The Sasquatch Mystery

briefly.
    “Not even a track,” Jim added. “Ail of us have been tramping around so much that a dozen thieves could have come and gone, mixing their tracks with ours, and we wouldn’t know the difference.”
    “Cap would,” Hallie said loyally.
    “Well, Cap’s not here,” Mart said flatly. “Although I’m sure he soon will be,” he added hastily.
    When appetites were satisfied, reports were given of everyone’s findings so far. It seemed important to Trixie that each person know as much as every other member of the group. Lacking some small bit of information could put the whole group in more danger than they were already facing—and that was quite enough.
    “Well, who’s ready to go to the mine to check up on Tank?” Hallie asked. “We can get back before dark if we don’t waste time.”
    Knut polished his thick glasses. “Hallie, I know you’re worried about Tank, and so am I. But we both know he could have gone out tramping around someplace without locking his door. A bear could have gotten into the cabin and messed things up. It’s happened before. For us, Cap must come first. I think we have to follow every possible clue while the trail is fresh enough to follow. I’m going back over the ground to look for that nugget bag, and then I’m going to check that man with the gun.”
    “Cap was at Tank’s—I found the cookie to prove it!” Diana reminded him.
    “Cap wasn’t attacked by the sasquatch for a bear-grease cookie,” Knut said. “He should be home by this time. Cap’s a loner, but he just wouldn’t leave Hallie and me to worry if he could prevent it. If he could mark his trail, he would. That’s why I keep thinking that nugget bag is a trail marker.”
    He turned on his heel and started across the campground on the trail to the creek. Like the tail on a kite, the rest of the young people, and Miss Trask, straggled along behind.

The Stone-Thrower Again ● 16

    THIS TIME, Knut assigned sections to everyone. Trixie and Honey were left at the scene of the fight between Cap and the monster. Black mud, skunk cabbage, watercress, wild carrots, and a host of unfamiliar plants were a mishmash of color and smells.
    Trixie sat on her heels to study the swampy area. She flinched when a snake darted its tongue, sensing her location. It slid smoothly into a hole under a pine, taking its time. A bluetailed lizard skittered, now here, now gone, as fast as the eye could wink. Noisy nuthatches moved in short jerks over trunks and branches of pines. A woodpecker jarred the air while it drilled for insect larvae. A mouse watched with bright-eyed caution, then disappeared into a patch of ripe grass.
    Trixie absorbed the peace of time and place, even while she tried to sort out what belonged here and what did not. There were the usual beer cans, candy wrappers, soggy cigarettes, and paper matches. Over there was an exposed area of metal, smaller than a penknife. Trixie would have overlooked it but for the way the light slanted. She chose a dry twig and broke it to form a sharp point. Then she walked clear of existing bootprints to poke the stick into wet earth.
    “Honey, I’ve found something!” Triumphantly Trixie exposed a pair of tweezers.
    “That’s a funny thing to find in the wilderness,” Honey said.
    “Yes, isn’t it?” Trixie answered thoughtfully.
    For an hour, the girls poked and prodded the mud and moss that edged the area. When they heard the others returning to camp, they sat on their heels to dip their hands into ice-cold water flowing over pebbles.
    This time it was Honey who said, “I’ve found something, too.” She lifted a bent iced-tea spoon from the running water.
    “At least we’ve found conversation pieces,” Trixie said. “Too bad I can’t think of the right conversation.”
    On the way back to the kitchen area, Honey said, “A fisherman who ties his own flies might have lost the tweezers, but I can’t figure out why anybody would pack iced-tea spoons for a picnic or a campout.”
    “A fancy camper, I guess,” Trixie said.
    “We found the nugget bag!” Mart yelled across the campground.
    “And the stuff the pack rat traded for,” Hallie said. “The bag’s empty,” she added. “That figures,” Trixie said. “Where was it?”
    “Caught in the bushes, right where we found the cookie,” Knut said. “I don’t know how we overlooked it before.”
    “We were too excited about the cookie,” Hallie said. She held out a hand to show what she