The Case of the Most Ancient Bone. John R. Erickson

my new position on Lemonade Smuggling, and I want all the kids to pay close attention. Lemonade Smuggling is wrong, naughty, uncouth, and unsanitary. Dogs should never drink lemonade out of pitchers, and kids should never allow their dogs to do it. Never, not under any circumstances, and especially when customers are coming into the store.

      There. That’s better, don’t you think?

      Anyway, the vehicle turned out to be a white Chevy pickup. As it approached, we finished the Lemonade Song.

      We’ll soon be getting a customer. We’ll give him a wonderful pitch.

      He’ll order a glass and pay us a buck, and then we are going to be rich.

      I think I’ll buy me a baseball bat.

      I’ll buy me a mousetrap to use on the cat.

      We’re happy as hogs and now we know that

      This lemonade business is sure lots of fun.

      Little Alfred stood up, waved toward the pickup, and pointed to his sign. The pickup drove past, then stopped. The driver put it in reverse and backed up.

      Alfred and I traded long glances, and he whispered, “Uh-oh. Should we tell him?”

      I looked deeply into my soul for the answer. It was one of the most difficult moral decisions of my whole career. Suddenly the answer came to me, like a whispered voice from the deep. With innocent looks and slow wags on the tail section, I replied: “I didn’t see a thing, how about you?”

      Alfred gave me a little grin. “I think we won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret, Hankie.”

      Right. Good decision. Great idea. We didn’t know anything about anything, and besides, nothing had happened anyway.

      A man stepped out of the pickup and came toward our lemonade stand.