The Mystery of the Black Raven

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  No matter how nice they seem, he thought as he led his little brother across the hall to their room.

  “What do we have to do today, James?” grumbled Mr. Pittman over juice and scrambled eggs the next morning. Even a hearty breakfast couldn’t put him in a good mood.

  Miss Parker rose to Grandfather’s defense. “We should be grateful. James has saved us the trouble of planning. He’s helped us make the most of this trip.”

  Across the table, Mark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled.

  Henry was watching him closely. He believed Mark Pittman might be the key to the mystery.

  “Actually, we’re going on a train ride today,” said Grandfather.

  “Oh, boy!” Benny exclaimed. He loved trains as much as big boats.

  “This will be an all-day excursion,” Grandfather went on. “We’ll see some of the countryside the miners had to hike through to get to the goldfields.”

  “Is there a food car on the train?” Benny wanted to know.

  Grandfather laughed. “No, this is a small steam train without a dining car. The hotel is packing lunches again.”

  Edie Pittman was touching up her lipstick. “I hope they give us better food than last time.”

  “I’m sure the staff will be happy to fix you a different lunch,” Grandfather told her. “They’re used to accommodating special diets. In fact, there’s the bellhop now, with the cart. You can request whatever you like.”

  The white boxes were already packed in the nylon backpacks, but Howie was happy to take one back to the kitchen and have a special lunch fixed for Mrs. Pittman.

  The grown-ups waited in the lobby with their packs while Mrs. Pittman’s lunch was being prepared. Mark and Monique disappeared upstairs to their room.

  The Alden children found Miss Parker alone.

  “How’s the case coming?” she asked.

  “We’re stuck,” Jessie confessed. “We need to know if you still have that letter you showed us.”

  The teacher picked up the gray tote she used as a purse. “It’s in—” Her mouth formed an O of surprise as she checked the side pocket. “It’s gone! My letter is gone!”

  “Are you sure it’s not in your room?” asked Jessie.

  “Yes,” the older woman replied. “After all that’s happened, I keep the letter with me. At least I thought I did.”

  The children looked at one another. This was getting serious. The thief had succeeded in stealing Miss Parker’s letter. What would the thief take next?

  At last the group was ready to leave. They walked down Broadway, turning on Second Street. The weather was gorgeous—sunny, with cloudless blue skies.

  The White Pass and Yukon Rail Depot was also the information center for the Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park. While Grandfather and the other adults purchased tickets, the children wandered around the exhibits. Old photos of sourdoughs and prospecting tools were displayed on the walls and in cases. Then they went back outside.

  Soon a steam engine puffed down the tracks.

  Benny jumped up and down with excitement. “What a cool train!”

  “Yes,” agreed Steve Wilson. “Those old steam trains aren’t anything like modern ones.” He looked excited himself.

  Jennifer giggled when Steve yelled like a conductor, “All abooooarrd!”

  “Pretty good!” said the real conductor. “Step aboard, folks. We’re about to take a trip back in time.”

  “I hope I don’t get sick,” Benny said.

  Jessie laughed as she followed her brother onto the train. “This won’t be like a ride at an amusement park,” she said as they sat down.

  Grandfather sat across from them, letting Violet have the window. “He means we’re going to travel the same path the old-timers did. We have the train to ourselves today.”

  Henry wound up sitting with Monique. Mark found a seat by himself across from them. For once, neither of the Pittman teenagers looked bored. In fact, Henry noticed an excited sparkle in their eyes.

  The engine puffed a huge cloud of steam, tooted mightily, then rolled down the tracks.

  “The trip is almost twenty-one miles long,” the conductor said. “This is the very same countryside the old miners walked, carrying on their backs enough supplies to last for a year. Notice the rugged terrain. It hasn’t changed a bit.”

  The conductor pointed out parts of the original White Pass Trail. Rusted pans and other gear still lay where miners had dropped extra supplies to lighten their load.

  The train wound along the mountain, under tunnels, and over a trestle. The deep gulch below made the passengers gasp.

