Thumb and the Bad Guys Read Free Page B

the water except for one time when a family of beavers
decided that our pond would make a good home. We never did figure out how those
beavers knew that if they climbed halfway up a mountain they’d find a place to live.
Maybe beavers can smell fresh water. Or maybe there were beavers wandering over all
our mountains, searching for places to settle.
    Last year, Mayor Semanov trapped five beavers and put them in his
fishing boat and dropped them off at a cove up the coast. A month later we had
beavers again. I think it was the same ones. Our mayor trapped them a second time
and dropped them at an island down the coast. This time they didn’t come back.
    The trail behind the school didn’t stop at the pond. It continued
higher still, climbing over rocks and around big boulders. It stopped at a hump on
the side of Linda Evers Mountain where you could stand and see the entire ocean, no
mountains in the way. The flat hump was called Black Bear Hump because a black bear
was once spotted there. I think he liked the view.
    Sometimes Dad and I climbed the trail to Black Bear Hump at sunset.
There’s an old gnarled cedar and we’d sit with our backs against it and watch the
orange sun seem to settle right into the ocean.
    I’ve stood at Black Bear Hump and seen fishing boats and oil tankers
and cruise ships glide down the coast from Alaska, and every time I saw a cruise
ship I knew that hundreds of eyes were probably staring at me. I knew that people on
those ships couldn’t tell there was a small village tucked into a bay behind the
mountains, unless they saw smoke on a clear winter morning.
    Susan and I slipped out of the fire truck. We could see Kirk McKenna’s
shadow as he followed the beam of his flashlight behind the large boulder that masked
the trail up to our pond. We raced across the sand to the bottom of the trail. We
listened for a moment and then – without even discussing what we should do – we both
started to climb.
    We didn’t have to worry about making noise. We mostly stepped over
large flat granite rocks that twisted around boulders. Susan and I knew every turn.
Kirk McKenna’s constant humming let us know that he was still going up and not
listening for somebody following him.
    â€œWhat if he turns and starts coming back down?” whispered Susan.
    â€œWe’ll just slip off the trail,” I said with more confidence than I
actually felt.
    â€œBut what if he really is a bad guy and he discovers that we’re spying
on him?”
    â€œKind of exciting, isn’t it?” I asked with a grin.
    I wasn’t sure if she saw my grin since it was dark.
    â€œI’d feel better if we let him have a little more lead,” said
Susan.
    We waited. I could see the flashlight beam vanish as Kirk McKenna
reached the pond. We couldn’t hear him humming any more so we just stood there
staring at the dark, quiet mountain above us.
    â€œYou didn’t think we’d see anything on our stakeout, did you?” I
asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou just thought it might be fun to pretend we were spies,
right?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œScared?”
    â€œSure. When we get close to the top he might be right in front of us,
waiting. We don’t know where he is right now.”
    We climbed more slowly, stopping to listen after every few steps.
    As we sneaked closer, I could hear the mountain stream rushing down to
our pond and flowing out again to the ocean below. The sound of water was so loud
that I was sure Kirk McKenna couldn’t possibly hear us. I was just as sure we
couldn’t hear him, either, even if he was close.
    Susan and I reached the last big boulder before the plateau. We knew
that the pond was on the other side. I pressed my back against the cold granite and
slowly peeked around the corner. I couldn’t see any flashlight beam and couldn’t see
any shadows that moved. I