The blue-stone mystery (7 page)

"Hurry up, Rip!" they heard the harsh voice call. "The fire's going good. Everything went like clockwork. Let's get that herd moving. Hey! Where are those boys?" The last question was a roar. A minute later they heard him say, "Well, TU just check in a minute to make sure."

"We're going to have to run for it," Pedro said. "Maybe we can get to the top of the canyon before they find out where we have gone. Listen, Chip. If they see us, we had better separate. You hide somewhere until I can lead them away. Then you find the trail to the ranch and follow it back."

"But what if they catch you?" Chip protested.

"They won't," Pedro promised. "You just get back to tell Mr. Allen what's going on. Let's go!"

Before Chip had time for another word, Pedro was dashing across to the shelter of the trees. Chip ran after him, hoping that they could get out of the canyon without being discovered.

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They almost made it. They were crossing a bare stretch of rock near the top when they heard an angry shout below and behind them. Chip glanced over his shoulder. Mr. Crowe was waving his whip and spurring his horse up the path. Rip, shouting and calling names, followed on his horse.

The chase had begun.

•chapter Eight

Karen Follows a Sign

While the boys were planning their escape, Karen was picnicking with the fishing party. After eating her lunch in a little mountain meadow, she jumped from one stepping-stone to another across the shallow, gurgling stream. Hearing a splash, she turned and laughed to see Clover, the dachshund, slide from one of the stones and scramble

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on through the water. Clover took the accident casually. She spattered drops in every direction as she shook herself dry.

Lounging in the shade on the opposite bank, the grownups avoided the noonday sun. The picnic baskets were empty, and everyone was content to rest for a while — everyone except Karen, who overflowed with energy. She jumped back and forth across the stream and finally knelt on the soft bank while she tried to coax a wary grey squirrel to take crumbs from her hand. Clover had other ideas, though. Barking frantically, the dog chased the bushy-tailed visitor up the nearest tree. Then she wagged her tail unrepentantly while both Karen and the large-eared squirrel scolded her.

Karen gazed at the dark green mountainsides stretching away to the north and west. They looked like big, soft, rounded cushions heaped against the sky. Seen this way, the forest was not a bit frightening. Someone had a fire up there. She could see the smoke. But even as she watched, the plume of smoke grew larger, rising high over the trees.

"Wh^t are you staring at, Karen?" her father called.

"Just some smoke on the mountain," she answered. "Someone has an awfully big campfire, I guess."

Her father unfolded his long legs and stood up. In a few strides he was over the stream and by her side. He didn't need Karen to point out the smoke. It was spreading rapidly across a flank of the mountain. He watched it intently for a minute. Then he turned and called to the others. "It's a forest fire.

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I can even see some of the flames. We'd better hurry back to the ranch and tell Mr. Allen."

He and Karen jumped back across the brook, followed by Clover. The women bustled about packing the baskets while the men got their fishing rods and tackle together.

"Is it coming this way?" Mr. Brownlee asked in his thin, fussy voice.

"No. Fortunately it is blowing in the other direction. Lucky there isn't much more than a breeze or the whole side of the mountain would go up in minutes." Mr. Trainor slipped his reel into its case and pulled the drawstrings tight. "Let's go!"

Twenty minutes later the party trooped up the steps of the lodge. They met Mr. Allen hurrying out of the manager's office. "There's a forest fire up there to the northwest," Mr. Trainor said, waving a long arm in the direction of the smoke.

"Yes, I know," Mr. Allen answered. "The Forest Service just called. One of the lookouts spotted it. They are going to send jumpers if necessary, but we've got to get some men up there in a hurry. Any volunteers?"

All of the guests offered to do what they could

Karen Follows a Sign

to help. Mr. Allen quickly gave directions. Even Karen was instructed to ring the big dinner bell as an alarm. For half an hour the lodge was the scene of feverish activity. Then the last jeep-load of men disappeared up the trail. Mrs. Trainor and the other women went to help the cook make sandwiches and coffee to be taken up to the fire fighters later.

Karen sat on the porch steps with Clover. Suddenly she jumped to her feet. "Chip and Pedro! I wonder if they're still at the stable."

She ran to the corral, with Clover scampering at her heels. "Chip! Pedro!" she called, first outside and again in the cool, shadowy stable. No one answered.

She looked for the sign. There it was! A C, and an arrow with an S on it. The boys had followed Mr. Crowe into Indian land! She wished she knew how long they had been gone. Now she had two things to worry about — the fire and the boys' venture. She and Clover walked slowly back toward the lodge.

Rounding the bend in the path, she glanced at the long porch. She stood stock-still in amazement. Mr. Crowe was by the front door! He was talking to

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her mother. As she watched, the big man touched the bill of his yellow cap and went on inside the lodge.

Karen called and waved, "Hey, Mom! Wait a minute!" She ran the rest of the way and dashed breathlessly up the steps. "Have you seen Chip?"

"No, dear. Mr. Crowe just said the boys told him they were going on a picnic up at the beaver dams near The Bowl. He thought they would probably be back about supper time. I wish they weren't up in the woods with a forest fire burning."

"Mr. Crowe told you that?" Karen said unbelievingly.

"Why, yes, dear. What's the matter?"

"But they couldnt have gone up to The Bowl! I'm sure they didn't!"

