The Sasquatch Mystery

nugget bag had to be nearby put new heart into the group’s search of the campground. Still, they were able to turn up nothing more interesting than beer bottles and several cans.
    When they reached the sturdy wooden bridge that spanned Champion Creek, Knut said, “I think I’ll go on to the river. Remember that guy that ate up half our biscuits? He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to clear out. Maybe he stayed and saw Cap.”
    “Or the sasquatch,” Di fretted.
    Hallie scowled but didn’t scold. She simply shrugged. Trixie hid a smile. When Hallie had visited Crabapple Farm, she had been “best friends” with Di. Even here, in an Idaho forest, Hallie had chosen Di for a tentmate. So what does that prove? Trixie asked herself. So far as I can see , it proves that Hallie adjusts to a mansion better than Di copes with a forest. But that doesn’t change the fact that Hallie and Di really like each other. It’s a good thing they do, because we’ve enough trouble as it is.
    “Come on, Di,” Hallie said. “Let’s mosey up the road and see what became of that invisible truck from last night.”
    “What does a truck have to do with anything?” Di grumbled.
    “Maybe nothing,” Hallie admitted. “It just bothers me to know that Knut didn’t meet it, when there’s only one road. The driver might have seen Cap.”
    “It must be close to lunchtime.” Di tightened her belt to show how lank she felt.
    “Just wait till we find the truck,” Hallie promised. “Keep your eyes peeled, and you may be eating that peanut butter sandwich sooner than you think.”
    Trixie and Honey fell into step with Hallie and Di, while Mart, Brian, and Jim tramped in the other direction with Knut.
    With every step they took, Hallie and Di kept up an edgy give-and-take that just missed being an argument. Neither Trixie nor Honey interfered with what they both recognized as merely nervous chatter.
    About a mile from the Champion Creek bridge, Hallie suddenly lengthened her stride.
    “I said I’d walk,” Di complained. “I didn’t agree to run.”
    “Look! I think we’ve found it!” Hallie said as she moved even faster up the road.
    Trixie, too, saw the spot where the shoulder of the dirt road had been cut by spinning wheels.
    The four girls pushed through a tangle of syringa, thimbleberry bushes, and blackberry canes to find an old station wagon parked well off the road. An average passerby would never have noticed it.
    The girls walked around the station wagon and peered into its cluttered interior. Dirty pillows and blankets were tumbled in a heap, along with a pick, a shovel, and several smaller tools that included a gold pan.
    “I think we’ve found a sniper,” said Hallie. “Say, haven’t we seen this crate someplace? It looks familiar.”
    “Gleeps!” Trixie said. “This wagon belongs to Opie Swisher. He’s that man who stopped at our camp with all those kids—the one who wanted us to baby-sit while he sneaked off to kill a sasquatch.”
    “We should have taken him up on that deal,” Hallie muttered darkly.
    “Anyway, he’s close enough to help us if we need him,” Di said.
    “What can he do?” Hallie scoffed.
    “If he wanted to shoot a sasquatch, he must have a gun!” Di reasoned.
    “Well, Hallie, you’ve found the ‘truck’ you were looking for,” said Honey. “I think we’d better head back. Maybe Cap has found his way home.”
    Hallie started immediately back through the thimbleberry and syringa bushes to the road. But when Di got her hair caught in the underbrush, Hallie was the first one there to help her get it untangled. Trixie was surprised at how very patient and cheerful Hallie was as she worked on the snarl in Di’s black hair.
    “You should see the syringa in June,” said Hallie. “It’s Idaho’s state flower. It’s white and waxy and smells like orange blossoms. In fact, it’s called mock orange.”
    “If these bushes make orange blossoms, remind me not to have them at my wedding,” said Di.
    While Hallie and Honey were freeing the last strands of Di’s long hair, Trixie lingered behind for a closer look at the station wagon. She could still feel the stiff resistance Cap had put up against this man’s wish to “murder” the beast.
    Scowling, Trixie circled the wagon one more time.
    It was just by chance that she noticed a snag of fur caught in a door. Trixie pulled out the scrap. Even without checking, she knew that it had to match the fur that had been snagged in