Frognapped Read Online Free PDF

so I decided that Aunt Tabby would have to wait. “Come on, Sir Horace,” I said. “I’ll show you the way.”
    We set off noisily. Sir Horace made a loud clanking noise as he walked, and every time he kicked his left leg up he kicked up a shower of sand, too. It was clank-clank thud, clank-clank thud , and then clank-clank thud ping . I picked up a small spring that had shot off from somewhere and put it in my pocket. Nothing important fell off Sir Horace so I figured he didn’t need it right then.
    We were heading down the lane when I heard someone calling, “Araminta! Araminta !” It was Wanda, and she was as red as a beet from running.
    â€œTell Aunt Tabby I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, peeved.
    â€œNever mind Aunt Tabby,” she said, puffing. “I want to know what you are doing with Sir Horace. You are up to something and you haven’t told me. That’s not fair .”
    â€œI have been following clues,” I told her. “I am on the trail of Barry’s frogs, unlike you, who seem to have forgotten all about them.”
    â€œI have not ,” said Wanda. “I am looking for them on the beach.”
    I sighed. “You won’t find them there, Wanda. Nurse Watkins has frognapped them.”
    â€œNo she hasn’t. They weren’t in her bag. The only thing you found in the bag was a—”
    â€œStoppit, Wanda. There is no need to remind me. Now look over there.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œThe gate to the mushroom farm. What do you see outside?”
    Wanda squinted. If you ask me she needs glasses. “A bike?”
    â€œNot just any old bike, is it?”
    â€œIsn’t it?”
    â€œIt’s Nurse Watkins’s bike.”
    â€œWell, yes. But she said she was going there. We know that.”
    â€œBut why is she going there, Wanda? What is her motive ?”
    â€œI dunno. Maybe Old Morris has a boil, too.”
    â€œWanda, I told you not to remind me…. Anyway, I’ll tell you why she is there. Because she is in league with old Morris.”
    Wanda gasped. “How do you know?”
    â€œWhen you were snoozing underneath the beach towels I kept a lookout. That is why I am chief detective and you are not. You will see how I know in a minute.”
    We kept on walking—or lurching, in the case of Sir Horace—and soon we got to the gate. “Look at the sign, Wanda,” I said, and I pointed to the five frog exclamation marks. Wanda gasped again.
    Old Morris FitzMaurice, who is a thin, stringy man with a long greasy ponytail, had come into view—and he was still carrying the red bucket.

    â€œWhat is it you wish me to do, Miss Spookie?” Sir Horace rattled. “Shall I cut his head off for you? Boil him in oil? Or merely take him prisoner?”
    â€œOh! Um, no thank you, Sir Horace. Although it is very nice of you to offer. I would just like you to rescue the frogs. I think they are in the bucket.”
    But Old Morris had seen us. “Hey!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”
    He put down the bucket and stomped over. “Tickets go on sale this afternoon,” he growled. “No unaccompanied kids and no scrap metal. You can come back then. Now stop staring at me like a couple of demented goldfish and scram.”
    I nodded and smiled. I was playing for time, which is a ploy that all detectives usewhen they are in a tight spot and the suspect looks threatening. Even though he was thin and stringy, close up he looked quite strong. Then I noticed his right big toe was bandaged and sticking out of his sandal.
    â€œDo you play soccer?” I asked him politely. It is always a good idea to gain your suspect’s trust and lull him into a false sense of security. Then eventually he will end up telling you everything you need to know, right down to why he did it and how sorry he is and what a great detective you are for finding him out.
    â€œAre you