The Sasquatch Mystery

with a spoon.”
    .“You eat it, just the same,” snorted Trixie. “Gleeps, Hallie, you look practically cheerful. What gives?”
    “It’s the sasquatch,” Hallie said. “As long as it’s hanging around camp, it isn’t hurting Cap, wherever he is! And there’re nine of us. I don’t think that ’squatch is going to tackle all of us at the same time.”
    “Not with this big fire going,” Knut said.
    “Ssh!” Hallie warned. “I hear a motor.”
    “It’s Ron!”
    Knut and Hallie ran toward the road, forgetting flashlights and ignoring the possible presence of sasquatch and bears, so anxious were they for news of their brother. Soon they came back with a tall, thin boy wearing a red helmet and pushing a motorcycle.
    When hasty introductions had been made, Miss Trask asked, “Did you talk with the sheriff at all, Ron?”
    “Yes,” Ron answered. “He said he wasn’t too worried about Cap yet.” Ron turned to Knut. “Exactly how long has it been since anyone has seen him?”
    “Fifty hours,” Knut moaned. “Fifty hours with a beast! How could Cap have survived?”
    “We’ll wait till morning,” Hallie said, “then we’ll go find him.”
    Knut burst out savagely, “Wait! That’s all I’ve been doing! Waiting for Ron to show up to help us search! Waiting for the sheriff to decide Cap’s in trouble! Waiting for a chance to check up on Tank! Waiting for that guy up the road to shoot somebody! Waiting for the sasquatch to carry off another victim!”
    “Knut,” Miss Trask said gently, “I’m afraid we have no choice but to wait till morning. As long as that animal is nearby somewhere, we’re only safe while we’re here in a group by the fire.”
    “Of course you’re right,” Knut answered dully. “Stay together, keep the fire going, and wait for daylight. What else can we do?”
    “Sheriff Sprute will be here by daylight if I don’t go back and tell him Cap has shown up,” Ron promised.
    “It’s going to be a long night,” Honey sighed.
    It was a long night. Not even Miss Trask was willing to stray the few yards from the fire to her tent. Nobody could think of anything to say worth saying, so they all just sat next to each other, brooding.
    Finally Trixie could take it no longer. “The sasquatch in my imagination is a lot awfuller than the real one has been—so far, anyhow. I’ve got to do something. Maybe it’s too early, but I’m going to make breakfast anyway. Who wants juice and who wants milk?” she asked.
    “I used the last drop of powdered milk we had in the fudge,” Di confessed. “I never even thought about needing it for breakfast.”
    “Well, we can improvise,” Trixie muttered, circling the table to rummage in a food chest. “Where’s the dehydrated orange juice? All I can find is peppermint drops and—”
    “You’re in the wrong hamper,” Knut said. “That’s Tank’s stuff.”
    “And sewing supplies?” Trixie finished. She held up a large spool of thread and a long zipper. “Knut, are you sure you picked up the right order?”
    “I gave Tank’s own list to the clerk,” said Knut. “She filled the order for me.”
    Miss Trask held out a hand. “May I see that, please?”
    Trixie found the orange concentrate and mixed some for everyone, while Miss Trask examined the zipper.
    “This is a heavy-duty zipper, such as one sets in a jacket,” Miss Trask said. “What use would Mr. Anderson have for this?”
    “Tank does his own mending,” Hallie explained. “He makes things, too! When I was a little girl, he made a fur coat for my doll and a muff for me. Remember, Knut?”
    Knut nodded but kept his eyes on the forest. Fur. A light turned on in the dark corners of Trixie’s mind. “Show Ron the fur scraps,” she urged Jim. “Maybe he’ll know what they are.”
    “Know anything about fur, Ron?” Jim asked him as he dug the pieces out of his pocket.
    Hallie hooted. “Does he! Ron’s hobby is taxidermy. He stuffs what Cap can’t mend.”
    “Could this be sasquatch fur?” Jim asked, handing over the scraps.
    “Sasquatch? Wow!” Ron breathed. “That’s what all the scientists are waiting to see.” Ron rolled the largest scrap between sensitive fingers, studied it for a minute in the firelight, then said, “I’m surprised you didn’t sort these out, Knut. Don’t you know what deerhide looks like? See? This is a little strip of deerhide that hasn’t had the hair removed. And these coarse hairs come from a black bear. The only