Free Get Smart 9 - Max Smart and the Ghastly Ghost Affair by William Johnston

night,” he said. “Then, after dark, we can come back and look for the Coolidge-head penny. Any suggestions on where we could hide?”
    “Me and Madame DuBarry can just disappear,” the old prospector said.
    “For the time being, let’s stick together,” Max said. “Seeing is believing, you know. If I couldn’t see you, I’d probably stop believing in ghosts. And that would be unfortunate because we need every pair of eyes we can muster to look for that Coolidge-head penny.”
    “We better not stay in town, Max,” 99 said. “Before long, the assassins will probably find out that we’re not still in that abandoned mine. And they’ll start looking for us. They’ll begin, I imagine, by searching all the buildings in town.”
    “You’re right,” Max replied. “We’ll have to get out of the city.” He turned to the old prospector. “Where is the nearest suburb?” he asked.
    “Come again?”
    “Where is ‘yonder’?” Max translated.
    “Oh. Well, yonder is up in them mountains.”
    “Good,” Max decided. “We’ll hide in the mountains until after dark.” He frowned. “We won’t get lost in the mountains, will we?” he asked the prospector.
    The old man chuckled. “Me and Madame DuBarry know them mountains like we know the inside of a gnat’s ear,” he said.
    “Not at all—right?”
    “That about sums it up,” the old prospector nodded. “But, you can’t get lost on a mountain. All you got to do is keep going downhill and you’re bound to get to the bottom sooner or later.”
    “I wonder why people who get lost on mountains never think of that?” Max mused.
    “They’re not deep thinkers,” the old prospector said. “Tell you the truth, I never wouldn’ve thought of it, either. It was Madame DuBarry that give me the idea.”
    “Animal instinct,” Max guessed. He looked toward the peak of the nearest mountain. “We better get started,” he said.
    Max, 99, the old prospector and the mule left town. They soon reached the foot of the hills, then began the climb up the mountain. The incline was fairly steep and they proceeded slowly. By evening they were approximately halfway to the top. Max decided to stop.
    “We’ll make camp here,” he announced. “One of us will build a fire and the rest of us will fan out and look for game.”
    “Max, if we build a fire, the assassins will see it and know we’re up here.”
    “That’s a good point, 99. No fire. Let’s just fan out and look for game. We’ll have to eat it raw. It won’t be pleasant. But if we keep in mind the fact that the free world is depending on our survival, I think we’ll be able to do it.”
    “The free world can go take a flying jump at a tulip bulb,” the old prospector said. “You’re not going to get me to eat any raw game! I’d die first!”
    “You’re already dead,” Max pointed out.
    “It’s the spirit that counts,” the old prospector said. “I wouldn’t eat no raw game when I was alive, either.” He pointed to the pack on the mule’s back. “What do you think’s in there?” he said. “I always toted my own goodies. Now that I’m a ghost, I don’t eat no more. But, if you two are hungry . . .”
    Max looked at the pack warily. “Let’s see what you have.” he said.
    The old prospector opened up the pack. “Well . . . let’s see . . .” he said, looking inside. “We’ve got some les pattes de crabe vinaigrette, and some filets de triute vauclusienne, and some fonds d’artichauts, and some caneton froid à la Montmorency, and some carre d’agneau roti.” He faced back to Max. “ ’Course, none of it’s fresh—it’s all canned,” he said apologetically.
    Max and 99 stared into the pack, flabbergasted.
    “He’s right! It’s all there!” Max said. He turned to the old prospector. “That’s fantastic!” he said. “How do you do it?”
    “It’s not my doing,” the old man replied. “It’s Madame DuBarry’s.”
    “Then how does he do it?”
    “Well . . .