Dinosaur Hideout: Dinosaur Adventure Series, #1

By Judith Silverthorne

What good is a bunch of old bones?

Daniel lives in southwestern Saskatchewan along the Montana border, land rich in fossils from the prehistoric past. Dinosaur country. Daniel loves nothing more than fossil hunting. He even dreams about dinosaurs.

But his dad wants him to take more interest in his chores. The farm is in financial trouble, and he doesn't think a bunch of old bones is going to help.

Then, at his secret hideout, a hollowed-out cave in the hillside, Daniel makes an exciting find. A fossil never before seen in the area, proves to him he's on the right track to find bigger dinosaur bones. But he has to watch out for Pederson, the scary old guy who lives on the neighbouring land. He also has to be on the look out for Pederson's enormous dog.

What is Pederson hiding in his old shack? Why is he trying to scare Daniel away from the fossils?
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Silverlight Productions Inc.
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781777399726

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The darkness of early morning surrounded Daniel as he slipped out the backdoor of the two-story 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.

Behind his mom, he could see his plump baby sister, Cheryl, in her highchair, playing with her cereal. As she plonked her spoon onto the floor, his mother bent to retrieve it. His mom would be kept occupied now, hurrying to prepare Cheryl for the babysitter and herself to leave for her part time nursing job in their nearest town of Shaunavon.

Daniel yanked his toque onto 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 to go again for several days.

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. His horse Gypsy whinnied at him.

Daniel walked over to his gray pinto mare and patted her soft warm neck. Gypsy nuzzled his toque off his head 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 toque. 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, which lay in the southwest area of Saskatchewan, like his father, his grandparents, and great-grandparents before him. In the late 1800s, his great-grandfather, Ezekiel Bringham had staked out the 160-acre homestead, but the one-quarter section of land had once expanded to a whole section of 640 acres over the years.

Daniel had heard the same story most of his life, sitting on his grandfather’s lap, and knew it by heart. How in the 1930s, during the bad drought years when the hay crops had been ruined, and his grandfather had to sell some of the land to pay the taxes just to be able to stay on the place. Another bad turn in crop failures and low prices for cattle had resulted in selling another quarter in the 1950s. All that was left of the original Bringham farm was the home quarter with the house and farm buildings on it, and the quarter of pastureland that Daniel walked across.

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 young pup after one of his favourite Cretaceous Period creatures, because he'd dashed about and dive-bombed on his prey as if he was 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 Dactyl one last scratch behind the ear, and then said, We’ve got to hurry. Come on.

The pair trudged across the snow-covered ground, winding through several small gullies and over the 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. He figured 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 he 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, he rounded a crest of a hill and dipped into a small side gully. He paused. The path snaked downward into 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 to a tangle of overgrown boughs and fallen logs that lay covered with snow.

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

Although the hideout was well hidden, he quickly found the opening and began clearing a path through the drift of snow among the branches and dirt that blocked the entrance. Then, he crept under the branches and crawled inside the mouth of his cave.

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

Then in quick easy movements, he crawled across the dirt floor. Although the cave was low around the edges, once he reached the centre, he stood up. Next, he cleared the snow away from a football-sized opening above his head that allowed the emerging daylight to filter inside.

While Dactyl dashed about sniffing along the edges of the large cavern-like enclosure, Daniel quickly scanned over 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 large rock formations stood beside them, next to an old rolled sleeping bag.

He also had a collection of various 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 expeditions over the last two summers. He'd also tucked a secret stash of emergency chocolate bars and a tattered paperback on dinosaurs that he used for reference into a crevice. Right next to that, he'd placed his excavation tools: a small hammer, an old chisel, a compass, and a small paintbrush he used for brushing dirt from specimens.

Daniel made his way over to a special tree stump, which sat in the middle of the cave floor. 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 find. Quickly, he dumped the contents onto the ground and began searching.

He chose a small rough stone and rubbed some sand off one side with his mitts. Darn, that wasn’t what he was looking for! He set it back down again and then drew another and another, shifting through the pile on the ground. He was sure there had to 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 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 odd-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 of the cavern.

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-crossed markings on it. He set the stone back on the ground carefully, threw off his mitts, and 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-crossed grooves looked just like the face of a ripe sunflower for which receptaculites were named. Now he had proof for the kids at school, who thought he was delusional with all his talk about dinosaurs being on his farm. He knew this particular sponge-like organism originally must have come from the north Cambrian Shield, and been carried by glaciers and dumped in the south of the province. But this also meant there had been activity in his area and who knew what else was laying 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.

Daniel imagined the bright blue of the sky reflected in the shallow clear sea at his feet. As he touched the warm sunlit water with his fingers, he peered at the brightly coloured coral polyps and the golden-topped stromatolites that formed on the bottom a short distance below. Crinoids with their orange fern-like flowers swayed near a huge dark red receptaculites that bobbed about in the soft current.

Then the image changed, and the water became deeper and darker, and the faint outlines of sharks and rays swam through the long-stemmed clumps of sea grass. They made way for a large mosasaur that appeared from out of the depths. Its rows of sharp teeth protruding from its long open mouth warned of impending danger.

Suddenly, an unexpected noise snapped Daniel back to the present. Dactyl’s ears perked up, and at the same time he 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 of the opening as Dactyl barked and rushed towards the entrance. A huge snarling hound met Dactyl head-on.

Startled into action, Daniel tried to reach for his dog's collar to haul him back from the attack. His heart pounded as his mind raced over ways of defending Dactyl and himself. Who or why was someone invading his hideout? What were they going to do with the gun?

Who's in there? demanded a gruff voice.

I am, don't shoot,