Free Muskie Attack (An Up North Adventure) by G.M. Moore Page A

and get up here,” she yelled down the road. “Come on, you big baby. Right here is the solution to your problem.”
    “I think,” she whispered to Griffy.
    With Pike begrudgingly back in the cart, Gil turned down the sandy road that curved through the woods to the neat but worn home of T. Hanover.
    “Trust me, Pike. You are going to want to see this,” Gil said as she struggled to dodge the branches and overgrowth that assaulted the cart.
    “Whatever,” he replied.
    As the kids came barreling to the end of the road, they were greeted by a man standing—much as Pike had been a few minutes earlier—in the middle of it with his hands on his hips. Behind him stood a tan clapboard cabin, a garage, and two smaller outbuildings. In front of him sat a large German shepherd.
    “What are you kids doing down here?” he demanded in a suspicious tone. “Turn right around now. You have no business here.”
    Gil gulped. “Mr. Hanover, I’m Gil McKendrick,” she stammered. “My dad and I delivered groceries to you a while back.” She got no reply or hint of recognition from Mr. Hanover. “Um, milk, eggs, beer. You were sick?” Still no recognition. “OK, well, we are passing out these fliers.” She handed him one, carefully avoiding the dog.
    He glanced at it and handed it back.
    “Young lady, don’t do much swimmin’ these days. Don’t plan to start again anytime soon.”
    Pike and Griffy sat speechless in the cart staring up at the odd-looking man. Griffy had never seen anyone quite so old before. Only a few wisps of white hair covered his head. He wore eyeglasses as thick as Coke bottle glass. The huge lenses magnified his eyes to about three times their normal size. Brown age spots covered his arms and hands. His white T-shirt was clean, pressed, and neatly tucked into a pair of khaki work pants. A red and blue striped necktie served as his belt.
    “Right,” Gil answered. “We, um. Well, um. We …”
    Keeping his eyes warily on Mr. Hanover and the dog, Pike leaned over to Gil. “Let’s just get out of here, Gil. Come on.”
    Gil shot Pike an annoyed look and regained her composure. “No,” she said firmly and turned her attention back to Mr. Hanover.
    “Mr. Hanover, we are interested in purchasing some fishing equipment. My father bought some lures from you, remember? My brother and Griffy here want to catch this muskie.” She shook the flier at him. “But they don’t have the right gear to do it.”
    Mr. Hanover eyed the boys carefully. “Got one of those newfangled ultralight poles, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” Pike nodded. “It’s not worth a thing, except for pan fish.”
    “Not worth a thing period,” Mr. Hanover replied. “What about you, young man?” He nodded toward Griffy.
    Griffy winced. “Worse. A hand-me-down ultralight.”
    Mr. Hanover laughed. “That is worse. Yes, siree.” His demeanor softened, but he eyed them up and down just the same. “All righty. I think I can help you youngsters out.” He motioned toward the garage. “Come on. And don’t mind Sadie here,” he instructed patting the German shepherd on the head. “She’s harmless unless I yell sic.”
    Getting out of the cart, the kids followed Mr. Hanover and Sadie toward the garage. Mr. Hanover unlocked the door and stepped, with Sadie, into the darkness. A musty smell wafted out behind them.
    Pike poked his head through the doorway and quickly pulled back. “I’m not going in there,” he whispered. “It stinks, and I can’t see a thing.”
    “Quit being difficult and come on,” Gil ordered as she stepped into the garage and pulled a cowering Griffy in with her.
    The three stayed huddled together in the darkness by the door. Griffy could hear Mr. Hanover shuffling around and mumbling to himself.
    “Found one!” he finally called out, and a lightbulb blinked on.
    The dim light revealed a makeshift warehouse. Aisles of shelves stretched the length and width of the garage. A series of bare lightbulbs