The blue-stone mystery (9 page)

Lost and Found

But although the dachshund scratched hard, she could not stand high enough for Karen to get a good hold on her. The dog dropped down, ran anxiously around, whined, and then came back to touch the ends of the girl's fingers again.

"Well, it can't be very deep if you can touch my hand," Karen decided. "I'll get down there and lift you out."

She lowered her feet over the edge and was pleased to find that there was only about a three-foot drop. Standing on the bottom, which seemed to be covered with small loose stones and dry leaves, she reached out and picked up the happily wiggling dog. Clover licked her face joyously.

Karen laughed. "Okay — okay. I may need a bath, but you don't have to give it to me. I'll put you up here." She set the animal on the edge of the hole. "There! Now scoot on outside, and don't do any more exploring."

A sudden rustle sounded in the leaves a few feet away. Karen stopped laughing and turned in alarm.

"What's that?" she gasped.

There was another rustle, as if something moved toward her. Karen acted instinctively. Reaching

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down for a weapon, she grabbed a handful of small stones, and threw one towards the sound. Hearing a scurry of small feet, the frightened girl stood as if petrified, her heart pounding. Then she jerked quickly around and scrambled out of the hole. As rapidly as possible, she crawled back through the rockslide toward the light. She was almost at the opening when she heard Clover bark excitedly — a welcoming bark this time.

A surprised voice said, "Clover! Is it really you? What are you doing here?"

"Pedro!" Karen called. She began to cry with relief. She edged out between the boulders into the dazzling sunlight. Running to the amazed Indian boy, she sobbed, "Pedro! Oh, I'm so glad to see you. I thought Mr. Crowe had caught you. And I was lost . . . and I was awfully afraid . . . and, oh . . . where's Chip?"

"Sit down, Karen. Please don't cry," said the bewildered boy. "You are so excited. I don't understand. Why are you here? You are all scratched and bleeding. What were you doing back in those rocks?"

"I was looking for you boys," Karen began to ex-

Lost and Found

plain. As Pedro's expression became even more puzzled, she giggled. "Not in the rocks. Clover was caught in a hole, and I had to crawl back and lift her out." She wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with her still-clenched fist, leaving dirty streaks across her face.

"What do you have in your hand?" Pedro asked.

Karen held out her open palm to show him. "Just some little stones I picked up. I heard a noise and it scared me, so I threw something at it. What are you staring at?" Pedro's black eyes were wide, his gaze riveted on her hand. Puzzled, she looked down at the rocks she was still holding. Then she stared also. She pushed the pretty blue pebbles around with the tip of one finger.

"Turquoise!" Pedro whispered. "It's turquoise!" Then he almost shouted, "Karen, where is this hole?"

She pointed to the opening between the boulders. "Back there. Quite a way back."

Pedro threw himself on the ground and squeezed into the passage.

"Be careful," Karen warned. "There's something back there."

Then she laughed and felt ashamed of her fright

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as a small chipmunk, provoked at being disturbed so often in one day, came running out, chattering angrily. Clover, who had chased this fellow back into the tunnel only a short time before, now barked at him from a safe distance.

Five minutes passed, while Karen waited impatiently. Then Pedro scrambled back into the sunlight. His shirt front was full of stones. He dropped them on the ground, and he and Karen bent over

Lost and Found

them. There were large pieces looking much like the ore that Mr. Brownlee had found. There were smaller bits of solid blue.

Karen picked up a smooth, oddly shaped rock. "This one is different. What is it?"

Pedro looked at it with an awed expression. "That is our proof that this is really the lost mine. It is the small image of a mountain lion. See — the eyes, the paws. It was supposed to protect the mine. I will take it." He put it carefully in his pocket. "And this one here is a chipping rock. Feel the sharp edge. It is much harder than the other pieces. It was used to shape the ornaments.

"I still can't believe it, Karen," Pedro added. "But it must be true. You have found the lost mine!"

"And you've found me," the little girl replied. Then she turned a suddenly perplexed face toward her friend. "But I thought Mr. Crowe found the lost mine. He hasn't been here."

"I forgot. You don't know about Mr. Crowe and the Double O cattle. I will tell you all about it."

The two excited youngsters stuffed their pockets with the turquoise and set off toward the ranch. As they walked, Pedro told Karen what had happened

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to the boys since morning. Karen, in turn, explained how she had become lost.

"You know, Pedro," she finished, with newly acquired wisdom, "it would have been so much better if we had told someone what we suspected. Just think of all the things that could have happened to us. We were lucky this time. But next time I wouldn't take such chances."

"Si. You are right, Karen. We were lucky, but we were also foolish."

"Do you suppose Chip got back all right?"

"I hope so. Anyway, we will find out soon." The Indian boy pointed ahead. The chimney of the lodge was just visible through the trees.

chapter Eleven

Explanations and Surprises

It was a tired but still excited group of people that gathered in the living room of the Trainors' cabin that night. Chip, Karen, and Pedro stretched out on the floor in front of the leaping fire. They had washed, eaten, and had their numerous scratches and bruises cared for. Sitting on the wicker sofa, Mrs. Trainor was bandaging her husband's

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blistered hands. Mr. Allen lounged in an easy chair, his arms hanging limply over the sides. Jose, Pedro's father, sat silently by the fireplace, his face unsmiling but his black eyes sparkling.

