“No, I killed him—sure enough.”
“Well, that’s not like killing a bear—a real, live, wild, grizzly bear.”
“They don’t have grizzly bears down here, silly.”
“How do you know they don’t?” retorted Jo Ann. “Grizzlies are found in the mountains of North America, and this is North America, isn’t it? Besides, you haven’t seen his tracks.”
As the argument continued, Florence explained to María and the children what it was about. The two little girls stared wide eyed at Jo Ann and Peggy. They had never in all their lives heard of a girl’s going out to hunt a bear. They decided a gun must be one of those terrible things which their grandmother had told them about. A stick which shot forth a deadly fire that killed everything before it. She had warned them never to touch a fire stick and to hide if they saw anyone with one.
Peggy burst out just then with, “Well, young lady, you’re not going on a bear hunt without me, that’s sure.”
Mrs. Blackwell stared at Jo Ann and Peggy in horrified amazement. “Girls! What are you talking about? A bear hunt! The idea!”
“But, Mrs. Blackwell, we wouldn’t be in any danger,” protested Jo Ann. “We’d hide in a safe place and watch for the bear; then, when he came for another pig, we’d shoot him—that’s all.”
“I’m afraid, my dear, that it wouldn’t be as simple as that.”
Florence, seeing the worried expression on her mother’s face, changed the subject. “The bear must’ve smelled the bacon, and that’s the reason he found our box at the spring. By the way, I wonder what time it is.” She got up and walked to the door. As she looked in at the clock sitting on their improvised dressing table, she gasped, “Good gracious! I had no idea it was so late. If we’re going to have any dinner around here today, I’ll have to start the fire this very minute.”
She went on through the house toward the kitchen, Peggy and Jo Ann following a moment later.
“I’ll build the fire, Florence,” offered Jo Ann, taking the wood out of her hands. “I’ll have it burning before you and Peg get something ready to cook on it—and I’ll start it Mexican fashion, too.”
“Don’t be too sure, Jo,” teased Peggy. “Suppose there aren’t any live coals left?”
“We’ll see.”
Peggy and Florence disappeared into the kitchen, and Jo Ann placed her armful of wood down beside the outdoor fireplace. She stirred the coals left from their breakfast fire then carefully laid several small pieces of wood over them. Leaning down, she began blowing on the coals as she had seen the peon women do. Soon, to her delight, tiny flames began licking at the wood. She kept on blowing a few minutes longer, then sat back on her heels to look with satisfaction at the fire which was now burning brightly in the fireplace.
“When in Mexico do as the Mexicans do,” she called gaily to Florence and Peggy. “I’m getting good. I beat you, and I didn’t have to use a match, either. Now bring on your dinner.”
“You didn’t beat us much. Here, put these potatoes on to boil,” Peggy replied as she handed a pot of potatoes to Jo Ann. “I used the last of the water over them. Hadn’t I better get some more?”
Jo Ann stopped in the act of setting the pot of potatoes over the fire as a thought suddenly flashed into her mind. “I’ll get the water,” she offered quickly. She put the pot down and hurried to the kitchen for the bucket. A moment later she disappeared down the path to the spring.
Jo must be up to something, thought Peggy.
When Jo Ann reached the spring, she set the bucket down on a rock and stood gazing at the overturned box which they had so proudly called their refrigerator the night before. If a real live bear had been the thief, then what had he done with the jars of milk and butter? she asked herself. “I’m going to see if I can find a clue. There ought to be tracks somewhere around here.”
She began looking among the ferns and rocks along the bank of the river beyond the spring in search of some sign of the marauder. Carefully she examined every track. Here were their own tracks made the night before, and the tiny footprints of a squirrel, but not a sign of big padded footprints made by a large, heavy animal.
Still unwilling to give up, she jumped from stone to stone across the swiftly flowing stream, and began searching the opposite bank. A moment later, with a cry of satisfaction, she dropped to her knees and began examining some huge tracks in the soft earth.
