Dinosaur Hideout

  Contents

  Title Page

  Book & Copyright Information

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Bibliography

  Vocabulary/Descriptions

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  © Judith Silverthorne, 2003.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Edited by Joanne Gerber

  Cover and text illustrations by Aries Cheung

  Cover and book design by Duncan Campbell

  National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Silverthorne, Judith, 1953-

  Dinosaur hideout / Judith Silverthorne.

  ISBN 1-55050-226-3

  I. Title.

  ps8587.i2763d56 2003 jc813'.54 c2003-910494-x

  pz7.s54di 2003

  Available from:

  Coteau Books

  2517 Victoria Avenue, Regina Saskatchwan Canada S4P0T2

  www.coteaubooks.com

  The publisher gratefully acknowledges the financial assistance of the Saskatchewan Arts Board, the Canada Council for the Arts, including the Millennium Arts Fund, the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), and the City of Regina Arts Commission, for its publishing program.

  This book is dedicated to my son, Aaron,

  who shared his curiosity and his dinosaur books,

  and to my parents, Stan and Elaine Iles,

  and to my nieces “down-under” –

  Tayla, Zara, & Shania

  Chapter One

  The darkness of early morning enveloped Daniel as he slipped out the back door of the two-storey house. From the shadows of the snowy lane, he glanced back warily at his mother framed in the yellow glow of the kitchen window. He hoped she wouldn’t notice him leaving. He didn’t want to explain where he was headed.

  At the moment, she had her back to the window and was sweeping her shoulder-length blonde hair into an elastic to keep it out of the way while she cleaned the kitchen. Daniel could see her determined face reflected in the mirror. She had the same dark brown eyes as him, but she was short and a little on the stocky side, while he looked more like his father – tall and slender.

  Beyond his mom, he could see his plump six-month-old baby sister, Cheryl, in her high chair, playing with her pablum. Her blue eyes were probably sparkling with delight as she mushed it into the soft curls of her blonde hair. She loved to make a mess. As she plonked her spoon onto the floor, Mom bent to retrieve it. Daniel hurried past the large window. Mom would be kept busy preparing Cheryl for the babysitter before she left for her part-time nursing job in Climax, their nearest town. Mom had hoped to quit working after she had Cheryl, but they needed the money, so she still took as many hours as she could.

  Daniel yanked his toque down on his head and quickened his pace. He’d have to hurry to get back home in time to do his morning chores before the school bus arrived, but he didn’t care. He just had to check out his latest discovery. And that meant going to his special hideout. He might not have another chance till the weekend.

  Shoving his mittened hands into his pockets, he plunged ahead. His boots squeaked and crunched across the snow-encrusted farmyard. He headed past the corrals where several horses milled about. Their snorts of recognition created puffs of fog in the brisk air. Gypsy whinnied at him.

  Daniel walked over to his grey pinto mare and patted her soft warm neck. Gypsy nuzzled his toque and nibbled at his ear, messing his already unruly mass of dark brown hair even further. He slipped her a small carrot from his pocket, and gave her one more neck scratch before continuing on towards the pasture. Gypsy followed for a few steps, her hoofs crunching on the frozen ground, but Daniel shook his head.

  “Not now, girl,” he said, straightening his hat. Gypsy tossed her head with a snort and went back to the trough of grain.

  To the east streaks of reddish gold emerged just over the horizon, casting the barn and granaries in shadowy outlines. Daniel passed a dark line of spruce and elm trees that encircled the buildings. Then he reached the open rolling landscape of the snow-covered pasture, all greyish white and billowy like endless clouds hanging low in the drab sky.

  For all of his eleven years, Daniel had lived on the family farm, like his father, his grandparents, and great-grandparents before him. In the late 1800s, his great-grandfather Ezekiel Bringham had staked out the usual 160-acre quarter-section homestead, which lay in southwest Saskatchewan.

  Daniel thought about the stories he’d heard, sitting on his grandfather’s lap. How the family had managed to expand the farm by buying more land, but over the years it had dwindled again during the bad droughts, and other bouts of serious crop failure and low cattle prices. All that was left of the Bringham farm now was the home quarter with the house and outbuildings on it, one quarter for crops, and the quarter of pasture land that Daniel walked across. Not much for a prairie mixed-farm operation.

  Tugging his toque farther down over his ears, he watched his breath emerge in the frosty air. Then he caught sight of his dog. He whistled.

  “Dactyl, here boy.”

  A tail-wagging, slobbering golden retriever mutt greeted him from an adjacent bluff of trees. Daniel balanced himself on a hard ridge of snow as he murmured and patted his excited pet.

  Dactyl had been given to him two years before by his parents, for his ninth birthday. He’d named the pup after one of his favourite Cretaceous period dinosaurs, because he’d dashed about and dive-bombed on his prey as if he were airborne like the flying reptile, the pterodactyl. The name was quickly shortened to Dactyl.

  “All right, boy. All right.” He grabbed the dog’s collar and settled him back on the ground. He gave him one last scratch behind the ear, and then said, “We’ve got to hurry. Come on.”

