The Madman of Black Bear Mountain (7 page)

“We're not saying you did, but you were the one who coordinated the trip with Dr. Kroopnik, and you did insist on us coming here even though you're terrified of flying,” Frank reminded him. “Even when the rest of us thought about leaving last night, you still wouldn't hear of it.”

“He could have lured the bear into camp to create a distraction, staging his own abduction so he could steal the jewel for himself,” I suggested to Frank. I didn't like painting one of my favorite teachers as a villain, but his disappearance with the demantoid raised a lot more questions than he had answers.

“Joe, Frank, you have to believe me,” Jim pleaded. “I didn't mean to steal it, I swear! Dr. Kroopnik took my bag
and then I got lost. I didn't even know a bear came into camp last night. I would never do anything to hurt my students!”

“We want to believe you, but if you didn't mean to do it, why did you lie to us about finding the demantoids?” A hurt tone from our teacher's possible betrayal crept into Frank's voice. “Why not just tell us?”

Jim took a deep breath. “The truth is, I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't let me keep them and sell them.”

Well, that was certainly a lot more honest than we were expecting. He must have realized how bad it sounded, because he scrambled to explain.

“I was going to do it for the Geccos. You guys know how little funding our club gets from the school. If it weren't for the generosity of Randall's parents, we never could have afforded this trip. Think of how many other great ecological expeditions we could go on with the money from those gemstones! All the good we could to do to help the environment!”

In a backward way, his logic kind of made sense. If he was telling the truth, those gems really could make a huge difference to our education as well as GECC's conservation mission. His idea had a flaw, though.

“Only they don't belong to you to sell,” I said.

“They aren't Kroopnik's, either,” he rationalized. “If she stole them from the crash site, then she's just as much a thief as I am.
Worse, even. A man died in that crash—she's practically a grave robber! At least I was going to do something good with them.”

Jim pouted, kicking stubbornly at the dirt with his foot. “And besides, she owes us for ditching us after we went so far out of our way see her. What kind of person crushes the hopes and dreams of a bunch of kids like that? She doesn't deserve something as special as those demantoids.”

It sounded like the kids weren't the only ones feeling let down by Max. Not only had Jim looked up to her as a scientist, but from the way he'd gotten all tongue-tied when Max unexpectedly rode into our lives yesterday, I think he might have had a crush on her as well. Because Jim was our teacher, it could be easy to forget he was really only a few years older than us. He was kind of almost a kid himself when you thought about it, and just then, with his brokenhearted puppy-dog pout, he looked like one too.

“Assuming you are telling the truth, what did you plan to do with the demantoids when you made it back to camp?” Frank asked. “Max has probably noticed she has the wrong backpack.”

“I hadn't really figured that part out yet,” he admitted. “I thought about just hiding the gemstones somewhere, but with my sense of direction, I'd probably never find it again. I guess I'm not much of an outdoorsman
or
a criminal.”

“Speaking of never finding things again,” I interjected, “we have to figure out a way back. The rest of the Geccos are still all by themselves at camp, and none of us are safe until we find a way off this mountain.”

“Right, we can discuss this later,” Frank agreed, his guard shooting back up as he scanned the woods for signs of movement. “We've wasted too much time already. Let's try to find that research station before he finds us.”

I carefully placed the giant demantoid in its pouch with the others, stowed it back in the rucksack along with the rubles, and followed Frank as he crept away from the cave toward the brook.

“Hold on a second,” Jim called from behind us. “Before who finds you?”

“Dude, where have you been?” I asked him. “The Mad Hermit.”

“The Mad Hermit?” Jim scoffed. “Don't tell me you guys still believe Max's silly story.”

Frank and I looked at each other. Thankfully, Jim hadn't been kidnapped like we thought, but that meant he didn't know what we knew about the Mad Hermit of Black Bear Mountain.

“He's real,” I said. “We saw him.”

“You can't be serious,” he said.