“It was a bear, all right!” she exclaimed out loud. “Here’s where he crossed the river—but, gee, what a big one!” Instinctively she glanced all around as though expecting to see the bear. “I bet he smelled our bacon and crossed right here.” She began slowly jumping back over the stones, watching for any sign left by the recent thief.
When in midstream she caught a glimpse of a familiar-looking object a short distance ahead. So suddenly did she stop that she lost her balance and toppled off into the swiftly rushing stream.
Gasping from her sudden plunge into the icy water, she scrambled back up on the rock. “Gosh, that water’s cold!” she shivered. “But since I’m already wet I might as well go on and see if my eyes are deceiving me.”
With the water foaming about her knees, she carefully picked her way down the stream to a large boulder hidden under an overhanging tree. Then, reaching down, she picked up the object that had been wedged between the boulder and the bank.
“Just as I thought,” she said to herself. “Here’s our jar of butter. It won’t do anyone any good because the jar’s broken and there might be glass in the butter, but at least I have proof now that those people at the cave didn’t steal our things—I can show Florence and Peg the bear tracks, too.”
She hastened back up the stream to the spring, and forgetting the bucket of water she had come after, ran on to the house. So eager was she to tell the girls of her discovery that she did not notice that her wet skirt was flapping about her legs and the water sloshing in her shoes.
“Why, Jo, what in the world’s happened?” began Peggy as she saw the bedraggled figure running toward her. “Did you see the bear?”
“No, but I found his tracks! And look what else I found!” she held up the broken jar, partly filled with butter. “I told you those people at the cave didn’t get our things.”
On hearing the noise, Florence ran from the kitchen. “What on earth—” she began, then saw what Jo Ann was holding in her hand. “Where did you find that?”
While Jo Ann was explaining the details of her discovery, they heard a slight noise behind them and, turning, saw Mrs. Blackwell standing in the doorway. “I heard all this chatter and had to find out what it was about. You’re a real Sherlock, I see, Jo—you’ve solved the mystery.”
“Yes,” beamed Jo Ann, “and I’ve proved that I was right about the people at the cave not stealing our things.”
After they had talked a few minutes longer, Florence asked, “What’d you do with the bucket of water, Jo? I want to make Mother’s tea, so we can have dinner.”
Jo Ann stared in blank amazement a moment, then said sheepishly, “I forgot it. I was so excited about my discovery that I forgot all about it. I’ll bring it in a minute.”
She was off like a shot and a few minutes later returned with the bucket of water. “I’m sorry I kept dinner waiting so long,” she told them, as she set the bucket on the table, “but I’m glad I’ve solved that mystery. I’m going to solve the other one, too, before I stop.”
Peggy grinned mischievously. “Which mystery do you mean, Jo? The disappearance of those people at the cave or the mystery of the blue-eyed boy?”
“Both. Just give me time.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Florence called shortly afterwards as she came from the kitchen with a pot of tea, which she placed on the table beside her mother’s plate.
“Be there in a minute,” called back Jo Ann. “I’m simply starving.”
She took a plain little print dress out of her bag, then jerked off her wet clothes. “Can I—may I—eat barefooted?” she
asked in a muffled voice as she pulled the dress over her head. “It’ll take too long to put on shoes and stockings.”
“When in Mexico do as the peons do,” quoted Peggy, laughing. “That’s your motto, is it? You’ll probably want to use the floor for your table and your fingers for knives and forks, too.”
“No; I haven’t any tortillas to use for knife and fork as they do. Only my feet are peon, anyway, and you can’t see them under the table.” Jo Ann slipped quickly into her place at the table where the others were already seated.
Mrs. Blackwell laughed gaily. “You girls are as good as a tonic,” she declared a little later. “I haven’t laughed so much for months. I feel much stronger today, too. I think I’ll take a short walk later on when it gets cooler.”
Florence beamed as she leaned over and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I knew you’d get well up here. I’m going to write Daddy this very afternoon and tell him what a good patient you are and how much better you look already.”
“You can do that right after dinner,” put in Jo Ann. “I’m going to wash the dishes to make up for running away and leaving you and Peg to get dinner alone. I promise to be good after this.”
“You mean till next time,” laughed Florence.
