Macdonald Hall #3: Beware the Fish!

An uncommon cure

Good morning, all! The Fish launches Operation Popcan! Beware the Fish!

Sergeant Featherstone noted with some excitement that Wednesday morning's announcement also came at 8:45. When the fish disappeared, he switched off the television set. His mind reeling with ideas and suspicions, he turned on his tape recorder.

"Investigation Fish—Field Report Number Two—Sergeant Harold P. Featherstone, Special Division, reporting," he dictated.

"A pattern is beginning to emerge. There have been Fish broadcasts reported at all hours of the day, but 8:45 A.M. seems to be standard. It is my suspicion that 'the Fish' is a code name for the leader of a terrorist cell which is using public communications to send messages, also possibly in code. This morning 'Operation Popcan' was announced. This could be a major manoeuvre planned by the Fish and his associates. I will have to be extremely alert and watchful.

"Featherstone out."

He switched off the recorder, and responding to a rumble in his stomach, left his room in search of breakfast.

The door of the next room opened slightly and two eyes watched intently as Featherstone walked through the parking lot to the street and across to the diner. Then the tall thin man in room 14 also left the motel and casually headed for the little restaurant.

* * *

"And that's the way I expect you to complete the obstacle course," said Coach Flynn, jumping off the climbing apparatus in the gymnasium. "Any questions?" He sneezed violently.

Bruno elbowed Boots in the ribs. Boots raised his hand.

"Sir, I have a question about the vaulting horse in the far corner. Isn't there too much space between it and the springboard? Could we take a closer look?"

Flynn took Boots and the rest of the class over to the far corner of the gym. Bruno stole away from the group and moved swiftly to the bench where Coach Flynn kept his glass of Muscle-Ade, a high-energy drink. From the pocket of his shorts he took out the eye-dropper bottle of cold remedy that Elmer had given him. Holding the dropper over the coach's glass, he administered exactly six drops, as per instructions. Then he strolled back and merged with the group. Boots's problem had apparently been cleared up.

The coach again sneezed violently. "Oh, this cold!" he groaned. "I've got a beaut!"

"Maybe some Muscle-Ade will help," suggested Bruno hopefully. "People with colds should drink a lot."

"Good idea," agreed Flynn. He jogged over to the bench, picked up the glass and drained it.

Boots shut his eyes.

A strange look came over Flynn's face.

"Funny," he said. "It never tasted like that before." He hiccupped, took three faltering steps and collapsed to the floor, where he began to snore loudly.

Boots opened his eyes and took in the scene with a gasp of horror. "Bruno, we've killed him!"

"He isn't dead," declared Bruno. "He's just asleep. Funny, Elmer didn't mention that he was going to fall asleep."

"What happened?" cried Pete Anderson. "I'd better go get The Fish!"

"No! No Fish!" shouted Bruno. "No Fish!"

"Fish," murmured Flynn. A goofy grin spread over his face and he began to giggle softly, still asleep.

"What'll we do?" asked Rob Adams nervously.

"We'd better take him home to bed," Bruno decided.

"How are we going to get him all the way to Dormitory 2 without anybody noticing?" demanded Boots, slightly hysterical.