The blue-stone mystery (8 page)

Another canyon lay before her. She would cross this one, anyway. Going down into it was easy. She found a path that had been worn several inches deep in the soft rock by the passage of generations of Indian feet. At the bottom she saw with deUght that it led directly to a small stream flowing through a ribbon of trees and flowers.

She and Clover gratefully drank the cool, clear water. Then they sat down to rest in the shade of a rustling tree. Its leaves swung and glistened in the sunlight.

"I think we'd better go back to the lodge. Clover, if we can find the way," Karen decided.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she brushed them away. Too late she remembered Mr. Allen's warning about wandering around alone. She knew now that she was hopelessly lost, but she refused to admit it even to herself. Her lips trembled as she said bravely, "Maybe Daddy will be at the ranch when

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I get back. He'll find the boys. But TU rest a little while first. You had better lie down, too, Clover." She stretched out on the soft grass with Clover beside her. Five minutes later she was asleep.

chapter Nine

Outwitted

While Karen dozed, Chip and Pedro raced across a mesa two miles away. Mr. Crowe and Rip desperately chased after them. The boys dodged in and out of the thick brush — brush that helped their escape by slowing the horses of their pursuers.

"There, Chip! That's the trail," Pedro panted. "Hide —under that fallen tree! Follow the blazes.

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It's up to you now. If you hear me call, don't come. Fm fooling. Adios!

Chip scrambled under the thick trunk of a dead tree that lay beside the path. Quickly he pulled some branches over him. He tried to breathe quietly, although his heart seemed to pound in his throat. The sharp points of a pine cone pricked his back. He had to grit his teeth to keep from slapping at a beetle that walked across his hand. The smell of dust and sun-warmed juniper enveloped him. Horses crashed through the underbrush.

Pedro's voice called, "Here, Chip! This way!"

Chip started, and, just in time, remembered what Pedro had told him. He tried not to move a muscle as Rip yelled nearby, "They're over there!"

The horses snorted and wheezed as they passed close to his hiding place. Mr. Crowe's threatening voice was loud. "When I get hold of those kids . . ."

Gradually silence settled around the fallen tree as Pedro led the men farther away. Chip pushed the branches off and listened. He rubbed his back where the pine cone had scratched him. Then he crawled out, brushing off the dirt and pine needles. He found the trail, and set off at a dogtrot for the ranch.

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Pedro almost laughed as he stopped behind a tree to catch his breath. Two hundred yards back he could just see the heads of the rustlers as they spurred their horses through the tough, clinging branches. He saw with pleasure that their faces were red and shining with perspiration. Turning, he ran across an open space waving his arms and shouting, "Come on. Chip!'' As the men bellowed at the sight of him, he ducked behind a screen of bushes, circled around, bent over double, and crossed the clearing again.

"They're both there," Rip yelled, pointing with his whip. "Let's git 'em."

Pedro was enjoying himself. He was at home here on the plateau. It was made to order for this kind of game. He led the men farther and farther down the mesa, calling occasionally, first in English, then in Spanish, to make them think that he and Chip were together. His aim was twofold — to keep them away from the trail so that Chip could reach the ranch and get help, and to keep the rustlers so busy they couldn't move the cattle. He doubled back and forth across the wide mesa, always staying where there was plenty of cover. But, finally, after an hour of steady action, he began to tire.

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"I'd better find a hiding place myself," he thought. "Chip must have reached the ranch by now. Maybe Mr. Allen's bringing men back for the steers. Where can I go? Oh, yes. The next canyon. The very place. At least, I think it's the next canyon. They'll never find me there."

He looked back. The riders had separated, clearly planning to trap the boys against the edge of the mesa. Pedro quickly chose a place and slid down the steep bank in a cloud of dust. At the bottom he waited until he saw Mr. Crowe reach the rim of the canyon and look over.

He called, "That's right. Chip. Right in there," and disappeared into a nearby thicket. He knew that it would take some time for the men to find a slope where the horses could get down. He ran across to the base of the other wall. In this canyon, as in many of the others, the north side showed rows of small and large caves, hollowed out by weather and by pre-historic man. The one Pedro remembered should be along here somewhere. He searched with his eyes in both directions. Where was it?

Behind him he heard the shouts of his pursuers as they found a way down into the canyon. He would have to hurry. He had to find that cave. If

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he went much farther east, he would have to leave the shelter of the trees. The men were gaining on him now. Pedro broke into a run. Perhaps it was around the bend ahead. If it wasn't, he would surely be caught. There was nothing beyond but cactus and chamisa.

