The Man with the Red Bag Read Online Free PDF Page B

want to go in.
    I looked along Main Street. No cowboys in sight. No Indians in war bonnets or feathers. No covered wagons. Just traffic, plenty of it. SUVs and trucks, and even a Hummer. There were women in shorts and skimpy tops; young guys with skateboards; a teenager with dyed blond hair, a nose ring, and a USC sweatshirt. I figured Jackson wasn’t the way it used to be. Jim Bridger would never have recognized it.
    And then…and then I saw something that gave me such a great idea my head almost burst open. Sometimes good ideas just jump into my brain.
    â€œNot the emporium,” I said. “I want to go to that bookstore farther along.”
    â€œFor what? Another one of that author’s mystery books?”
    â€œNot this time. Come on.”
    The Step Inside Bookshop had paperbacks for sale in bins on the sidewalk. A black cat slept in the window. There was a poster for a new Harry Potter novel.
    We stepped inside and a bell rang. Immediately there was that great bookstore smell. I’m not sure ifreading has a smell, but that’s what I always think of when I’m around books. It’s the smell of secrets hidden, and words and thoughts. And adventures.
    â€œI could stay in here all day,” I muttered.
    â€œWe only have a half hour left, so hurry up. I still want to go to that emporium.”
    It was the kind of bookstore I love, where nobody bothers you. You can just browse.
    I walked along the aisles, not allowing myself to stop and look till I came to the travel section. My fingers trailed along the spines. What if the Step Inside didn’t have what I wanted? But, great! There it was! An English-Greek, Greek-English dictionary.
    â€œEureka!” I said, which might even be a Greek word, for all I know. It means “I’ve got it!”
    Geneva beamed, I think admiringly. “Now I see what you’re planning,” she said. “You’re going to say something to him in Greek and see if he answers.”
    I nodded. “Right.”
    The dictionary cost $12.95, which was a lot for a book I didn’t actually intend to read. Expensive, but worth it.
    Outside again, I checked down the street. Stavroswas sitting upright in a chair on the wooden porch, all by himself, the bag on his knees.
    Grandma and some of the other tour members plus two old fellows in overalls and cowboy hats were clustered around a big table, drinking what—from where I stood—looked like iced tea. I realized I was superthirsty.
    I opened the bookstore bag and took out the dictionary.
    â€œDon’t look at it now,” Geneva said in an impatient voice. “We won’t have time to stop at the emporium.”
    â€œSo?” I stopped and opened it. “Let’s talk to Mr. Stavros,” I said. “Let’s find out if that Greek man understands Greek.”

CHAPTER 5
    â€œH urry!” Geneva urged. “If we’re going to see anything in the emporium, we have to bounce!”
    â€œYou go.” I went back to thumbing through the dictionary. I didn’t even watch her huff away.
    The beginning of the dictionary was English-Greek. What would I say to him? I’d say, “Have a nice day.” That was ordinary. No. I needed something he would have to answer. How about…? I flipped through the pages, which were like tissue paper. The kind where you have to lick your fingers if the school librarian isn’t watching. The print wassmall. I’d look for the word “what.”
    WHAT …t?
    Oh, no! I rapidly looked down the page. All the Greek words were spelled with funny characters that didn’t even look like letters. Here was “you”: es?.
    How on earth was I supposed to pronounce that? I saw a low wall outside a pharmacy and I sat on it and finger-licked all the way through the English-Greek.
    Surely somewhere there would be a pronunciation guide. Phonetic. What use was it if there wasn’t a single word that I could