Dear mouse friends,
welcome to the
STONE AGE!
Welcome to the Stone Age . . .
And the World of the cavemice!
Capital:
Old Mouse City
population:
We’re not
sure. (Math doesn’t exist yet!) But Besides
CaveMiCe, there are plenty Of dinOsaurs, Way tOO Many saBer-tOOthed
tigers, and ferOCiOus Cave Bears — But nO MOuse has
ever had the COurage tO COunt theM!
typiCal Food:
petrified Cheese sOup
national Holiday:
Great Zap Day,
WhiCh CeleBrates the disCOvery Of fire. rOdents
exChange grilled Cheese sandWiChes On this hOliday.
national drink:
MaMMOth Milkshakes
Climate:
Unpredictable,
With
frequent MeteOr shOWers
cheese
soup
seashells Of all shapes
and sizes
money
the BasiC unit Of MeasureMent is Based On
the length Of the tail Of the leader Of
the village. a unit Can Be divided intO a
half tail Or quarter tail. the leader is
alWays ready tO present his tail When there
is a dispute.
measurement
milk
shake
THE CAVEMICE
Geronimo
Trap
Thea
Benjamin
Hercule Poirat
Bugsy Wugsy
Grandma Ratrock
Geronimo Stilton
CAVEMICE
THE SMELLY
SEARCH
Scholastic Inc.
Copyright © 2014 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Palazzo Mondadori, Via
Mondadori 1, 20090 Segrate, Italy. International Rights © Atlantyca
S.p.A. English translation © 2017 by Atlantyca S.p.A.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are
copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All
rights reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted. Based
on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami. www.geronimostilton.com
Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920
, 557 Broadway, New
York, NY 10012. SCHOLASTIC
and associated logos are trademarks
and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered
trademark of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more
information, go to www.stiltoncheese.com.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
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www.atlantyca.com.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
e-ISBN 978-1-338-08864-9
Text
by Geronimo Stilton
Original title Per mille pietruzze . . . il gonfiosauro fa le puzze!
Cover by Flavio Ferron
Illustrations by Giuseppe Facciotto (design) and Alessandro Costa (color)
Graphics by
Chiara Cebraro with Paola Molteni
Special thanks to Shannon Penney
Translated by Lidia Morson Tramontozzi
Interior design by Becky James
First printing 2017
MANY AGES AGO, ON PREHISTORIC MOUSE ISLAND, THERE
WAS A VILLAGE CALLED OLD MOUSE CITY. IT WAS INHABITED
BY BRAVE
RODENT SAPIENS
KNOWN AS THE CAVEMICE.
DANGERS SURROUNDED THE MICE AT EVERY TURN:
EARTHQUAKES, METEOR SHOWERS, FEROCIOUS DINOSAURS,
AND FIERCE GANGS OF SABER-TOOTHED TIGERS. BUT THE
BRAVE CAVEMICE FACED IT ALL WITH A SENSE OF HUMOR,
AND WERE ALWAYS READY TO LEND A HAND TO OTHERS.
HOW DO I KNOW THIS? I DISCOVERED AN
ANCIENT BOOK WRITTEN BY MY ANCESTOR, GERONIMO
STILTONOOT! HE CARVED HIS STORIES INTO STONE TABLETS
AND ILLUSTRATED THEM WITH HIS ETCHINGS.
I AM PROUD TO SHARE THESE STONE AGE STORIES WITH
YOU. THE EXCITING ADVENTURES OF THE CAVEMICE WILL
MAKE YOUR FUR STAND ON END, AND THE JOKES WILL
TICKLE YOUR WHISKERS! HAPPY READING!
Geronimo Stilton
Warning!
Don’t imitate the cavemice.
We’re not in the Stone Age anymore!
MYSTERIOUS MAIL!
It was a warm autumn
morning
and I
was feeling mousetastic! There were no
meteor
showers, no erupting volcanoes,
and no earthquakes.
Bones and
Stones!