  They trudged across the snow-covered ground, winding through several gullies and over gentle slopes. Dactyl occasionally disappeared around scrubby bush or over a dip, sniffing in search of an elusive rabbit. A slight breeze made the air brisk and tingly on Daniel’s cheeks. In the distance, he heard the drone of a snowmobile. It was probably Doug Lindstrom, his best friend’s dad, checking on his cattle.

  As they walked, Daniel grabbed a stick from the ground and began throwing it for Dactyl to fetch. The dog made quick returns, slobbering and prancing about in front of him. It wasn’t long before Daniel felt himself getting warmer. He loosened the ties at his neck and unzipped his jacket a few inches.

  As the sun crept over the horizon behind him, he rounded the crest of a hill and dipped into a small side gully. He paused. The path snaked downward into a coulee – a deeply etched ravine and ancient riverbed, evidence that the land hadn’t always been dry. Instead of following the steep track, he veered to the left and headed down to a snow-covered tangle of overgrown boughs and fallen logs.

  More than a year earl
ier, he had discovered an abandoned cave lodged between the bases of the two hills. He’d dug the space deep enough for his own use, following a natural incision that had been created by spring runoff over the years. There were a few low bushes growing outside, but he’d hidden the entrance even more by dragging dead trees and branches across it.

  Although it was well camouflaged, he quickly located the opening and began clearing a path through the drift of snow against the barricade. Then he crept under the branches and crawled inside the mouth of his hideout.

  Instantly, he felt the cosy warmth of the shelter and smelled the damp earthy mustiness. Dactyl pushed his way in beside him and shook the snow off his furry coat, before dashing off to explore the interior. Daniel grimaced and brushed the moisture from his face with his mitts.

  Then, careful to keep his head down, he crawled across the dirt floor. The cave was low around the edges, but once he reached the centre, he stood up easily. Next, he cleared the snow away from a football-sized opening overhead that let the emerging daylight filter in.

  While Dactyl sniffed along the edges of the cavern, Daniel quickly scanned his collection of treasures. A bird’s nest, a couple of deer antlers, several arrowheads, a rattlesnake skin, and some rusted coffee tins stuffed with special stones lined the floor along one side. Some low rock formations stood beside them, next to an old rolled-up sleeping bag.

  He also had a collection of sticks and twine, and a pile of animal bones that he’d gathered from the pasture. Most of the things, he’d found in little digging and scavenging expeditions over the last two summers. He’d also tucked into a crevice a secret stash of emergency chocolate bars, some beef jerky, and a tattered paperback on dinosaurs that he used for reference. Right next to that, he’d placed his excavation tools: a small hammer, a chisel, a compass, and a fine paintbrush he used for brushing dirt from specimens.

  He made his way over to a tree stump which he’d dragged into the middle of the cave. Through the opening above him, he could see that the sky was now frosty and bright with early morning light. He plunked himself down on the cold surface of the stump and reached for a plastic ice cream pail that housed his latest rock finds. Quickly, he dumped the contents onto the ground and began searching.

  He chose a small rough stone and rubbed sand off one side with his mitts. Darn, that wasn’t what he was looking for! He set it back down again and drew another and another, sifting through the pile on the ground. He was sure there had to be a special rock in his collection. He’d just read a description in one of his books on dinosaurs at home the night before, and something had clicked in his brain. He just had to find it!

  Suddenly, he noticed a chunk of limestone near the bottom of the pile. He carefully wiped the oddly shaped stone free of dirt.

  “Hey, there’s some fossil prints on this one!” He spoke to Dactyl, but the dog ignored him and continued sniffing in a remote corner.

  Could the fossil imprint in this rock be what he thought it was? Daniel brushed off more earth, feeling the excitement rise inside him. Handling it gently, he followed the indentations with his finger. He looked closer, and his eyes widened. Yes, this was definitely different from the others! It had criss-cross markings on it. He set the stone back on the ground carefully, threw off his mitts, then grabbed for his dinosaur book. He thumbed through the pages so fast that he almost ripped them.

  All at once he sprang up and waved the rock at Dactyl.

  “I knew it,” he said. “There were dinosaurs living here! This is part of a receptaculites!”

  He held the stone closer towards the light streaming through the opening, turning it over and over, studying it from all angles. The criss-cross grooves looked just like the face of a ripe sunflower, for which the receptaculites were named. Now he had proof for the kids at school, who thought he was out to lunch with all his talk about dinosaurs on his farm. He knew that originally this particular spongelike organism must have come from the north Cambrian Shield. It would have been carried by glaciers and dumped in the south of the province. And this meant there had been dinosaur activity in his area – who knew what else was lying in wait for him to discover?

  “Wow.” He cupped the stone in his hands and stared down at it. His whole body tingled. He closed his eyes and imagined.

  ~

  The bright blue of the sky was reflected in the shallow clear sea at his feet. As he touched the warm, sunlit water with his fingers, he peered down at the brightly coloured coral polyps and the golden-topped stromatolites formed on the bottom below. Crinoids with their orange fernlike flowers swayed. Just beyond them a huge dark red receptaculites bobbed in the soft current.

