Free Mad Scientists' Club by Bertrand R. Brinley, Charles Geer Page A

the cannon to adjust the slings on Zeke's hoisting crane. We wheeled the stanchion right over the cannon until we could slip the sling of the front pulley under the exposed end of the cement plug. Then, as Zeke strained on the block-and-tackle, we eased the stanchion forward with each pull, keeping the tension on the front pulley adjusted so the plug could ride free. It wasn't long before we could cinch up the rear sling under the plug, and then we practically walked it the rest of the way out of the barrel.
    Zeke Boniface trudged up and stuck his head into the mouth of the cannon "Watch out!" cried Henry. "That barrel's hot enough to fry you."
    We kicked out the bonfire and raked dirt over the embers. Jeff ran up with the hose from the toolshed, and we sprayed water on the barrel until we figured it was cool enough to take a look inside.
    Jeff handed Homer a flashlight. "We'll boost you up through the mouth, Homer. You snake inside and see what you find in the breech."
    "I wish Dinky was here," said Homer. "This is his type of work."
    "You scared?" asked Mortimer.
    "How do I know what's in there?" Homer said. "I might run into an old body or something."
    "You'll scare him more than he'll scare you, with that skinny frame of yours!" said Mortimer, as he grabbed Homer around the legs.

    We all helped stuff Homer into the cannon, and he wriggled out of sight down the black bore. This was a fifteen-inch Rodman, so there was plenty of room for Homer. He could almost crawl on his hands and knees. We could hear him scraping his way along the barrel, and his voice boomed out with a hollow, echoing sound whenever he shouted something back to us. When he got all the way back to the breech he shouted like a maniac.
    "I got the bag! But pull me out before I suffocate. It's hot as blazes in here!"
    The sound of his voice boomed all the way down the valley, and we could hear it echo back from the hills across Strawberry Lake. Jeff and Mortimer pulled on the rope we had tied to one of Homer's feet and helped him shinny backward out of the bore. He was dirty and sweaty, but he was clutching the handle of a mildewed leather satchel that looked as if it was about to fall apart.
    "Was there anything else back there?" asked Henry.
    "Yes!" said Homer, rubbing his eyes and spitting through his teeth. "About a dozen old squirrels' nests and two thousand spiders."
    We tried to open the leather satchel, but it was locked. Henry turned to Zeke Boniface, who was leaning against the barrel of the Rodman, choosing a fresh cigar butt from an assortment he had wrapped in a piece of cloth.
    "You can open this, can't you, Zeke?"
    Zeke looked a little offended, but he shuffled over to where we were squatting around the bag and probed with his fingers through the thick, matted hair over his right ear. From it he drew a sharp, pointed instrument about the size of a hairpin, with a right-angled hook on the end of it. He bent over the satchel and examined the small lock. Then he inserted the hook, and with two deft movements of his fingers the lock snapped open.
    Henry pried the moldy bag open and dumped the contents on the ground. We all stood there goggle-eyed. On the grass at our feet lay about two dozen packages of bank notes and a heap of loose bills.
    "That isn't real money," said Homer. "It's stage money. Look how big it is."
    "It's real money, all right," Henry said quietly. "Bills used to be that size, years ago."
    "Let's count it in a hurry and get out of here," said Jeff.
    We all pitched in and counted the money. It came to a little over $75,000.
    "That's the bank money, all right," said Homer. "That's just what Mr. Willis said was stolen!"
    "What do we do now?" asked Mortimer. "Catch a boat for Brazil?"
    "We've got a lot to do," Henry answered. "Now's when the fun begins." He dove into his huge duffel bag that seemed to contain one of everything on earth, and emerged with another dusty brown satchel that looked very much like the one at our feet. "I