It was a fabumouse
cavemouse day!
After a light breakfast of fourteen Jurassic
cheeses, ten Paleozoic cheese balls, and eight
cups of
frothy
mammoth milkshake,
I nimbly skipped to my office. (Well, more
or less —
buuurp!
)
Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! My name
is Stiltonoot,
Geronimo Stiltonoot
,
and I’m the publisher of The Stone Gazette,
the most famouse newspaper
in the
STONE AGE
. . .
probably because it’s the
only one!
I had just stuck my snout
out of my cave, when I
heard a flapping sound —
SWOOOOOSH!
—
followed by a loud shriek:
Then . . .
Huh?!
Mail!”
Bonk
A mail-a-dactyl dropped a stone slab on
my head! Great rocky boulders — the slab
was so heavy, it
flattened
me on the
ground like a Jurassic cheddar pancake!
When I sat up again, I looked at the
mysterious
mega-slab and was shocked
to see that it was from . . .
Sally
Rockmousen
. My archenemy Sally —
the host of Gossip Radio, the rodent who
spreads fake news all over Old Mouse
City — actually wrote to me?!
Impawssible!
Gossip Radio is The Stone Gazette’s
biggest, most double-crossing competitor.
Its headquarters are perched on top of a
small hill. From there, Sally
screeches
the
most inaccurate, dishonest, and just plain
fake gossip in the Stone Age.
Sally’s
news
is passed by word of
mouth to other rodents and shriekers,
Bad weather coming!
Bag feather coming!
Big father
coming!
who then screech it to others. By the time
the news gets to the last mouse, it usually
doesn’t even make any
sense
. Sally’s stories get mouserifically
W
A
R
P
E
D
!
What kind of reporting is that? Sally is a
pawsitive fraud! I didn’t even read her note.
As soon as I got to the office
that morning, I was greeted by my
assistant,
WILEY UPSNOOT
.
“Everything okay, boss?”
“See for yourself,” I
grumbled, handing him
Sally’s
note.
He read the message
carefully. “Boss, it’s
an
invitation
! Sally is
inviting you to a
mousestastic
Huh?!
team
TREASURE HUNT
!”
For all the thorns on a cactus!
“
What?! Are you sure, Wiley?
”
I asked.
Wiley handed the note back to me. “Hold
on to your cheese, boss — take a look!”
Dear Geronimo,
You are officially invited to participate in a
mega team treasure hunt organized by the most
distinguished reporter in the Stone Age — me,
Sally Rockmousen! Do you accept? Mark the
box of your choice:
I accept!
Absolutely!
I can’t refuse!
Sure!
Petrified Cheese!
“
” I squeaked.
“Never say never, boss,” replied Wiley.
“I refuse to go!” I said, shaking my snout.
He shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss,
but did you see this?”
The back of the slab had another message
chiseled in very, very, very small print:
If you don’t participate, Gossip Radio will squeak
to every rodent in the Stone Age that you’re afraid
to lose. Old Mouse City will finally realize that
you’re a total scaredy-mouse! See you tomorrow
morning in Singing Rock Square!
Crusty cheese chunks! How could Sally
Rockmousen accuse me of such a thing?
Okay, so maybe I’m not the bravest mouse
in the
STONE AGE
, but I’ve always worked
hard, and I’ve never turned my back on a
challenge
.
“That really
toasts
my cheese!” I
muttered. “I’ll never go on Sally’s treasure
hunt — and I mean
Never
!”
Sally
Rock
mousen
THINK VERY
CAREFULLY, BOSS!
Wiley looked me square in the
EYE
. “I
don’t think that’s such a good idea, boss.”
“You’re right, Wiley,” I said firmly. “After
all the dirty
TRICKS
Sally has pulled on
us, I’m not going to fall for another one!”
“No!” he replied. “I mean that it’s not a
good idea to
refuse
Sally’s invitation.”
Rotten ricotta! Wiley was using the same
tone of voice Grandma Ratrock used in the
morning to get me out of bed for the gym.
