THE CASE OF THE
BIG GAME HUNTER
A Griffin Sharpe Mini-Mystery

Griffin Sharpe sat quietly in his theater box seat, waiting for the show to begin. He was excited to hear the lecture, a speech by the notable explorer and world traveler Sir Henry Moss! All who were in attendance had heard of the incredible hunting trophies Moss had brought back from exotic countries, many of which were housed in the British Museum.

The idea of hunting didn’t appeal much to Griffin. He hated to see anything killed. But like most boys his age, he loved adventure, and the legend of Henry Moss was well-known to him even back home in America. The famous Moss had been to the deepest jungles, navigated impossible rivers, and faced all kinds of danger in places that nobody had ever ventured to explore. Griffin had read all about him in the Penny Dreadfuls, the nickname for inexpensive magazines filled with sensational stories, and could recite each of Moss’s adventures from memory, often boring his uncle with his obsession over the details.

The special event was by invitation only, and Griffin had been delighted when Sherlock Holmes had passed along two tickets to him and Rupert, claiming that he had a very serious case that was taking up his attention.

Suddenly, the footlights on the stage grew brighter, and a round of applause thundered around the auditorium. Griffin clapped as loudly as everyone else, his eyes shining with excitement.

A rotund man with a very bushy beard introduced Sir Henry Moss, stating “that he had done more to further exploration and protect the British Empire than Admiral Nelson himself,” which was no small claim. Everyone knew that Admiral Nelson was the greatest British hero who ever lived!

Seconds later, a tall man with very distinguished side-whiskers took the stage, to more thunderous applause. Griffin noted that he wore a pith helmet, a tawny-colored jacket, and heavy explorer’s boots. To his delight, Griffin saw that he looked exactly like the illustrations of him that he had seen in the magazines!

The applause died down, and Sir Henry Moss launched into one of his harrowing tales.

“It was on a blistering day in Zimbabwe that my companions and I approached a nearly impassible river. The banks of the Limpopo had been almost entirely swallowed by the rushing, swirling water, due to a torrential downpour a few days before.”

Sir Henry’s glittering black eyes scanned the crowd, noticing that all were riveted to his every word. Griffin squirmed with excitement as he spoke, thrilled to be hearing this story firsthand. It was one that he hadn’t read about in any of his massive collection of Penny Dreadfuls.

“I had managed to kill a ferocious lion a few hours before, and felt certain that the rest of the pride would soon hunt me down. Unless we traversed the river, there would be little hope of throwing them off the scent. We were, in effect, doomed!” Sir Henry Moss said.

He paused for effect. “With no apparent way across the churning river, we were left with little hope. Suddenly, a series of loud roars sounded in the jungle not fifty paces behind me. I drew my pistol, having recently lost my elephant gun in a stampede of wildebeests. This was it! I would make my stand, taking down as many as I could before the inevitable happened.”

The crowd hung on every word. The entire theater was silent.

“But then, just as all seemed lost, I spotted a small herd of giraffe grazing nearby.” Sir Henry Moss smiled, showing rows of glittering white teeth.

“Now, the giraffe is a creature especially suited to crossing bodies of water, due to its extended neck, and they are quite excellent swimmers. So after working with my guides to surround a few of the docile beasts, we were able to make it across in short order, just as the pride of lions appeared.”

He raised his palm to his forehead in a theatrical gesture, pretending to wipe sweat from his eyes. “By Jove, it was a relief to escape the ferocious beasts. Their frustrated roars split the air, shaking the very trees to their roots. After landing on the opposite bank, I was so delighted by our harrowing escape that I fired off three rounds in a victory salute, sending the big pussycats running for cover.”

He sighed and opened his arms in a wide gesture. “It was one of my narrower escapes, to be sure,” he finished.

The crowd cheered. Sir Henry Moss bowed. Rupert, who was sitting next to Griffin, grinned at him, impressed like everyone else at the incredible ingenuity Moss had shown in escaping the great cats.

But Griffin didn’t share his uncle’s enthusiasm. He stared at the posturing man onstage, his face twisted in an attitude of stunned disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” asked Rupert, looking confused.

“He’s a fake,” Griffin said quietly. Then added, “I really shouldn’t have wasted my pennies on those magazines.”

How did Griffin know?

Turn to page 209 for the answer.