You’ve had a great day at Melbourne Museum with your family and now it’s time to go home. But hang on, you’ve left your backpack in one of the galleries!

‘I’ll meet you out front,’ you call to your family as you race back inside.

It only takes a minute to find it, right by the fossil of Horridus the Triceratops. You grab the bag and all of a sudden … the lights go out.

What now?

As your eyes adjust to the dark you take in your surroundings. The huge Triceratops  fossil towers above you and—wait, did it just move?

You freeze. It’s probably just your imagination. But then a voice booms from the shadows. ‘My horn! Someone’s taken my horn!’

Sure enough, Horridus the Triceratops is speaking to you. And not only that, but on the Triceratops’ head you count one, two horns … There’s supposed to be three of them, right?

Someone has taken Horridus’ third horn! It’s got to be somewhere in the museum and it’s up to you to find it.

But before you get started, just how much do you know about a Triceratops’ horns anyway?

You manage to calm the Triceratops down with a promise to help find the missing horn. But where to start?

‘What do you mean, where did I last see it?’ Horridus moans. ‘Right here on my face, of course!’

So you decide to ask the neighbours what they know. Nearby, you find an usual looking dinosaur labelled Tsintaosaurus spinorhinus. It has a wide snout that looks a little like a duck’s bill and on its head is a … hmm, what is that?

‘Hey Horridus,’ you say. ‘Is that your horn?’

‘That?’ Horridus says. ‘That looks like some sort of snorkel.’

The duck-billed dinosaur looks a little offended. ‘Friends,’ it explains, ‘my head is adorned with neither horn nor snorkel, but a crest.’

‘Well, it’s fabulous as far as crests go,’ says Horridus. ‘But it is not my horn. Have you seen my missing horn?’

Tsintaosaurus looks around, then whispers, ‘I did see something and if you can answer one question, I’ll tell you more …

‘What do dinosaurs like me have crests for?’

You continue on through the Dinosaur Walk gallery with Horridus by your side.

‘Now Tsintaosaurus said it was right around here.’
You turn and come face to face with Amargasaurus cazaui …

‘Wow. What is that creature?’

‘Looks like one of your human toilet brushes?’ Horridus whispers.

‘Shhh it might have seen something.’

You look up to the spiky dinosaur. ‘Excuse me,’ you call. ‘Do you happen to know anything about a missing Triceratops horn?’

‘A horn?’ Amargasaurus says in a voice so deep you feel it vibrate through your skin.

‘Why yes, I did see something and if you can answer this question, I’ll tell you …

‘Can you figure out what my lovely spines do?’

‘We’ve seen spikes, crests and snouts,’ Horridus says. ‘But as yet, no horns.’

‘I know,’ you say. ‘But the Amargasaurus said there was definitely a horn on this next creature. It’s supposed to be right … oh.’

‘That’s it?’

‘At least it’s a horn.’

‘But a tiny one,’ Horridus sighs.

The Hercules beetle speaks up in a surprisingly loud voice. ‘It’s actually two horns. And I am one of the largest flying insects in the world, which I think you’ll agree is not something either of you can say.’

‘True,’ you agree. ‘Hey, we’re looking for a missing Triceratops' horn. Do you have any clues?’

‘Well, I did see something and if you can answer one question, I’ll tell you more …

‘What do you think I use my shiny horns for?’

As you stalk through the children’s gallery in search of your next clue, a shadow falls across the room.

‘Now will you look at that,’ Horridus says.

‘You’ve never seen a giraffe?’

‘We didn’t have those in the Cretaceous.’

‘Of course. I forgot you’ve been in the ground for 67 million years.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

‘Sorry. So this is a giraffe and the things on its head are—’

‘Furry horns?’ Horridus cries.

The giraffe graciously lowers its head and explains. ‘These are my ossicones. Unlike most horns, mine are covered in skin and fur.’

‘What-i-cones?’ Horridus asks.