“You definitely
HAVE TO
participate,”
Wiley squeaked.
“But . . . I don’t
HAVE TO
!” I replied.
“You see, I
HAVE TO
go to the dentist . . .
and I
HAVE TO
feed my autosaurus . . .
and I
HAVE TO
work at the office, but —”
“That’s exactly it!” Wiley squeaked. “The
office! Work! The newspaper! If you don’t
participate in the
TREASURE HUNT
, how
do you think that will make The Stone
Gazette look?”
The truth was,
WILEY
was right. I couldn’t
refuse. I couldn’t risk looking like an
unsportsmouselike
rodent. The Stone
Gazette’s reputation was at stake!
“Oh, all right . . .” I caved.
We’ll look
bad!
Gulp!
I reluctantly began
chiseling
a
check mark on the invitation.
Once I finished, I scurried out of the
office and started
LOOKING
for some
other mice to join my team. And who do
you think was the
first
rodent to pop
into my head?
You got it! The most famouse detective in
the Stone Age: my friend
Hercule Poirat
!
Well done,
boss!
THIS WHOLE THING
STINKS!
W
h
o
o
o
o
o
o
a
!
I headed for Hercule’s cave as fast as my
paws would take me. But as I got closer, I
didn’t see the Paleozoic
banana peel
lying on the ground. I stepped on it, lost my
balance, and . . .
I began slipping and
sliding down the hill,
and
faster
and
faster
!
Holey boulders,
I was in trouble!
avala
nche
Zoooo
OOM
UGH!
I
rolled
along like an
and crashed into Hercule’s cave! Dazed, I
stayed there
flattened
against the rock
like a barnacle attached to a Paleozoic cliff.
How prehistorically painful!
Hearing my
thundering
entrance, my
friend Hercule scurried out of his cave.
“Pointy triceratops
horns, Geronimo!
Oof!
Couldn’t you have
just knocked?”
I
groaned
,
massaging my bumps
and bruises.
Once I got
myself together,
I told Hercule
about the
TREASURE HUNT
.
“
Very strange!
” he remarked. “I’d
better come with you. Who knows what
kind of a mess you’ll end up in otherwise!”
“It’s settled, then — you’ll be part of my
team
!” I squeaked, relieved.
“Yes, but, Geronimo,” Hercule said in a
low voice, “this seems like a dirty
trick
.
This whole treasure hunt thing
STINKS
even more than you do . . .”
I guess I hadn’t bathed in almost a
Ouch!
Couldn’t you
have just
knocked?
THEA STEERING HER TEAM OF
SLED-AUTOSAURUSES
month
— but how could he tell?!
“
Let’s see!
” my friend pondered.
“Our team is going to need someone who’s
brave, dynamic, and full of
energy
. In
other words, we need your sister, Thea!”
“But she’s not around,” I answered with
a frown. “She’s on an expedition to the
Land of Ice
!”
“
Bones and stones!
” Hercule exclaimed,
peeling a banana and looking disappointed.
“Then who else are we going to recruit?”
“Well, we could ask Trap . . .” I suggested
with a shrug.
“Fabumouse!” Hercule squeaked, cheering
up. “At least we’ll have a good supply of
food
!”
My cousin Trap runs the
Rotten
Tooth Tavern
, which is famouse for
its food. The chef,
Greasella Stonyfur,
makes whisker-licking good meals.
Yum!
“We can ask my nephew Benjamin, too,”
I added.
“That’s good,” agreed Hercule, munching
on another banana. “But we also need some
female
intuition!”
“Uh, female intuition?” I repeated,
scratching my snout. “Who did you have
in mind?
Harriet
Heftymouse
,
the village leader’s
daughter?”
“Of course not,
Geronimo!” Hercule said.
“We need someone who’s more
determined. Someone who’s as
sharp
as aged cheddar. Someone like your
Grandma Ratrock!”
“But Grandma is at the
Great Gurgling