The Sasquatch Mystery

she would be when she put her head on her pillow, and where she would be when she woke up the next morning.
    “Just where are we, anyway?” she asked finally. “Gleeps, we went around so many curves after we left Wallace this morning, I decided you were taking us to the moon.”
    Cap chortled. “We did, cousin. We took you to the Moon and kept right on going.”
    Trixie frowned.
    Knut reached over to gather both her hands for a quick, reassuring squeeze. “The pass is called Moon,” he explained. “There’s a mountain named Moon, too, and a creek. Cap’s just trying to rattle you.”
    “Like a birdbrain,” Hallie added.
    “We’re in northern Idaho’s ,” Knut went on. “You may have seen the trail signs as we drove in this morning. Most of the northern half of Idaho is covered with the largest stand of virgin white pine remaining in the United States. This area is divided into five national forests. The Kaniksu and the Coeur d’Alene stretch from the Canadian border to the mining region. Next comes Joe, covering all that space between the Bitterroot Range on Montana’s border to the wheatlands on the west. The mines are largely in the Coeur d’Alene
    Mountains. The next mountain range south is called the St. Joe. The forest keeps marching south to cow country.”
    As Knut stood to point out the compass points in the sky, his shadow grew to monstrous proportions and moved crazily when the flames leaped. Trixie had a momentary vision of a prehistoric man claiming his territory. She sensed that these Idaho cousins’ hearts were anchored in this rocky land just as firmly as her own family’s roots were in Crabapple Farm and the Hudson River valley.
    “All around us,” Knut said quietly, “there are peaks that belong to eagles, and valleys where animals aren’t afraid of men. There’s mystery and treasure, adventure, danger, and quiet that stretches from earth to sky.”
    “That sounds like poetry,” Miss Trask said. “And I’ll bet it isn’t Shakespeare,” added Honey.
    “It isn’t,” Knut admitted. “Thank you.”
    “Any of you guys smoke?” Cap asked.
    “No” was the prompt reply from both girls and boys.
    “Good,” Cap said. “Welcome to Joe Country.” After Knut sat down again, Trixie said, “Pinch me, somebody! I must be dreaming. I don’t have to feed those stupid hens when I
    wake up tomorrow!” She joined the chuckle at her expense. Nobody could accuse Trixie Belden of enjoying chores. Mystery was her interest, first, last, and always—and, oh, this Joe Country must hold a thousand unsolved mysteries. Why else was the blond fuzz standing up on her bare forearms?
    At that moment, an eerie cry that originated at the head of the canyon hit unseen cliffs and echoed endlessly: fleep... fleeoweep-p-p-p!
    Cap jumped up and began feeding the fire with reckless haste.
    “You’re using the morning kindling,” Hallie objected.
    “So what?” Cap shot back.
    “Don’t be a birdbrain!”
    “Look, I cut this. I can split more.” Fire gobbled the dry pitch Cap threw. Light increased in intensity, and so did Cap’s effort.
    Without understanding why, Mart, Brian, and Jim began to throw on all the dry, small wood scraps they could find in the circle of light. Knut moved to the outer edge of the lighted area and stared up the dark slot of the canyon.
    Trixie hunched alone on the log Knut and Jim had deserted. She was sure she would hear that cry again.
    She did. This time it came from some spot just beyond those white rocks. When she pulled in her breath to keep from screaming, she choked on the nauseating smell-taste of rotten fish and dead field mice.

Lonely Vigil ● 2

    A COUGAR SCREECHED at the same time that Hallie choked, “What is that gosh-awful smell?”
    “A carcass,” Knut said.
    “A bee trap,” Cap corrected him quickly.
    Again Trixie saw her cousins having an eye conversation.
    Along with the rest of the campers, the usually unflappable Miss Trask was openly gagging. “Well, which is it?” she asked.
    Knut hesitated, then said, “Cap’s usually right about things in the woods. Yes, it’s a bee trap.”
    “We’ve been here most of the day setting up camp,” Hallie said flatly. “I didn’t see another car nearby. I didn’t hear another car. Not even a motorcycle. So who set a bee trap?”
    Knut adjusted his glasses and waited for Cap to speak.
    Cap strolled to the outer edge of the fire circle. “A fisherman, maybe, while he cleaned his trout. Or