“Deadly,” Frank said. “We were lucky to escape with our lives.”

Jim must have realized we weren't joking, because he started scurrying after us, peering over his shoulder as he went.

“If you're trying to find the research station, I know where it is,” he volunteered.

“No offense, Jim, but with your backward sense of direction,
I think we're better off just following Frank,” I said.

“No, I saw it! I spotted it while trying to find my way back to camp. I was heading for it when I smelled someone cooking fish.”

“Bon appétit,”
I said, handing him the can of tuna, which I'd inadvertently crammed in my pocket after blowing it out when the bear showed up. “Now lead the way.”

“It should be just over that ridge.” He pointed uphill from the brook.

Amazingly, Jim was right. When we crested the hill, the station popped into view just a couple hundred yards away, atop the next ridge. The square cabin hovered on the edge of the ravine on a one-story-high set of stilts, giving it a 360-degree view of the entire valley from its wraparound porch. For a forest ranger, it would have made the perfect lookout for fires and poachers. We were just hoping it would make the perfect place to radio for help. We couldn't see the rapids, but we were close enough to hear them rushing down the mountain through the ravine below.

“I'll take the lead,” I said. “There isn't a lot of cover once we get past that next grove of spruce trees, so just try to stay low and follow me.”

We were about halfway there when Jim shrieked like he'd been launched out of a cannon. I spun around to run to defend him, only he wasn't standing behind me anymore. He was dangling upside down from a tree!

T
WANG! WHOOSH! AIEEEEEE!

The sound of the trip wire reached me a split second before the snare whisked Jim off the ground by his ankle.

We'd been so busy looking
up
for threats, it hadn't occurred to us that the hermit might be hunting for his meals from below!

“He's got me! He's got me!” Jim screamed.

“It's okay, Jim. It's just a tree that has you, not the hermit,” Joe assured our upside-down teacher. “Hang tight and we'll have you down in a minute.”

“I'm hanging tight, all right!” Jim whined.

Cutting him down wasn't a problem. Getting him to stand? Well, that was another matter.

“I think it's sprained, guys.” Jim collapsed to examine his already swollen ankle. “I can't put any pressure on it. You guys are going to have to radio for help and then come back to get me.”

“We're not leaving you behind,” Joe declared.

“Thanks, Joe. I'm not so keen on being out here by myself either, but it would take forever to carry me all the way up that hill. The most important thing right now is getting you and the rest of the Geccos back to safety as quickly as we can.”

“He's right,” I said. “His ankle is so swelled up, it's turning into a cankle. Even if we were able to fashion crutches for him, he might not make it. At least here in the trees we can find him some good cover until we get back.”

We got to work splinting Jim's ankle and making a quick lean-to nearby where he could rest comfortably, out of sight of hungry eyes.

“I know you guys still don't trust me about just finding the demantoids, and I know I've got a lot of work to do to rebuild that trust after lying to you,” Jim said while we worked. “But I've been thinking about the whole thing, and, well, what about Randall?”

“What about him?” I asked, curious to see what Jim was getting at.

“I know it may sound like I'm just trying to deflect the blame, and I feel awful possibly pointing the finger at one of my own students, but Randall is the one who gave me the
idea for the trip. He said his parents would pay for our entire stay at Bear Foot Lodge if I could arrange for the Geccos to study with Dr. Kroopnik. I hope I'm wrong about this, but his family's been coming here for years, and he'd be a lot more likely to have known about the treasure than me.”

“He did already know about that plane crash before Commander Gonzo told the rest of us,” I pointed out. “And he was as insistent as anybody about coming here even though he can't stand nature.”

“Well, the quicker we get to that station and radio for help, the sooner we'll get a chance to ask him,” Joe said. He and I left Jim behind with the rest of the water and made our final push toward the research station. The sound of the rapids crashing down the side of the mountain grew louder the closer we got. Luckily, we were approaching from the rear, so we wouldn't have to traverse the rickety wooden bridge that was suspended over the rapids from the station to the other side of the ravine.