“Well, of course, when there’s something important—” began Jo Ann.
“We understand, Jo,” smiled Mrs. Blackwell.
CHAPTER VI
A MYSTERIOUS LIGHT
As soon as they had finished eating and the girls had stacked the dishes and carried them to the kitchen, Jo Ann turned to Florence. “Now get out of here, young lady. I told you I was going to wash the dishes. You go and write that letter to your father.”
She caught Florence by the shoulders and playfully pushed her out of the kitchen and across the yard.
“Peg, I might let you wipe the dishes if you’ll promise to be good,” she told her as she returned to the kitchen.
“That’s really quite considerate of you, my dear,” smilingly retorted Peggy. “I appreciate the honor very much.”
Gay chatter accompanied the rattle and clatter of dishes as the two girls made quick work of their dishwashing. As they worked, their conversation drifted back to the subject of the bear and the pigs.
“I can’t imagine living out in a wild, lonesome place like this and not owning a gun, can you, Peg?” asked Jo Ann. Without waiting for an answer she went on: “It’d be a shame to let that old bear come back and get the rest of those pigs when we have a gun and know how to shoot it. I’m going down there this afternoon and look the place over. If I can find a ledge or some place where I can be practically out of danger, I’m going to give Mr. Bear a warmer reception than he’s looking for.”
“I’m not very keen about a bear hunt myself, but if you go, I’m going with you. I have my doubts about Mrs. Blackwell’s letting us go, though.”
Jo Ann let her hands lie idly in the soapy dishwater while she pondered over how to meet Mrs. Blackwell’s objections. “I wonder,” she said finally, “if she would be willing to let us go if we get María’s husband—Juan—to go with us. I believe she would. I heard her say that she thought Juan was one of the most dependable, trustworthy peons she ever knew. We’d be safe enough if he’d go with us, because he’d have his dagger—stiletto, I believe it’s called. The Mexicans’re mighty keen and quick about using them, I’ve heard. Of course, no one’s planning to get at such close quarters with a bear, but if worst came to worst—”
“Don’t mention such a thing,” protested Peggy. “It scares me just to think about it. I’d run for the nearest tree.”
“You would! Don’t you know that’s the worst thing you could do? Never turn your back on a bear. He’s not likely to attack you, if you hold your ground.”
“Well, if you think I’m going to stand perfectly still and let Mr. Bear look me over and decide whether he likes nice juicy white meat as his diet, you’re mistaken. Nothing doing, Jo.”
“Don’t be silly. I’d shoot him before he got near you, anyway.”
“But suppose you missed him?”
“Quit talking such foolishness and wipe the rest of those dishes. Let’s hurry and finish in a jiffy and go on down to the enclosure where they have the pigs and look about for the safest spot in which to wait for Mr. Bear.”
“Well, I s’pose it won’t do any harm to go down and look, but I believe Mrs. Blackwell won’t let—”
“Don’t be a wet blanket, Peg. I’m going to ask her right now, and you’ll soon see that she will.” Jo Ann hastily took her hands out of the dishwater, dried them, and then went over to the door of the bedroom. In another moment she came back. “Mrs. Blackwell’s asleep, so I’ll have to wait to ask her. Florence is sound asleep too. I’m sure Mrs. Blackwell wouldn’t object to our going down now just to look at the enclosure.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Not exactly, but I think I can find it. We’ll follow the path down toward the goat ranch.”
They finished the dishes and put the kitchen in order, then slipped quietly around to the back of the house.
“Here’s the path, Peg. Follow me.” Jo Ann led the way down the path she and Florence had taken the afternoon before.
As they neared the goat ranch Jo Ann began looking for some sign which might lead them to the enclosure.
“It’s bound to be up this way somewhere,” Jo Ann said finally. “Let’s follow this ravine a little ways.”
“But suppose we get lost.”
“We can turn around and go back, can’t we?”
They followed a narrow path leading into the cool, shady depths of a deep ravine, a rugged, precipitous wall towering on their right.
“What a beau-ti-ful place,” breathed Peggy, a few minutes later, as they stopped to rest and cool off.
