Macdonald Hall #6: Lights, Camera, Disaster!

Is It Dangerous?

Goose Golden slumped down on a rock and passed a grubby hand over his scratched face. "I'm not going to make it!" he rasped hoarsely. "You go on without me! Tell J.J. I tried!"

Mr. Sturgeon uncorked a canteen and handed it to his companion. "Enough melodrama. You are here at your own insistence, over my protest, and you will take your medicine like a man."

Golden shivered. His light linen sports clothes were no match for the damp chill of the north woods. "It's your fault! You said this was a park! A park is swings, a few trees, grass, benches, maybe a baseball diamond. This is the Amazon rain forest!'

"It's the wilderness survival trip," the Headmaster explained. "We prefer not to have it in the grand ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria."

He regarded the manager in some amusement. What had formerly been a white, stylish, California-tailored outfit was now good only for the ragpicker. Mud, grass stains, and the juice of countless rotted berries dotted the white linen everywhere. Golden had spent more time flat on his face than on his feet, and he looked it.

"Come along, Golden. We're losing time here. Those reporters can't be far behind us."

The manager wasn't budging. "What a place to bring a bunch of kids! What have you got against Disneyland? This is the hairy armpit of the universe! It's freezing, it's dangerous, it's filthy, it stinks, and it's full of animals!" There was a scream in the distance. "See? Now, what makes a sound like that? I don't know, but I sure wouldn't invite it up to the house for a barbecue!"

Mr. Sturgeon frowned. He had noticed the sounds as well, and had never heard anything quite like it in the woods before. He grabbed Golden and hauled him to his feet. Suddenly he had an urgent desire to see his boys safe and sound.

The screams were getting louder. Elmer sat on a log in the middle of camp, staring at the surrounding woods, his face gray. The other campers were clustered around the tents, murmuring nervously among themselves.

"Gee," said Pete. "Elmer looks pretty scared. It must be something real nasty."

"Nonsense," said the coach. "He's just bewildered because he doesn't know what it is. " He looked around at the frightened faces of his students. "This has gone far enough. Drimsdale, come over here." Elmer presented himself. "What's going on? Do you have any idea what's making that noise?"

Elmer stared at him. "Sir, do we have any weapons?"

Flynn gawked. Just our Swiss army knives. Why?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a high-powered tranquilizer rifle."

"All right, Drimsdale," ordered Flynn. "Speak up. What's out there?"

Elmer swallowed hard. "Panthera carnivora. The spotted tundra leopard."

"What is it?" asked Boots anxiously.

"Well, " said Elmer thoughtfully, "it's six feet long, exclusive of its three-foot tail, with a powerful set of jaws that apply pressure equivalent to a two-ton hydraulic press. The teeth are razor-sharp and elongated for flesh ripping. Its habitat is usually the northern tundra, and it feeds primarily upon sea lions, walruses, caribou, polar bears, musk oxen, beached whales, unspotted tundra leopards and, occasionally, man. "

"Is it dangerous?" asked Pete.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" cried Wilbur. "Does it sound harmless?"

An echoing shriek from the woods was his answer.

"But this isn't the tundra," protested Larry.

"That's what had me confused at first," was Elmer's reply. "But now that I'm convinced we're dealing with an actual panthera carnivora, we can only conclude that the food supply ran low in northern latitudes, and it's come south — " he shuddered, " — to feed."