The Sasquatch Mystery

scrabbled under the seat. She pulled out a flashlight, a tire jack, and a crumpled bar of chocolate. “Oh, here’s something else.” She pulled out a soiled woolen sock. “Yecch!” she waved it at Knut. “Here’s our skunk.”
    Knut glanced, then looked puzzled. “I can’t imagine where that came from. Throw it out.” He added hastily, “No, that’s littering. We’ll have to wait and put it in the trash can when we get to the summit.”
    Trixie dropped the sock to the floor. A bit of green slime clung to her fingers. “Ugh—that’s what smells. What is it?” She held her hand within Knut’s line of vision.
    “A crushed leaf,” he said. “Probably skunk cabbage.”
    Gingerly Trixie wiped her fingers on the sock. Then she held her hand out the window the rest of the way to the summit. Her mental computer was clicking, and she scarcely saw the steep, climbing road or the great expanse of berry-covered mountain. Suddenly she burst out, “Knut, there’s skunk cabbage all along Champion Creek!”
    “It grows in boggy soil,” Knut agreed. “What are you getting at?”
    “The broken egg was near the creek, and so was the bare footprint,” Trixie said, putting two and two together and hoping to get four. “Could that thief have been in our truck?”
    “It’s possible, but I can’t imagine why he’d leave his sock.”
    “Wouldn’t you if it smelled like a skunk?” Trixie countered.
    “Guess you’re right.” He shouted through his window, “Hey, everybody, prepare to land! We have arrived!” Knut wheeled into the large flat space on the pass where several cars, pickups, vans, and motorcycles were already scattered about.
    “I feel as if we’ve reached civilization,” commented Mart as the group jumped from the truck, adjusted hats, and picked up berry pails.
    “Why, Mart,” said Trixie sweetly, “the rest of us are plenty civilized—what’s with you?” Before Mart could retort, Knut spotted a plant near the truck’s front wheels. He broke off a branch and held it out for the New Yorkers to look at. “This is what we’re hunting—huckleberries. Sometimes the plants are about a foot high; sometimes they’re waist-high.”
    “Your waist or mine?” Honey wondered, indicating Knut’s long legs.
    “Mine,” he admitted.
    “Just so long as it’s not Trixie’s!” Mart added, with a wicked grin at his sister.
    “Choose a partner, and don’t get separated,” Knut said hastily. “I’ll take you to a patch; then we’ll scatter out. Yell every few minutes, so we don’t lose voice contact with each other. There are lots of ravines, and it’s real easy to wander around and find yourself on a different mountain. Are you all sure you’ll recognize the berries? They’re small, sweet, and shiny, and they range from blue to black in color.”
    “They look like blueberries,” Mart observed, “but then, all berries look alike to me.”
    “You’ll find blueberries here, too, and whortleberries,” Knut assured him. “They all make good pie. Now, let’s pick!”
    Knut led the little band along the saddle road, then took a deer trail. It plunged downhill so steeply that his head disappeared before Trixie, at the end of the line, was sure which way he had gone.
    “Gleeps,” Trixie muttered, “why do I have this feeling that I'm the one who’s going to end up on another mountain?”

A Very Special Kind of Bear ● 9

    KNUT REAPPEARED shortly, but soon Trixie saw Jim’s red head disappear among prosperous-looking bushes.
    “Honey and I are going on to that fallen log,” she called.
    “Okay, keep yelling,” Jim said, already absorbed in his task.
    Although Trixie was used to working in Crab-apple Farm’s raspberry patch, she didn’t especially care for the tedious task of picking food bite by bite. Thinking about the past days’ adventures made the job seem more pleasant.
    On the other hand, Honey was used to being waited on by servants but didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. She quickly chose a clump of bushes and set to work.
    Trixie moved past her and began to roll the juicy huckleberries into her palm and then into her pail. The pail she carried was one that the Belden boys had made by poking holes in a halfgallon vegetable can and adding a wire bail. It seemed to take forever to cover the bottom of the can with berries.
    While she picked, Trixie appreciated the mountain’s timeless silence. Far, far below she could see a green valley and a meandering