The Case of the Jumping Frogs (4 page)

Three of the detectives’ classmates—Larry Winslow, Bill Marshall, and Ken Uster—were in the crowd.

“You got here just in time,” Larry said to the detectives. “This race ends in a few minutes.”

Encyclopedia watched the seven mowers scream around the curves.

“How come there are only seven mowers in this race?” Sally asked.

Ken explained. Twenty mowers had started, each driven by a team of two men and a woman. Fifteen teams had to retire. Most of them had gone to the hospital with headaches, sprains, cuts, and bruises.

“Racing lawn mowers can be hard on your health,” Bill observed.

The crowd began cheering. A teenager, Mary Mullins, had taken the lead. She crossed the finish line the winner.

Her two teammates rushed to congratulate her. Autograph hunters held out pen and pencil. She looked very tired, but she signed everything put in front of her.

“The next race is a one-miler,” Larry said. “The rules are different from the twelve-hour race. No pit stops for fuel are allowed. The engine has to be the one that came with the mower. So the mowers can’t go as fast as in the twelve-hour race.”

“What you
can
do,” added Bill, “is change the driving gears or pulleys to send more power to the wheels. That gives you more speed.”

The contestants in the one-mile race were announced. Larry’s twin brother, Bill’s aunt, and Ken’s cousin were all competing. Mary Mullins was in the race, too. The
detectives and a few of the crowd, including Bill, Ken, and Larry, followed Mary to her trailer in the parking lot. On the trailer was her shiny new mower. It had yellow racing stripes and countless coats of polish.

She tightened the wide belt that held her insides in place going over the bumps. After adjusting her crash helmet, she pushed the mower to the starting line.

The command came. “Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines!”

All ten mowers sputtered to life.

The drivers leaped aboard. They quickly attached a cutoff switch to their bodysuits. If a driver was thrown off the mower, the engine stopped.

The starting gun sounded. The mowers roared down the course.

Mary Mullins didn’t get far. She hit two bumps and her mower died.

Jumping to the ground, she peered at the engine. Ken, Larry, Bill, and the detectives rushed over to help.

“The nut and bolt that hold the line from the gas tank to the carburetor fell off,” she said. “Luckily, the line hung upright or gas would have spilled all over the course. I just lost the gas in the carburetor.”

She shook her head, puzzled. “Everything was tight yesterday. The engine ran beautifully.”

She glanced at the mowers racing away. “If I find the
nut and bolt and can get wrenches quickly, I can at least finish.”

“I’ll get the wrenches,” Bill volunteered. “Where do you keep them?”

“All my socket wrenches and open-end wrenches are in the toolbox in my truck,” Mary said.

“I’m on my way,” Bill said.

While he was gone, Ken, Larry, and the detectives helped Mary search for the nut and bolt.

“Here’s a nut!” Ken cried. He picked it up from the grass a few yards past the first bump. Larry found a bolt past the second bump.

Mary said the nut and bolt were hers.

Bill came running back. “I brought an open-end wrench
and
a socket wrench just to be safe.”

Using the wrenches, Mary tightened the bolt and nut in place. She started the engine and set off in hot pursuit of the other mowers.

“The nut and bolt were loosened by someone who didn’t want Mary Mullins to win the one-mile race,” Sally mused. “It was easy to do while everyone was watching the finish of the twelve-hour race.”

“That makes sense,” Encyclopedia murmured.

Sally frowned. “The guilty person wanted someone besides Mary to win. That makes Larry, Bill, and Ken suspects. They each had a family member in the race. Or it
could have been someone else.
Anyone!
”

“No, not just anyone,” corrected Encyclopedia.

“Don’t tell me you know who did it,” Sally said.

Encyclopedia nodded. “I do.”

B
uddy Mayfair, better known as Ribbet, was the only fifth grader anyone knew who ran a college for frogs.

“It’s frog-catching season,” he announced, hopping into the Brown Detective Agency.

During frog-hunting season, Ribbet warmed up by hopping a lot.

“The science club is hunting frogs at South Park at two o’clock today,” he said. “Stinky Redmond and Alma Higgens aren’t coming. Want to take their places?”

Encyclopedia and Sally didn’t have to be asked twice. They had never been on a frog hunt.

“I’m glad Stinky and Alma aren’t coming,” Sally said. “They’re always a problem.”

