The Sasquatch Mystery

Opie Swisher wouldn’t let him stay in the wagon.”
    “Even an Opie Swisher has to draw the line somewhere,” Trixie concurred. “He probably wouldn’t even give him a blanket, so Fred slept in our truck. That’s when he stole our food.”
    “I never did buy that idea of skunk cabbage causing all that stink,” said Hallie.
    Ideas whirled in Trixie’s head as she forged up the path. “By this time, Fred had things going his way. He had us believing the sasquatch was after us. This gave him some extra time to hunt for Tank’s gold. He even had the pack rat working for him!”
    “The pack rat wouldn’t have crossed the creek,” Hallie reminded her. “It doesn’t like water all that much. That means Fred must have hung around the camp when he wasn’t up at Tank’s mine.”
    “I know,” Trixie agreed. “We’re not far from the station wagon. I think Fred kept that suit behind our tents someplace and only put it on when he needed to scare us.”
    “We smelled skunk the night you got your bandage caught in the zipper,” Honey recalled. “That must have been Fred in his suit.”
    “But why did he throw rocks at us?” Di asked plaintively.
    “He knew we weren’t armed, and he was still playing the sasquatch game,” Trixie told her. “I can see that quite clearly, but I don’t know what Opie was guarding with his shotgun.”
    “Fred, of course!” Hallie said. “Fred was back there in the bushes, getting ready for Halloween. We got the full bag of tricks a few minutes later, when he chased us down the road.” They scrambled along in silence for a while; then Ron sighed, “This trail is a man-killer.”
    “A lady-killer, too,” Hallie retorted. She stopped so quickly that Trixie ran into her. “Ssh— there’s the cabin! All the lights are on, and there’s no sound.”
    Trixie found her way by the dim morning light to the window of Tank’s bedroom. Empty. She was puzzled by a strange creaking sound, like tree limbs rubbing together in the wind. She crept on to the window over Tank’s sink and found Hallie there ahead of her.
    Hallie said, “Ssh!” and pointed.
    Making sure her face was shielded by the deerhide Tank used for a window drape, Trixie looked. Minus his sasquatch masquerade, Fred Swisher knelt on the floor. He had already removed one wide, solidly pegged floorboard. He was working on another.
    “Dumb,” Hallie muttered. “Tank wouldn’t hide gold in a place so hard to get at.”
    “How are we going to capture Fred?” Trixie whispered.
    “There’s just one door,” Hallie said, with a strange look on her face. Without waiting for the group to form a plan of action, she rushed up to the door and jerked it open.
    With a snarl of rage, Fred raised a long metal bar and stood up. “Out kind of early, ain’t you?”
    “No earlier than you,” Hallie retorted coldly. “Where’s Tank?”
    “Tank who?”
    “You know Tank who. The owner of this cabin. What did you do with him? And where's Cap?” Hallie completely lost her temper. She yelled and lunged toward Fred, prepared to throttle him with her bare hands.
    With a little cry of fear for Hallie’s safety, Trixie, Honey, and Di followed Hallie. Fred threw the lever. It missed Trixie and Honey, but grazed Di’s boot tops.
    “Go get your slingshot!” she yelled with unexpected spirit.
    Fred’s face twisted with anger. He reached for a floorboard.
    From Tank’s doorway, Ron warned, “Hold it, Fred. Stay right where you are.” In one hand, Ron carried a coil of rope. In the other, he balanced Tank’s ax.
    “Get out of my way,” Fred growled.
    The girls backed up hastily. Diana stumbled against a footstool. Eyes on Fred, Trixie jerked Diana to her feet.
    Trixie saw that Fred was advancing on Ron. With both hands, she picked up the footstool and threw it with all her strength. It hit Fred in the back of one knee. When it buckled from the unexpected blow, Fred stepped into the long narrow slot he had torn in Tank’s floor.
    In that split second when Fred’s hands swung out to balance himself, Hallie snatched up a pail and clamped it over Fred’s head. Honey jumped forward to help Hallie hold it on Fred’s head. Di dived for the lever.
    “We’ve got him, Ron!” Honey cried. “Tie him up.”
    “Here, Trixie, do the honors,” Ron said. “I’ll stand guard.”
    While Fred yelled threats that echoed inside the pail, Trixie tied the man’s hands and ankles together.
    “Just in time,” Trixie said.
    She