‘Ossicones,’ you repeat. ‘But we’re searching for a Triceratops horn. Have you seen one?’

‘Well, I did see something and if you can answer my question, I’ll share it with you …

‘Just what do you think these ossicones do?

‘Are you sure we should be down here?’ you whisper.

Horridus shrugs. ‘The giraffe said to look in the storage room under the museum.’

Rows of shelves stretch along the walls. Horridus disappears into the shadows and you hear a click. The lights flick on.

‘Looks like you’re really getting the hang of modern life,’ you say.

‘Aha!’ Horridus nods towards the back of the room. There on a shelf stands a solid creature, the tip of its nose peeking from under a sheet. And on that nose is one huge, pointy horn.

‘That’s it,’ you cry. ‘We’ve found it!’

But Horridus doesn’t look so sure.

‘Excuse me?’ the creature calls in a timid voice. ‘Is somebody there?’

You reach up and tug back the sheet to reveal a large and confused rhinoceros.

‘Thank you, oh thank you,’ the rhino says. ‘Couldn’t see a thing under there! But what are you doing here?’

‘We’re looking for a horn,’ you explain. ‘It’s kind of like … your horn.’

‘This? But this is my horn. It doesn’t come off, I promise. Have a go if you like.’

So you push and pull at the rhino’s horn, but no luck.

‘It’s OK,’ Horridus says. ‘That one isn’t mine. None of them are. It’s gone! Oh, what am I going to do?’

‘You lost your horn?’ the rhino shakes its head. ‘Oh dear. I did hear a rumour and if you can answer my question I'll tell you where to go …

‘Do rhino horns have a practical use, or do we wear them for show?’

You’re sure you followed the rhino’s directions, but it’s so dark you must have taken a wrong turn in the Melbourne Gallery. It turns out glass display cases and delicate models are not exactly easy for a Triceratops to navigate.

“I may be stuck,’ Horridus calls.

‘What? You can’t be?’

‘Yes, over here, by this … what is that?’

‘Ship? That’s a ship. It’s transportation. Like a ... floating car.’

‘Floating what?’

‘Never mind. Just come through this way. Careful!’

‘I’m trying my best '

Horridus rounds the corner and stops, staring. You turn to see what’s drawn the Triceratops' attention and come face to face with what can only be described as … a unicorn?

‘Hang on,’ you say. ‘That’s not right. That can’t be ...’

The creature shakes its mane, showing off a rather oversized horn.

‘Behold the majesty of the unicorn!’ it cries. ‘That’s me. I’m the unicorn. Did you behold my majesty?’

You nod. It is sort of majestic, but something about this doesn’t feel right. Unicorns aren’t real, for a start … Or are they?

Horridus steps up. ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ the Triceratops says. ‘But I think you have something of mine.’

‘No,’ says the unicorn. ‘I do not.’

‘That horn. On your head.’

‘Behold the majesty of the unicorn!’ the creature cries again.

‘Don’t change the subject. That’s my horn.’

With this, the unicorn sighs, drops its head and the Triceratops’ horn topples to the floor. It’s not a unicorn at all – it’s a horse (of course!). And not just any horse, but the famous racehorse, Phar Lap.

‘But why did you do it, Phar Lap?’ you ask. ‘Why did you take Horridus’ horn?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Phar Lap sighs. ‘Once, I was the star. But now all the visitors talk about is Horridus this, Horridus that. It’s all about old three-horns here. I just wanted some attention too!’

‘So you stole the horn?’

‘I just borrowed it. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok,’ Horridus says. ‘I know what it’s like to be forgotten. I was underground for 67 million years.’

‘You were?’

‘Yes, a very long time. But I just might have an idea that could solve both of our problems ...’

As Horridus and Phar Lap chat, you notice the morning light through the museum’s front windows. It's time to go home. But before you go, here’s one last question to test what you’ve learned …

What did a Triceratops do with its horns?