  “Wasn’t it hard for the prospectors to get over that gulch?” asked Miss Parker.

  “A lot of them didn’t make it,” said the conductor. “The White Pass caused many to turn back.”

  At the summit, the train stopped and everyone got off, taking their packs.

  Jessie, who had sat with Benny, went back onboard to get his sweater. It was chilly on the summit. She saw Monique dawdling down the aisle behind her.

  “I love eating outdoors,” Jessie commented.

  “I hate it,” Monique said. “The wind blows everything around. It’s so messy.”

  Well, I tried, Jessie thought. Apparently nothing pleased the older girl. Whatever excitement Monique had shown at the beginning of the trip had disappeared.

  As they ate, the conductor told them more about the hardships the miners faced. The walk to the goldfields along the Yukon River was six hundred miles. They had to get there before the long winter and build a shelter. Then they waited until spring before they could even start digging for gold.

  All too soon, it was time to reboard the train.

  Violet walked ahead of Grandfather so she could sit by the window again. And then she saw it.

  The scrapbook was lying on Grandfather’s seat.

  “Look!” she cried. “The missing scrapbook!”

  Grandfather picked it up in amazement. “How did that get here?”

  Everyone peppered everyone else with questions. No one knew anything. Violet was as amazed as the others. Someone had deliberately brought the scrapbook with them on the trip. And given it back.

  But why?

  Who would do such a strange thing?

  Jessie looked at Monique, sitting with Henry. Monique had been the last to get off the train. There was enough room in the packs to stash the scrapbook. And Monique had had enough time to take it out and lay it on Grandfather’s seat.

  Then there was Mark’s note. Was this just a prank between two bored teenagers?

  Tomorrow was their last day in Skagway. Only one more day to track down the raven and find out the truth.

  CHAPTER 8

  Great-uncle Edward’s Message

  “Well, it certainly looks like the scrapbook and raven were stolen by someone in our group,” said Miss Parker as she ate her salad. “And my uncle Pete’s letter. But why on earth?”

  Grandfather shook his head wearily. “Who knows?”

  The reunion party had decided to split up for dinner. The Pittmans chose the pizzeria and the Wilsons wanted to dine alone at the Golden North. “To get away from those awful Pittmans,” Jennifer confessed earlier to Jessie.

  The Aldens chose to eat at the Totem Lodge. Grandfather asked Miss Parker to join them. After discussing the train trip, everyone soon began talking about the mystery.

  Grandfather had brought the scrapbook with him. “I’m not letting it out of my sight,” he said, setting the book by his plate.

  “Can I see it?” Violet asked. “I never really had a chance to look at it.”

  “Certainly.” He passed the leather-bound book to her.

  Jessie, Benny, and Henry leaned closer as Violet slowly turned the heavy paper pages. Black triangles attached each corner of the photos to the pages. Captions beneath the pictures were written in white ink.

  “Uncle Edward sure had fancy handwriting,” Benny remarked, trying to read the curl
icued script.

  “It’s like drawing,” said Violet, admiring a capital A that seemed to enclose a bird’s nest in its loops.

  “That’s probably where you get your artist’s talent, Violet,” Henry said.

  “Yeah,” agreed Benny. “From Great-great-great—” He lost track of the “greats.”

  “Just say Uncle Edward,” Jessie said with a giggle.

  The black-and-white photos showed the four miners standing in front of buildings the kids recognized in Skagway. “Only there aren’t any cars,” Benny pointed out. “Just horses.” Later photographs showed the men, who’d all grown beards, posed in front of their claim. Four stacked rocks were distinct in the foreground.

  Jessie nudged Henry. “Look who just came in.”

  Henry didn’t need Jessie to tell him. He could hear the Pittmans before they entered the dining room. Monique and Mark glanced at the Aldens as they followed their parents to a table across the room.

  Howie, who was on duty as busboy that evening, filled the Pittmans’ water glasses.

  Miss Parker commented, “I’m surprised to see them here. I wonder what happened at the pizzeria?”

