The Mystery in Arizona

loathsomeness both the flesh-eating allosaur and his larger vegetarian cousin, the diplodocus.”
    Honey turned around to face Mart then. “If you have to use all those big words, why don’t you think up some pleasant ones? I don’t want to hear any more about dinosaurs. Please! I don’t even like the harmless lizards, though I once saw a chuckwalla that looked kind of cute—from a distance.”
    Mart nodded. “I shall tame one for you along with the horned toad, which is another friendly little lizard. Each of you squaws may expect to find a pet in the toe of your stocking on Christmas mom.”
    “Oh, fine!” said Trixie sarcastically. “I’m going to fill your stocking with prickly pear cacti just for fun.”
    “Why, thank you,” replied Mart. “All contributions gratefully received. Could I, perhaps, induce you to present me with a super specimen of the giant saguaro cactus? One that is fifty feet high and weighs not less than ten tons?” He turned to Honey. “You might join with Trixie in giving me this small present. If you do, pick out one that is filled with woodpeckers and owls. As you may or may not know, they nest in this variety of cactus.”
    “Let’s pay no attention to him,” Trixie said in a loud whisper, “and maybe he’ll go away. Besides, we’re not going to hang up our stockings or give each other presents until we go home. This year we Beldens are going to celebrate Christmas at New Year’s.”
    “Really?” Di and Honey asked in one voice. “I’m afraid you’ll have to celebrate Christmas at Tucson, too, Trix,” Honey added. “There’s sure to be a gala party on Christmas Eve at the ranch. And Di’s uncle will be awfully disappointed if we don’t give and receive some presents there on Christmas Day.”
    “That’s right,” Di agreed. “You Beldens can buy one another little presents in the ten-cent stores.”
    “Not me,” Mart interrupted firmly. “I insist upon a huge saguaro. Its blossom is the state flower of Arizona, for your information. Just as the yucca blossom is the state flower of New Mexico. Indian squaws used to gather the hearts of the yucca, which is a member of the lily family, and bake them. You squaws might well emulate diem and thus produce a succulent Indian dish on one of our forthcoming desert picnics.”
    “He’s insane,” Trixie hissed. “In his imagination he has been roaming the desert for days and days, alone and on foot, having previously killed and eaten his horse. Crazed with thirst, he will pounce upon the first barrel cactus he sees, cut off the top, and drink the liquid he squeezes from the pulp. As they always say in Spanish, he is el hombre loco, ‘the crazy guy.’ ”
    “No, no,” Mart argued, “I am merely a cacto-maniac. For the simple reason that I promised my English teacher that I would write an erudite article on that extremely fascinating subject.”
    “That reminds me,” Brian broke in. “I couldn’t help overhearing some of the interesting things our stewardess was telling you girls a while ago. Don’t you think you’d better make some notes for your theme, Trix? The sooner you get going on it, the sooner Jim and I can start correcting your grammatical errors.”
    Trixie turned around to glare at him. “How do you know I’m going to make any grammatical errors? And in case you’re interested, I’ve already done enough research so I can write reams and reams about the Navahos any time I feel like it.”
    Mart shook his forefinger under her pert nose. “A slight exaggeration, to put it mildly. Why, little one, must you always pick subjects about which you know nothing?”
    Trixie sniffed. “You don’t know much about cactus. I’ll have you know that those yucca hearts which you crave have to be baked between heated rocks for three days. Apache women may have hovered over a hot stove for that length of time, but no woman in this day and age would think of such a thing.”
    Mart shrugged. “If you know so much about Apaches, why did you pick Navahos? However, I am very well informed on the subject, so you feel free to seek my advice at any time when I am at leisure. For the small fee of a dollar an hour, that is.
    Trixie snorted with disgust. “Go find another bonanza.”
    “A what?” Di demanded curiously. “Are you talking about some of those awful lizards?”
    Mart chuckled. “A bonanza is nothing for you to be afraid of, Di. If you were a miner and found one, it would mean that you had