“Listen! Doesn’t that sound to you like the roar of water?” asked Jo Ann. “The river must not be far away.”
Both girls listened a moment. “It surely does,” agreed Peggy, “but how could that be?”
“We must’ve gone around in a circle and’ll come out not far from our spring. Come on, let’s see.”
They started eagerly up the steep narrow path. A moment later they were startled by the sound of a shrill squeal above the roar of the river.
“Oh, do you suppose the bear’s after another pig?” whispered Peggy, grabbing Jo Ann by the arm. “What’ll we do?”
“I don’t know. I wish I’d brought the gun.”
“Let’s go back,” begged Peggy, but Jo Ann shook her head. “Wait a minute.”
They listened intently a moment, then, to their relief, the squeals changed to contented grunts.
Jo Ann laughed. “Juan must be feeding the pigs, but it did frighten me for a minute.”
A moment later they came in sight of a crude enclosure built against the overhanging wall of the cliff. Tall poles were lashed together around a recess in the wall, making a small circular pen. The next moment they spied Juan working at strengthening a weak place in the wall. It appeared impenetrable, as it was, to them, and they wondered that any animal, even one as large as a bear, could break through such a barricade.
Juan turned from his work as he saw the girls approaching. After the customary salutation he went on in Spanish. “The bear very bad—very ferocious. He like much the pig.”
Jo Ann nodded her head. “Sí, sí—but why can’t we shoot him? I’ll kill him for you.”
Juan shook his head and looked puzzled, and Jo Ann realized he had not understood a word she had said.
She racked her brain for a way to make her meaning clear to him. Finally she picked up a stick and, after pointing to herself, put it to her shoulder and pretended to pull a trigger. “Pling! See! El oso muerto [The bear dead].”
Juan smiled approval; then, jabbering rapidly, he pointed to himself and shook his head.
“No—not you,” Jo Ann tried again, motioning to herself. “Me! See—I’ll shoot him!”
Finally, after
several attempts, she succeeded in making him understand.
But Juan shook his head. “The Señora no like,” he said.
“I know,” agreed Jo Ann, “but if you come with Peg and me”—she pointed to each of them—“I think it’ll be all right.”
For a while Peggy enjoyed watching the pantomime, interrupted now and then with a few English and Spanish words. Never before had she seen anyone go to so much trouble to make herself understood. Jo Ann certainly was a determined person.
After a little, however, Peggy became restless and began gathering some of the dainty little ferns growing at the base of the cliff. She wandered over to the bank of the mountain stream and stood for a few moments watching the water as it rushed and tumbled down the rocky gorge. Then her thoughts drifted back to the bear. She wondered if he could be hiding somewhere near, waiting for a chance to steal another pig.
She glanced nervously about, then called over to Jo Ann, “Aren’t you ready to go? They’ll be wondering what’s become of us.”
“Yes, I’m ready,” Jo Ann called back. “Everything’s all set for the surprise party tonight. See that ledge up there?” She pointed to a narrow ledge about fifteen feet straight up the side of the cliff. “That’s where you and I are going to wait for Mr. Bear. We couldn’t be in any danger there—unless you got scared and tumbled off.”
“But how’re we going to get up there?” Peggy asked quickly. “I’m not a bird or a lizard.”
“That’s easy. Juan’s going to cut notches in a pole for us to climb up on,” explained Jo Ann. “But come on, I’ve got lots to do to get ready for tonight.”
She turned and called to Juan, “Don’t you forget.”
He nodded his head vigorously to reassure her, and then she and Peggy started down the path for home.
“Where on earth have you girls been?” Florence called to them.
“Exploring,” Jo Ann called back.
As soon as they reached the porch Jo Ann began talking as rapidly as her tongue could fly, explaining about Juan’s consent to help them on their bear hunt, the ledge above the enclosure where they could wait in safety, and the other details of her plans. She ended with a vigorous appeal to Mrs. Blackwell: “You’ll let us go, won’t you, now that Juan’s consented to go with us and that we’ll be in no danger? We’ve got to help Juan kill that bear before he gets the rest of the pigs.”
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 75