  “Maybe they ran out of pizza,” said Benny.

  James Alden laughed. “If I were the owner of that restaurant, I think I’d conveniently run out of pizza, too! Those people can be quite trying.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Miss Parker said, smiling. “At least they are well away from us.”

  Jessie took the scrapbook from Violet so she could see the pictures better. As she did, a loose photo fluttered to the floor.

  Before Jessie could bend to pick it up, Howie leaped across the room and scooped up the photo. At the same time, Monique stood up and collided with Howie.

  “Very sorry, miss,” Howie apologized.

  “It’s okay,” Monique said, giving him a dazzling smile.

  Jessie was astonished. Was this the same girl who complained about every single thing? Then she noticed that Monique was staring at the back of the photo. So was Howie.

  “Thanks for getting that for me,” Jessie told Howie, plucking the photo from his fingers.

  He gazed hard at the picture, then said, “Anytime.”

  Monique went out through the doors shaped like totem poles without a word to Jessie.

  “What was that all about?” asked Violet.

  “I’m not sure,” said Jessie. “But I bet it has to do with this picture.”

  The photo showed the men together in town. The two in the center, Edward Alden and Harold Bell, were both holding the raven statue, as if one were trying to take it from the other. The miners were all grinning. On the back, in Edward Alden’s flowing script, was written, “Wrestling for the raven.”

  “It’s just two guys messing around,” said Benny.

  Henry looked at Howie, who was busily clearing a table. “Maybe. The picture sure seemed to catch Howie’s and Monique’s eyes.”

  “Are there captions written on the backs of the other photos?” Violet asked Jessie.

  Carefully Jessie pried a few pictures from their triangular corners. “No,” she pronounced. “Just that one.”

  “I think it’s a message from Uncle Edward,” said James Alden.

  Miss Parker agreed. “A clue from the past. But what does it mean? We don’t have the raven anymore.”

  “We must get it back tomorrow,” said Violet. “If we find the raven, I think this whole mystery will be solved!”

  But would they have enough time? she wondered. Could they solve a baffling case with only one more day in Alaska?

  “The guide is here!” cried Benny. He had been waiting just outside the dining room near the totem pole with the raven carved on it.

  On their last full day, the reunion group was going to hike into the countryside. Grandfather came out of the dining room to shake hands with a young blond man wearing hiking boots and khaki pants with many pockets and flaps.

  “You must be Gil,” said Grandfather. “I’m James Alden. We’re all looking forward to seeing the country on foot.”

  “What kind of pants are those?” said Benny admiringly.

  “Cargo pants,” replied Gil with a friendly smile. “You must be Benny. They probably make these pants in your size.”

  Just then the others filed into the lobby. Gil was introduced to the rest of the reunion party.

  Howie wheeled in the cart with the day packs. When he saw the guide, he ducked his head and quickly distributed the packs, without saying a word.

  Benny made sure he got a red one. His pack contained the white box lunch, a bottle of water, and a tiny first-aid kit. He wondered why Howie was suddenly so shy around them.

  Everyone knew about the last-day hike. Jessie had made sure the Aldens had on comfortable walking shoes and extra sweaters. But Mrs. Pittman had come downstairs wearing high-heeled sandals and a dressy skirt. Jessie bet the woman’s feet would hurt before they had walked far.

  “We’re going to take the Chilkoot Pass,” Gil explained. “That’s the trail the earliest sourdoughs took to the goldfields. You’ve heard it’s six hundred miles long. We’ll only walk about three miles each way. Everybody ready?”

  Monique had been leaning against the totem pole. With a huge sigh, she slouched after her brother.

  The trail began just outside of town. Gil stopped to tell them a little more about it.

  “Prospectors had to carry their supplies on this trail, including enough food to last a year. It took them about three months to reach the Yukon Territory, if they were lucky,” Gil said. “Later, during the Gold Rush, the White Pass was discovered. That trail was longer, but less steep. It’s the one the White Pass and Yukon Railroad is on.”