"Now," Mr. Trainor said, as his wife fastened the last bit of tape, "let's hear the whole wonderful story. I must confess iVe been very curious. Td like to get all the pieces put together. Suppose you children start first."

Taking turns and interrupting each other every few minutes, the three youngsters related everything that had happened. After the explanations were finished and the gentle scoldings and stern reminders were over, everyone examined the turquoise that Pedro and Karen had brought back.

Jose, usually so silent, said, "The governor of the pueblo was very happy when I called to tell him of the mine. Tomorrow Pedro will show us where it is. His description of the place matches the story handed down by our ancestors. We are sure it is the same mine."

He sat quietly and proudly for a minute, and then gave a rare smile. "You cannot know what this find means to us. The mine is important because it

belonged to our ancient people, yes. But it will also make our pueblo prosperous. We will be able to make and sell jewelry of the finest turquoise. Perhaps Pedro will now be able to go to college . . and many of our other pueblo children, too. We are very fortunate."

"Now, Chip," Mr. Allen prompted, "weVe come to the last part of your story. You called the State Police. Right?"

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"Yes, I did. When I got back to the lodge, the men were all gone — fighting the fire, I guess." His father nodded. "So I just asked the telephone operator for State PoHce Headquarters. At first the sergeant who answered the phone thought it was a joke, but after I told him several times, he believed me. He said he'd send some men out to get the rustlers. They did catch Mr. Crowe and the other men, didn t they?"

"They sure did, Chip," Mr. Allen said gratefully. "Rip, on being threatened with a kidnapping charge, told the details of Mr. Crowe's scheme. An accomplice had left the truck tracks in The Bowl every time some cattle were stolen. That's why we were sure the steers were being trucked out — when all the time the men were really hiding them down in Indian land.

"Crowe stayed at the ranch here so he could pick up information about the herds and find out how the search was going. After he saw our guests riding out on the trails into the mountains, he began to worry that someone would accidently stumble upon the canyon where he was hiding the stolen cattle. So he invented that tall tale about a lost mine.

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I got a good deal of satisfaction out of telling him myself that there really was a lost mine, and that you kids had found it. My, oh my! Wasn't he mad! Crowe figured on moving the cattle out all at once in one night — tonight, as a matter of fact. The boys wrecked his plans. By the way, the fire was set deliberately by Crowe to create a diversion so he could get the cattle out during the daytime and so the boys wouldn't be missed.

"Thanks to Chip and Pedro the Double O has its steers back and the rustlers are behind bars in Santa Fe right now. A routine fingerprint check turned up Josh Crowe's real name. He owns property across the state line a couple of hundred miles from here. Agents have been sent to investigate the stock on his own ranch to see if any more missing cattle are there. My guess is that there are. Ranchers in this part of the state have been having trouble with rustlers for several years. At any rate, Crowe and his gang will be in prison for a long time. He sure outsmarted himself this time."

At the children's questioning glances, he explained. "He probably would have succeeded in his plans if he hadn't made up that story about the map

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and the mine. It was his ^planting' of the ore that made you suspicious of him and led to his arrest."

"What about the fire?" Karen asked. "Is it out now?"

"Ahnost," Mr. Allen told her. "The Forest Service sent in some Zuni Indian smoke-jumpers by helicopter. They soon had it under control."

Chip, always curious, questioned, "What*s a smoke-jumper?"

"He's a forest fire fighter who parachutes down from a plane to the site of a blaze. You see, it's often difficult — maybe impossible — to reach a fire by road or trail. Or perhaps the flames are close to ranches or towns and it's important to put them out in a hurry. That's when the smoke-jumpers come to the rescue. Indians from many tribes and pueblos have been trained for this work. They're the best in the nation because they can stay on the fire lines for long hours without tiring and they don't panic. The Forest Service sends them to all the western states, wherever they're needed, to save our forests from destruction. It just happened that the ones sent here were Indians from the Zuni Pueblo."

"What a bad man Mr. Crowe is!" exclaimed Kar-

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en. "Imagine setting a forest fire on purpose!"

Mr. Allen nodded. "That's one thing we westerners find absolutely unforgivable," he agreed. "Oh, yes . . . something else. On his short-wave radio the pilot of the hehcopter heard a police bulletin about the rustlers. Looking around down below, he spotted the cattle trucks. He radioed in their exact position. That's another funny thing — the plane wouldn't have been there at all if Crowe hadn't set the fire."

"It's a good thing the jumpers came," Mr. Train-or laughed, ruefully regarding his sore hands. "I'm afraid most of us aren't in tiptop condition — at least not for swinging axes and shovels."

"Perhaps not," said the manager, "but without you guests the fire might have gone completely out of control. You all did a fine job."

They sat silently for a while, considering and remembering the many events of the day. Suddenly Chip chuckled. "It certainly has been a day for *lost and found,' hasn't it?"

"Yes," Karen agreed thoughtfully. "And have you noticed something else? What each of us found was different from the thing we were looking for."

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Her mother smiled. Quietly she said, "That's often the way it is/'

On the last Saturday in June, almost two weeks later, a group of people from the Double O Ranch motored to the Indian pueblo in the valley. They were escorted to seats under an awning on a platform in the plaza. As special guests, they had been invited to watch the dances of thanksgiving to celebrate the recovery of the lost turquoise mine. After the dances were over, Indians in their bright costumes and spectators from surrounding ranches gathered before the platform for some speech-making.