A high steel fence surrounded the campgrounds at
South Park. Standing by one of the two gates was a park ranger. Beside him were the other campers and Mr. Sands, the science teacher. Mr. Sands was in charge of the outing.

He welcomed the detectives, who were the last children to arrive. “We’ll be the only group in the campgrounds today. Come inside.”

The ranger locked the gate behind them. He climbed into a small pickup truck and drove off.

“There are two gates, and both are locked when everyone is inside the campgrounds,” Ribbet said. “It’s for the campers’ safety. Mr. Sands has a key—”

He broke off. A rumbling had grown into a full roar. A huge tractor was coming straight toward the gate.

The driver unlocked the gate, drove in, and then locked the gate behind him.

“I’m cutting a firebreak,” he told the children. “Sorry about the noise the disks make.”

Behind the tractor was a row of twelve steel cutting disks. At both ends of the row were wheels with thick tires. The wheels could be lowered, thus lifting the disks off the ground when not in use.

With a friendly wave to the children, he slowly drove on. The disks churned roots, shrubs, and stumps, leaving a fireproof trail.

Unlocking the far gate, he drove through and locked it again.

“Frogs are waiting,” Mr. Sands called when the campers had pitched their tents and spread their bedrolls. “Let’s head to the pond.”

The boys and girls hurried through the gate, which Mr. Sands locked behind them.

“You can’t be too careful,” Ribbet said. “Lots of things have been stolen from the park lately.”

The pond lay beyond a woods out of sight of the campgrounds. During the walk, Ribbet fine-tuned himself with hops every few steps.

“I hope the hunting is good,” he said. “I need a big enrollment.”

For the past two years Ribbet had trained frogs for others at his frog college. His students always did well at frog-jumping contests.

Not only did Ribbet teach his student frogs quick takeoffs and how to race. They got a room and all the flies they could eat.

Other services included massages and calisthenic drills, plus time off to swim in the family birdbath.

All for fifteen cents a day.

“I started the college two years ago after my bullfrog, General Grant, set a state record,” Ribbet said. “The General covered seventeen feet two inches in the three jumps. I retired him. He’s now my poster boy.”

“How’s business this year?” Encyclopedia inquired.

“Only fair,” Ribbet answered. “Right now I’m training frogs for two grown-ups and three kids.”

The day’s hunting didn’t go well. Although the
ribbet, ribbet
of frogs filled the air, the only creatures found were tadpoles.

“We’ll do better tonight,” Encyclopedia said.

Back at the campgrounds the children perked up by playing among the tracks in the firebreak. Led by Ribbet, they leapfrogged from one tire track to another. He was having so much fun he ran to get his camera from his tent.

The fun ended when Ribbet discovered that his camera had been stolen.

“I should have taken it with me to the pond,” he groaned. “But I was afraid of dropping it in the drink.”

“The thief can’t be one of us,” Sally insisted. “The whole group went to the pond together and came back together.”

Mr. Sands was upset by the theft. He fetched the ranger.

The ranger examined the locks on both gates. They were unbroken.

“Only you and me and Hal, the tractor driver, have a key to the gates,” the ranger said to Mr. Sands. “Hal said he never returned to the campgrounds after cutting the firebreak. I stayed in my office after I left you.”

The ranger chuckled. “I don’t think it was a thief at all,” he said. “Probably it was a caterpillar. Everyone knows what shutterbugs they are. The camera will turn up.”

“Only a fool of a thief would risk climbing over the fence,” Mr. Sands mused.

“The thief didn’t have to,” said Encyclopedia.

Mr. Sands stared at Encyclopedia, startled. “Do you know who stole the camera?”

“Why, yes,” said the detective, “though he had me stumped for a time.”

O
n Wednesday Encyclopedia and Sally went with Sol Calvin to the Best Buy Toy Company factory for the yearly auction. Sol’s sister Birdie worked there.

She tested toys, though she didn’t know it.

Birdie was four years old.

The toy factory was in a large red brick building. Sol led the detectives to a room in which there were five small children aged three to four, two teachers, and lots of toys. One of the teachers was reading a book of fairy tales to the children.

“Golly,” Sally said. “It looks like a classroom in a nursery school.”

“It is,” Sol said. “The little kids report for classes here three days a week. They listen to stories, finger paint, dress up in costumes, and eat snacks. The most important period
is free time. That’s when they play with the toys the company makes.”