"Now, Karen, be sensible. Why would Mr. Crowe say they had if they hadn't? If they told you they were going somewhere else, they must have changed their minds after we left. I must get back to the kitchen. Mr. Crowe will be out soon. He's using the phone in the office. Don't bother him with questions. He seemed in a hurry." Mrs. Trainor went back into the lodge.

Karen Follows a Sign

Karen turned thoughtfully and walked back down the steps. Her mother needn't worry. She didn t want to talk to Mr. Crowe. But she certainly wished she knew where the boys were. Why would Mr. Crowe say they had gone some place they hadn't? The whole thing was pecuhar. The boys' sign said they had followed Mr. Crowe. But here he was at the ranch, and the boys were still gone. She felt a chill chase down her spine. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe if she watched the man, she could learn the answers to her questions.

She hurried to the Trainors' cabin. Clover pattered after her, but Karen was deep in thought and shut the door before the dog could enter. Clover flopped down on the cabin porch to wait. Inside, Karen stood by the open front window, peeking through the curtains. In a few minutes she saw Mr. Crowe come around a corner of the lodge and start up the path by the cabin.

Where was he going? Karen almost stopped breathing in her effort to be silent. Mr. Crowe looked unusually cheerful as he took off his cap, slapping it on his leg as he walked. His mood changed abruptly a moment later.

Karen Follows a Sign

When he was nearly opposite the window, he was surprised and startled as Clover suddenly rushed out to confront him. The little dog barked and snapped fiercely, raising a cloud of dust as she moved in to attack. In the cabin Karen jumped at the flurry and nervously chewed on a finger. Should she go after Clover? She hated to face Mr. Crowe when he was angry.

Mr. Crowe backed up at the fury of Clover's charge. "Shut up, you mangy mutt!'' he said, contemptuously. "What a watchdog! Fine help you'd be to those kids. Get out of my way!" As Clover circled around him, almost tripping him up, he reddened with anger. "I've been interfered with enough today!" he almost shouted. "Get away, or I'll take care of you, too! Beat it! Scram!"

Clover evaded the boot and, still defiant, retreated to the porch. Mr. Crowe strode grimly off into the woods.

Karen shivered. What had he meant? What was that about the boys and a watchdog? Her throat tightened in fear as she thought of the man's words. He had said, "I'll take care of you, too." Where was he going and where were the boys? She was sure

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now that he had done something to them. Suddenly she decided there was only one way to find her brother and Pedro. She must follow Mr. Crowe herself! All of the men had gone to the fire. She had to do something now, before Mr. Crowe got away.

For just a second she hesitated. Then she took a deep breath, opened the door quietly, and slipped out. She moved from bush to bush, thankful that her rubber-soled sneakers made no noise. Soon she was deep in the woods as she followed the sounds that Mr. Crowe made — the crunch of stones, the snapping of small twigs.

Once a rustle behind her made her jump and gasp in fright. But when she turned, there was only Clover, wagging her tail and whining. "Be quiet, Clover! Go back!" she whispered. The tail just wagged harder. "Oh, okay. But don t make a sound. Here, Til carry you."

She picked up her pet and hurried through the woods. Somehow, she felt better with Clover along. Five minutes later she heard a horse's whinny and then the thud of hoofs on the trail. She ran until she saw, between the trees, Mr. Crowe riding away on a horse. She knew she couldn't keep up with

Karen Follows a Sign

him, but maybe she could follow the horse*s trail.

Karen put Clover down again and set off along the path. It was well-worn and easy to see. In ten minutes she came to a fork in the trail. After considering a moment, she went straight ahead. She would try to keep going toward Indian land, for that was what the boys* sign had said. A few minutes later she was relieved to see again, far ahead, the man she was following. She tried to walk a little faster. She had to find the boys. She was sure they were in trouble, and that Mr. Crowe would lead her to them.

Gradually the trail led out onto the mesas. Here many paths crossed and converged among the small pines and junipers. Karen had no way of knowing that most of them were deer trails wandering through the brush. She was confused by the frequent necessity to choose one path or another. She tried to keep going in one direction, but the paths turned and twisted so that soon she had not the slightest idea which way Mr. Crowe had gone.

She stood still and looked up at the sun. It was so near the zenith that she couldn't tell directions from it. As best as she could figure, that way was

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south. She set off again, but came to a startled halt when the path ended at the edge of a canyon. Carefully, she peered over the side. No one could descend that sheer wall. She walked along the rim for a quarter of a mile, before she found a place where she could get to the bottom. It was hot and dusty as she slipped and slid down the steep slope, with Clover scrambling after her.

Climbing the other side of the canyon was even more difBcult. She had to pull herself up at times by holding on to tough scrub oak branches. Both she and Clover were exhausted when they finally found themselves on top of a mesa again. Karen sat down to rest. She was very thirsty, and Clover was, too. If only she knew where Chip and Pedro were! What if she didn*t find them and couldn't find her way back to the ranch either? Her worry drove her to her feet. She pushed on through the piiions.

Never had a country seemed so big! Never before had she felt so small! The lodge lay somewhere to her right just inside the edge of the forest. Should she go back to the mountains and hope to find her way to the ranch? She much preferred the open mesas. At least here she could see the whole sky.

Karen Follows a Sign

A great, black raven, cawing harshly, wheeled in the air high over her head. The raucous sound only emphasized the emptiness of the land. What should she do? She would have to decide soon. She wished she weren't so thirsty.