  “We rode that yesterday,” Benny put in.

  “Great!” said Gil. “Now you can see both trails.”

  Today it was cloudy and chilly. Jessie was glad to have that extra sweater. Monique and Mark walked by themselves, well away from the others. Jessie wondered what they were talking about. They were so deep in conversation, she knew they weren’t listening to the guide.

  “Getting to the goldfields was very difficult,” Gil was saying. “If they didn’t start early enough, they had to wait out the winters in Skagway. If they started too late, they’d be caught in heavy snows. And a simple mistake could sometimes be very dangerous.”

  “Like what?” asked Henry. His long legs easily kept up with Gil’s stride.

  “Like not changing their socks if they got wet,” Gil replied. “Wet socks freeze and soon the person is sick.”

  “Were there any women on the trail?” Jessie asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Gil answered. “They worked in the towns and miners’ camps. They ran hot baths and washed clothes and cooked. One woman earned fifty thousand dollars in seven years by baking apple pies and doughnuts. A miner who’d been eating beans for months would pay almost anything for a good home-cooked meal.”

  “Beans?” Benny repeated. “All they ate was beans?”

  “Beans, bacon, potatoes, and onions. That was the miner’s diet. And sourdough bread, if he had flour.” Gil grinned. “Still want to be a prospector?”

  “Only if I can have ice cream,” Benny said, making the others laugh.

  A large black bird soared across the sky.

  “That’s a raven,” said Gil.

  Violet snapped pictures of the bird. “I thought a raven was like a crow,” she said. “But it’s so much bigger!”

  “Ravens and crows are in the same bird family,” Gil explained. “But as you can see, the raven is the largest. Ravens are very smart. They like to hide bright, shiny objects. And they can talk.”

  “Like parrots?” asked Benny, remembering a parrot on a recent trip to Florida.

  “A parrot sounds like a bird talking,” said Gil. “Ravens can sound like people when they speak.”

  By now the group had hiked until Skagway was just a speck behind them.

  “We’ll stop here,” said Gil.
“To rest and have lunch.”

  They all found a place to sit down and take off their packs.

  “My pack weighs a ton!” Miss Parker said with a laugh. “I can’t imagine carrying a year’s worth of food for six hundred miles!”

  “My feet are killing me.” Edie Pittman kicked off her sandals and rubbed her swollen toes.

  “I told you not to wear those shoes,” her husband said as he rummaged in his pack for the bottle of water.

  “We have first-aid kits in our packs,” Grandfather said helpfully. “You should cover those blisters with Band-Aids, Mrs. Pittman.”

  “I should have stayed at the hotel,” was her sour reply.

  Gil quickly pointed to the distant mountain pass. “Back in the Gold Rush days, an endless line of men climbed the trail, one after the other, every day.”

  “We saw a picture of that,” said Violet. “In one of the museums.”

  Next Gil showed them rusted objects along the side of the trail. “Those are things that were dropped or tossed away by the miners. Those items are now artifacts, protected by the Park Service. Please do not touch or take them, but you can take photographs.”

  Photograph. The word reminded Jessie of Uncle Edward’s message on the back of the scrapbook picture. Why did he only write on that photo and none of the others?

  Then she unzipped her pack and took out her box lunch and bottle of water.

  “Good idea,” said Miss Parker, who sat next to Jessie. She shifted her pack to her lap. “Honestly, it feels like a rock is in here!”

  Jessie and Miss Parker stared at each other.

  “The raven!” Jessie whispered.

  Hurriedly, the teacher unzipped her red pack. “Oh, I certainly hope so! It makes sense—yesterday our mysterious thief returned the scrapbook…”

  She pulled out a rounded lump wrapped in newspaper. The Aldens gathered around as Miss Parker tore off the paper.

  “A plain old rock!” Benny cried in dismay.

  Miss Parker shoved the stone to the ground. “Yes, only a rock.” She looked around at the reunion party. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  If it was, Henry thought, it wasn’t very funny.