Erlhoff PONS Die drei ??? Fragezeichen Bite of the Beast

Lektüre: Englisch lernen mit den 3 Fragezeichen
1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-3-12-050014-8
Verlag: PONS Langenscheidt GmbH
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Deutsch, Band 8, 111 Seiten

Reihe: PONS Die drei ??? Fragezeichen

Zugegeben, das Säbelzahntiger-Skelett mit den riesigen Fangzähnen im Naturkundemuseum von Rocky Beach sieht sehr bedrohlich aus. Aber dass es nachts durch die Gegend spukt, kann Justus nun wirklich nicht glauben! Wer oder was treibt dann sein Unwesen im 'Geistermuseum', wie der Ort von den Nachbarn schon genannt wird? Die drei ??? gehen den Spuren nach. Und entdecken das Unfassbare ... Englisch lernen mit Justus, Peter und Bob - spannende, englische Story mit Übersetzungshilfen - alphabetische Wortliste zum einfachen Nachschlagen Ab dem 3. Lernjahr

Autoren/Hrsg.

Erlhoff, Kari

Weitere Mitwirkende

Melican, Brian

Leseproben

TR. 01
1. A Feverish Warning
The ambulance appears to come out of nowhere. Although Titus Jonas steps on the brakes, the old Jonas company van doesn’t react. Uncle Titus swings the steering wheel round and the van grazes through the thick bushes. Branches are whipping the windscreen until the vehicle comes to a groaning halt. “You idiot!“ shouts Uncle Titus at the ambulance. “I hope nothing has happened at the museum,” says Justus Jonas, leaning out of the window. Through the thick midday air, shimmering in the heat, he makes out the coastal mountains of Rocky Beach. “Who knows?“ growls Uncle Titus and strokes his moustache. “We’ll see, won’t we?” A few minutes later, they park at the end of the street in front of the former Natural History Museum. The ambulance is right in front of the entrance, although its driver is nowhere to be seen. Justus jumps out of the transporter. “Should we ring the bell?” “No, wait here.” Uncle Titus goes over to the museum and peeps through the open door. Somewhere inside the building an angry dog is barking. “We had better wait for a second – who knows what’s happened in there.” A few minutes later, two paramedics come out of the building carrying a stretcher. A dark-haired man and two small boys follow. On the stretcher is a rather thin old man with white hair: it is Dr Wadleigh, the new owner of the Natural History Museum, who also lives on site. Justus recognises him from his visit to Uncle Titus’ Salvage Yard; Dr Wadleigh is a palaeontologist, a specialist in excavating the skeletons of ice-age animals. He often stopped by the Salvage Yard looking for furniture for his museum. Just a week ago, he was a picture of good health; now, he is as white as chalk, his eyes staring into space. “The children,” he stammers. The dark-haired man bends towards the stretcher. “Calm down, dad.” Nevertheless, Dr Wadleigh shakes his head in panic. “No! It’s so dangerous …” “There’s no danger, Dad! You’ve just got a fever, that’s all.” “We’re going to take him to the Memorial Hospital,” says one of the paramedics. “The children …” repeats Dr Wadleigh, mumbling. He tries to get up, but doesn’t manage to do much more than lift his right arm. Just under his elbow, there is a bandage, stained with dark blood. Justus shivers at the sight of it. “Listen, please!” The old man turns to the First Detective. “It’s … dangerous … If the … ti … tiger comes …” Before he can say any more, the stretcher is put into the ambulance. It is only at this point that the dark-haired man notices Justus and his uncle. He takes a brief look at the blue transporter. “Mr Madsen, used car dealer,” he says, and holds out his hand to Uncle Titus. Titus Jonas frowns. “There must be some mistake, Sir. I’m Titus Jonas.” “Oh, I do apologise!” The dark-haired man rearranges his glasses, embarrassed. “Mr Jonas, but of course! With all this stress I’m afraid I’m not quite myself. I’m Quentin Wadleigh.” “No need to introduce yourself, Mr Wadleigh.” Uncle Titus takes the hand held out to him and shakes it. “I recognised you straight away! But we haven’t seen each other for a good ten years. Nice that you’re back visiting your former home!” “Well, yes, although I had imagined having a somewhat more pleasant holiday,” replies Quentin Wadleigh. “But everything is going wrong.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Do come in, though, and we can see to business right away.” Wadleigh, Uncle Titus and Justus all go out of the heat into the house. Justus is careful to notice the layout of the house; it looks as if the living rooms are on the right hand side with the entrance to the museum on the left. In the semi-darkness of the high-ceilinged rooms, Justus sees a couple of dusty display cases. The walls are hung with yellowed informational signs about plants and insects. In the opposite corner, Justus thinks he can see the skeleton of a rather large animal, half-hidden behind a ladder and a trestle table. There are buckets of paint and tools lying around everywhere; on the floor, crumpled plans and drawings. Uncle Titus too takes a look into the exhibition room. “Are these yours?” “Sorry?” Mr Wadleigh looks around confused. He is trying to work out what might belong to him of all people. “The children – are they yours?” Uncle Titus grins and points to the two small boys, at this point in time both concentrating intently on dipping a sandal into a bucket of paint. One of them is about five years old, the other four at the most. “Yes, they’re Jamie and Sammy.” Adopting a suddenly quite strict tone, he turns to them. “Stop messing around! Jamie, let Sammy go!” “Lively little lads, aren’t they?” “Yes, quite. But you can’t imagine how difficult it is to find a babysitter for them.” Wadleigh leads them into a big, open-plan kitchen. “Do take a seat.” He himself falls into a chair, sighing. “The children have been here since last week already. I needed to go to San Francisco on business and left them here for a couple of days.” He stands up again. “And now I have to leave again, at this of all times. My boss has just called and said that I have to leave for New Mexico tomorrow afternoon. There’s a customer with a big order for our company and he can’t wait until Monday.” “That’s a good thing, though,” says Uncle Titus encouragingly. “And what am I to do with the children? My wife is in Europe at the moment! Dr Frears, my father’s best friend, is completely disorganised and the neighbours don’t have space for the boys; and they don’t want to stay here because they think that there is a ghost in the museum.” He shakes his head contemptuously. “Nonsense!” “But there are ghosts here, really!” They all turn to the direction from where the voice has come. The older of the two boys is standing in the doorway with a serious face. “The sabre-teeth tiger is alive!” “It’s called a sabre-tooth tiger, Jamie,” says Quentin Wadleigh, correcting his son, “and I am 100 percent sure that there are no 20,000-year-old predators running around here.” Jamie crosses his arms. “He comes alive every night. And it was him who bit Grandpa!” “That is complete rubbish!” shouts Mr Wadleigh. “Then again, your father did say something about a tiger and about danger,” says Justus, deep in thought. “What do you think he meant by that?” “Nothing! He was running a very high fever; people say some very odd things when they are that ill.” “But he was very serious concerning the children!” The First Detective is not about to give up. “He even told us not to play with the sabre-tooth tiger!” adds Jamie, crossing his arms again. “Well of course he did!” says Mr Wadleigh, annoyed. “And I expect you to obey! Leave the...