The Sasquatch Mystery

thought hands instead of paws when that beast had stood up? And why did the odor of rotten fish linger to mix with the sickening sweetness of crushed huckleberries and the turpentine of pine needles?
    Flies, gnats, and yellow jackets buzzed annoyingly, attracted by the crushed berries and the damp, salty fear on her skin. Trixie forced herself to stand. Clinging to the dangling small branches of the pine tree’s limb, she gazed up at the distance she’d come in a few heartbeats’ time. Nothing looked familiar to her. There was only one safe way back to the others in her group, and that was up that slippery log chute!
    Trixie took a cautious step and discovered that the soles of her boots would grip the chute if she stepped firmly enough.
    Before she could go any farther, she just had to do something about those slivers. Using fingernails and teeth, Trixie picked out the three most painful pine slivers. Then she gritted her teeth and began the climb up the long, steep, hot route that she had come down at such breakneck speed.
    With each three or four inching steps, she paused to watch for the beast. She had heard that a bear staked out a claim on a mountain. Whether bear or sasquatch, it might return to assert its ownership.
    Trixie could only keep climbing. Although keenly aware of fatigue, she stubbornly duck-walked the edges of the chute. Occasionally she fell. Once she slid back downhill but managed to stop herself, even though her hands were rubbed raw. She didn’t dare return to that toppled tree. That—that thing might have slept off its bellyful of huckleberries. It wouldn’t respond so peaceably to a second tornado.
    Finally—finally!—Trixie heard the faint sounds that let her know the others were hunting for her.
    “I’m over here!” she screamed frantically. Here, 'ere, 'ere! said the echo.
    A thrashing among the bushes made Trixie cower down in the chute, clinging with all her strength lest she slide again. Suddenly Knut appeared just a few feet away.
    “Where in blazes have you been?” he hollered, his glasses crooked on his face. Leaves and twigs tangled the bird wings of his black hair.
    His eyes, like Brian’s, were great dark holes in his skull. “And what are you doing in that log chute?”
    Trixie tried to reach out to her cousin but fell from sheer exhaustion. Only Knut’s quick leap and snatch kept her from sliding again. Weakly, she clung to her cousin’s neck. “Oh, Knut, if I g-go d-down there again, I’ll just d-d-die!”
    “Okay, okay,” he said, gentle once again. “Let me help you.”
    Trixie felt her feet touch ground. She sat and put her head between her knees.
    “Well,” Knut said after a pause, “at least you came back up the way you went down. Uh, why did you slide down the log chute?”
    “It w-wasn’t intentional,” Trixie assured him. Knut grinned comfortingly. “You’re not the first person to make like a log and go down a mountain. Come on, let’s get to the first-aid kit and fix up those abrasions. How about a piggyback ride to the truck?” he asked, turning around and stooping.
    Trixie objected that she was too heavy, but Knut told her, “Carrying you in my arms would be even more awkward.”
    When Knut strode into the parking area with Trixie on his back, Honey, Hallie, Mart, Jim, and Brian let out a welcoming shout.
    “Are you hurt?” Brian immediately wanted to know. “You look—”
    “Awful,” Trixie guessed. “Gleeps, Brian, I think I’m basically all right. It’s just my hands that are killing me.”
    Honey held one hand, Jim the other, while Brian examined them.
    “You won’t perish of blood poisoning,” he decided. “And just as soon as we reach camp, I’ll clean these abrasions with hot water and get those splinters out.”
    Trixie agreed wholeheartedly. Sticky and sore, she wanted a whole bath more than anything else in the world. And she wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and run the film of her adventure through her brain to see if she could make sense of it. Maybe she had seen a bear... maybe just a very special kind of bear... maybe....
    Brian helped Trixie into the cab, everyone else climbed aboard, and Knut started up the truck. About two miles from camp, he went around a curve and slammed on screeching brakes. One hand went out to keep Trixie from going through the windshield. Then he leaped out of his seat.
    Trixie gasped, then shook her head to clear her vision.
    There was Miss Trask. And clutching her arm was