We snuck up to the cabin's stilts, gave one last look around to make sure the coast was clear, and climbed the stairs to the deck. The door to the research station stood wide open, and it wasn't to invite us in. The place had been totally ransacked. Only this time it wasn't by bears.

“Somebody broke in looking for something,” I said quietly.

Practically every drawer and cabinet in the place had been dumped out. Expensive scientific instruments lay broken
amid the debris, along with framed pictures of a middle-aged scientist who might have been Max's father.

“The radio!” Joe cried, running to the counter at the back of the cabin. “It's still in one piece!”

Joe had just picked up the receiver when a silhouette appeared in the station doorway. I braced myself for a second confrontation with the hermit—and breathed a big sigh of relief when Max stepped through the door instead. I didn't know if we could trust her, but she was a lot better than the crazy ax-wielding alternative!

“I'm so glad you guys are okay,” she said, rushing through the doorway. “The hermit found me before I could come back for you. There's no time to explain, but you have to follow me now. He could be back for us any second!”

Max grabbed us and started pulling us toward the door.

“We have to call for help first,” Joe insisted.

“I already did. There's a plane on the way,” she said. “Now let's go. We don't have much time!”

She ran for the door with Joe and me right behind. Or at least I was right behind until I snagged a shoelace on a piece of equipment, yanking my hiking boot halfway off and sending me sprawling.

“Shoot! I'll be there in a second!” I called as I tried to cram my foot back into the snug high-top boot.

“Hurry!” Max yelled, dashing toward the bridge.

I'd just managed to get my shoe back on and laced up when I noticed a large, heavy-duty cabinet marked
RARE SPECIMENS
. It was the only one that hadn't been ransacked, and despite the imminent danger, I couldn't resist taking a quick peek at Max's research discoveries.

My mouth dropped open as soon as I opened the door. I'd found a rare specimen indeed—the middle-aged man from the photographs, gagged and duct-taped!

I yanked the gag out of his mouth. The man coughed and gasped for breath. “Thank you. Thank you. I thought I was never going to get out of there.”

“Who are you?” I asked as I cut through the duct tape. The answer was just as shocking.

“Dr. Max Kroopnik,” he said. “This is my research station.”

It was my turn to sputter for breath. “But—but—”

I looked from the Max Kroopnik climbing out of the cabinet to the Max Kroopnik running across the bridge with my brother.

“But if you're Dr. Kroopnik”—I pointed out the door—“then who is she?”

J
OE!”

I was already halfway across the wobbly plank bridge when I heard my brother scream my name. Unfortunately, Max heard him first.

“Watch out!” Frank shouted.

I pivoted back toward the research station, but Max already had hold of the rucksack slung over my right shoulder. With me turning one way, Max yanking the other, and the shaky suspension bridge swaying in yet another, my body did a complete one-eighty. Next thing I knew, the bag was sliding off my arm and I was teetering against the rope rail, my arms spinning as I tried to regain my balance.

I grasped for the bag, but at that point I couldn't have cared less about the gleaming demantoid gems inside it. I
needed something to grab onto or I was going to fall off the bridge!

As the shoulder strap slipped away from me, I caught a glimpse of Max's wrist where her sleeve had come undone. A bear paw with a squiggly line running through it seemed to be waving good-bye to me from the skin on her forearm.

Right before I went sailing over the rail, it occurred to me that I'd seen another arm with the same tattoo just the day before. On Casey—her sister.

Unfortunately, the family crest on Max's arm was the last thing I saw before I started plummeting toward the rapids below.

I
WATCHED HELPLESSLY AS “MAX”
—or whoever she was—snatched the rucksack from Joe's grasp, shoving him backward in the process. The rope rail bent beneath his weight, and for a terrifying second he seemed to hover in the air before gravity took hold and flipped him over the side, his body twisting as he fell.