Encyclopedia Brown and Dead Eagles Read Online Free Page A

his hands and knees, searching for fast steppers.
    “Gosh, Thad,” said Encyclopedia. “I didn’t expect to see you till after the big race. I thought you’d be using every minute to get Sis-Boom-Bah in shape.”
    Sis-Boom-Bah was Thad’s wonder worm. The slim, five-inch athlete had fairly coasted to victory in the area trials a week ago.
    Thad bowed his head. “Last Monday Sis-Boom-Bah went to that big mud hole in the sky,” he said sadly. “I stepped on him by mistake.”
    “How awful,” exclaimed Sally.
    Thad dug into his pocket for a quarter.
    “I want to hire you,” he said. “I have to judge a worm today.”
    He explained. With Sis-Boom-Bah dead, a lot of boys and girls had seen the chance to win the state championship.
    To handle the rush of late entries, the Worm Racers’ Club of America had ruled that any club member could clock a worm’s speed. If fast enough, the worm would be allowed to enter the statewide race.
    “I’m the club’s man in Idaville,” said Thad proudly. “So far this week I’ve turned down six worms and okayed one. Today I have to time Hoager Dempsey’s racer Lightfoot Louie.”
    “What is Hoager doing training worms?” asked Sally. “He hates animals.”
    “The owner of the winning worm gets a hundred-dollar savings bond this year,” said Thad. “If I don’t pass Lightfoot Louie, Hoager will get mad. He might even clap me on the ears with my own ankles. So I want you along.”
    Before Encyclopedia could talk his way out of the case, Sally had accepted it. She had never liked Hoager, who was twelve and mean for his age.
    Half an hour later, Thad cleared his throat as he stood in Hoager’s backyard. “We’ve come to time Lightfoot Louie,” he said. “Shall we begin?”
    “You’re the boss, worm man,” replied Hoager.
    He dragged over an outdoor table. On it he placed a clear plastic tube a foot long and an inch wide. One end was closed by a wad of paper.
    “The tube makes a perfect racecourse, don’t you agree?” said Hoager, showing his teeth.
    “Er... y-yes,” stammered Thad, and hastily he explained the rules. There was only one.
    To qualify for the championship race, a worm had to travel five feet at a speed no slower than six hundred hours per mile.
    “Lightfoot Louie can beat that waltzing,” bragged Hoager. He drew the worm from his pocket and slid him in the open end of the tube.
    “Runner ready,” observed Thad, clearing his stopwatch. “On your mark ... get set... go!”
    It wasn’t go. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t anything. Lightfoot Louie didn’t move. He lay there like a wet shoelace.
    “There’s too much sunlight,” said Hoager. “He’s sleepy.”
    Hoager wrapped an old towel around the tube, hiding the racecourse completely. Next he shoved Lightfoot Louie farther into the tube. As soon as the worm disappeared, Hoager shouted, “What a start!”
    “How do I know?” complained Thad. “I can’t see a thing.”
    Hoager fixed Thad with the eye of a shark. “Don’t talk about missing the action, friend,” he warned. “I’ll describe it to you.”
    “S-s-s-sure, H-Hoager,” Thad agreed. “S-sure.”
    Hoager squinted into the tube. “Will you look at that little rascal go!”
    For a few minutes Hoager kept up a running account of the worm’s efforts within the covered tube. Twice he plugged the open end with his thumb. This, he explained, was to keep Lightfoot Louie from falling out while making a turn.
    Eventually, Hoager grew weary of describing Lightfoot Louie’s progress. He fell silent.
    Minute after minute dragged by. Thad could stand it no longer.
    “Where is he now?” he asked.
    “Making his turn at the far end,” Hoager reported. “Talk about smooth... unbelievable!”

    Hoager squinted into the tube. “Will you look at that
little rascal go!”
    “Unbelievable says it all,” grumbled Sally.
    “He’s on the last lap now,” cried Hoager. “Here he comes... Wow! What a finish! Fantastic!”
    He pulled