is that good?”

  “What is it, Professor?” Irene said.

  “A shellfish. Something like a—well—like a kind of clam.”

  “You mean somebody ate clams inside that wall?” said Joe. “How’d he get in there?”

  “That shellfish, Joe, may have lived a hundred million years ago,” said the Professor, solemnly.