  Then everything changed. The water became deeper and darker. He could just make out the faint outlines of sharks and rays swimming through the long clumps of seagrass. They made way for a large mosasaur that appeared from out of the depths. Rows of sharp teeth protruded ominously from its huge mouth.

  Suddenly, an unexpected noise snapped Daniel back to the present. Dactyl’s ears perked up, and at the same time Daniel heard the loud crunch of snow outside. A worn pair of boots and a rifle pointed into the doorway. He instinctively jumped to the side as Dactyl barked and rushed towards the entrance. A huge snarling hound met Dactyl head-on.

  Startled, Daniel lunged for his dog’s collar to haul him back from the attack. His heart pounded as his mind raced. How could he defend Dactyl and himself? Who was invading his hideout? Why? And what were they going to do with the gun?

  “Who’s in there?” demanded a gruff voice.

  “I am! Don’t shoot!” Daniel yelled back over the dogs’ snarling. “I’m coming out. Call off your dog.”

  “Bear! Here, boy!” Someone yanked the brute out of the opening. “Heel.”

  Bear obeyed the stern voice of his master. But in a flash, Dactyl hurtled out after him, nipping at his heels. Daniel darted out and grasped Dactyl’s collar firmly. He came face to face with a monstrous man dressed in a ragged parka. White hair bristled from under a worn toque, and he had a prickly beard. With gnarled fingers he clutched a rifle in one hand, while he gripped his straining dog in the other.

  “What are you doing in there?” he demanded, coughing.

  “Th-th-this is my special place,” said Daniel, holding onto Dactyl who struggled for another go at the intruding dog. Daniel shuffled his feet uneasily in the snow, still clutching the stone.

  “I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he said in a voice braver than he felt. This man had no right to be questioning him, but he wasn’t going to argue with someone holding a rifle.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he snapped. “You’re Ed Bringham’s son aren’t you?”

  Daniel stared, not saying a word.

  “I’ve seen you around here,” sputtered the old man, going into a coughing fit.

  Daniel stared at the enormous figure hacking into a handkerchief. This must be the old hermit, Pederson, who lived nearby, on the next quarter to the south. Daniel had never seen him up close, but he’d heard stories about him from the kids at school. The guy was weird. Really wierd.

  Once the old guy quit coughing, Daniel stood firm, but felt his legs quivering. What if the stories were true and Pederson was dangerous? Daniel glared as best he could, and with a slight tremble in his voice, declared, “Well, I have a right to be here. I am on my own property.”

  All at once, Dactyl yanked free of his hold and yipped in circles around Pederson and his immense mutt. Bear growled low in his throat, but stayed at his master’s side.

  “Well, see that’s where you stay,” rasped the old man as he wiped his mouth and returned his handkerchief to his pocket.

  Daniel dropped his eyes and found himself nervously fingering the rock in his left hand. Shivers ran up and down his spine.

  “What’s that?” asked Pederson.

  “Just an old rock I found.”

  “Let’s have a look.” Pederson held out his arthritic hand.

  Daniel hesitated, and then relu
ctantly handed over the rock. As Pederson took it, Daniel was sure he saw a sparkle of interest in the old man’s eyes.

  “A receptaculites. Lived here ’bout fourteen billion years ago.”

  “I knew it,” Daniel blurted out. “I bet there were duckbills around here, too. Maybe even a whole Edmontosaurus with –” Abruptly, he quit talking, realizing he’d said too much.

  The old man’s face lit up for a few moments, and he seemed about to say something. But then his expression changed to a frozen glare. Daniel shuffled uneasily. Dactyl wiggled at his side, but stayed put. Pederson began coughing again, then spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with his hand.

  “Where did you find it?” he demanded.

  “Ah.... Well. Just around. You know. Out walking.” Daniel avoided looking into Pederson’s piercing eyes.

  “Better not have been on my property.”

  Daniel stood defiantly. “No. I found it just a little ways over there.” He pointed towards some hills to his left beyond his hideout.

  Pederson’s eyes widened. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, how do you know what a receptaculites is? Suppose you learned that in school?” Pederson leaned in closer.

  Daniel stood his ground. “No. Saw it in a book.” He could hear the rasping in the old man’s throat. “How do you know what it is?

  “Saw it in a book.”

  They eyed one another for a few moments. Then Daniel extended his arm and opened his hand, glaring at Pederson. As the old man placed the fossil in his palm, his expression went blank and steely. Daniel stiffened, took a sharp breath, and slipped the rock into his pocket. Dactyl went rigid beside him, ready to charge.

  All at once, Pederson doubled over with a fierce coughing fit, horrifying Daniel. He took a step towards the old man, about to touch his arm, but Pederson shrugged him off. Bear growled and Dactyl gave a sharp bark, but Daniel held his dog firm.

  As his coughing subsided, Pederson loomed over Daniel and with a harsh look said, “See you keep away from my place – or you’ll wish you had.”