The men saw him as he ran across the open ground and vanished around a curve of the canyon wall. They spurred their horses. "We've got em now, boss," Rip cried.

Two minutes later the riders rounded the bend expectantly. Then they pulled their horses to a stop. They stared ahead, completely baffled. Instead of two fleeing boys, there was nothing! No shelter, no hills, no trees, and no boys! The canyon widened out and they could see for half a mile ahead. The only possible places for concealment were the shallow caves along the wall.

"No, they don't! Not again," Mr. Crowe said, as he began to search the caves. He and Rip went through them systematically, trying to discover a back room large enough to offer the boys a refuge. All they found was a startled lizard that scurried away among the cactus plants.

Rip scratched his beard. "They just plumb dropped off the earth/'

They remounted their horses. Mr. Crowe shook his head in bewilderment. "I can't understand it. They couldn't have climbed back up on the mesa. There wasn't time." Puzzled, he turned his horse completely around while he scanned the canyon. He shook his head again.

Suddenly, with his typically abrupt change of

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mood, he said, "We sure can't spend any more time looking for them. The trucks will be there to meet us pretty soon now. WeVe got to move those cattle. Might as well forget about the kids. It'll take them a long time to get back to the ranch from here. Let's go!

He wheeled his tired horse and rode back the way he had come, followed by Rip. The little cowhand still scratched at his whiskers.

He muttered to himself, "Cricky! Suppose they crawled in a gopher hole?"

While the men talked, Pedro lay flat in a long, narrow cave behind a rock shelf twenty feet above their heads. Hearing every word, he grinned happily at their confusion. He didn't dare to move. He was afraid he would knock down a piece of loose stone and give away his hiding place.

After the men left, he stayed where he was while he contemplated the task of getting down from the cave in the same manner he had climbed up. Even when a person knew what to look for, it was difii-cult to see the small depressions in the rock that had enabled Pedro to reach the high cave. Men had

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hollowed them out of the wall many centuries before to form toe and hand holds by which an agile person could climb up to the cave. Pedro's refuge had served as a lookout, a hiding place, and a fine defensive position during tribal wars.

Pedro, in his haste to escape, had swarmed up the primitive ladder as quickly as any cave-dweller pursued by enemies in times gone by. But getting down was another matter. After thinking about it, he took off his shoes and socks and tossed them to the ground. Then he let himself down over the edge slowly, pressing tightly against the warm rock. He felt with his bare toes for the first hollow. Finding it, he lowered himself carefully, groping for the next one, and then the next, never letting go with one hand or foot until the other had a good grip. He was perspiring and shaking with strain when he finally got down far enough to drop safely to the ground.

While he was putting on his shoes and socks, he wondered if Chip had managed to give someone a message about the rustlers. Soon it would be too late to catch them. Another hour or so and they would be gone. There were hundreds of places for

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them to hide safely until dark without having to go very far. They certainly had a lot of nerve, though, to move the cattle during the day. Well, he had done all he could. He started slowly up the canyon toward the lodge. Who knew what would happen now? Quien sabe? He sighed. Mr. Crowe was right. It was a long way back to the ranch.

* chapter Ten

Lost and Found

Karen awoke and sat up quickly, her heart beating fast. What sound had wakened her? She did not hear anything now. She looked at her watch. She had been sleeping for almost two hours! She must try to find her way back to the ranch. Perhaps the boys were there now — or she could get help to look for them. She called, "Clover! WeVe got to go now. Where are you?"

The Blue-Stone Mystery

Then she heard the sound again. It was a faint, frightened barking that seemed to come from the diff itself. That was Clover! Where was she? Karen ran to the piles of rock that lay at the base of the canyon wall. She called again, and listened for Clover's response. It didn't sound much closer. She searched along the cliff, crawling over boulders, skinning her hands and knees on the rough surfaces.

"Clover!"

This time the barking seemed louder. She skirted around a great fall of rock that had been dislodged by an earthquake from the face of the cliff above. "Clover! Clover! Come here!"

Back and forth the girl went, trying to find her dog. After ten anxious minutes, she noticed a small opening between two of the huge stones. Getting down on her knees, she peered into the darkness.

"Clover?" Now the answering yelps were plain. "Come on out of there." Clover only whined. "What's the matter? Are you stuck?"

In as clear a way as possible the dog told Karen that she could not get out.

"Maybe I can get in there to help you. Good thing I'm little."

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Karen lay down and inched into the opening. Then she began to wriggle her way back between and under the rocks. She didnt stop to wonder what would happen if she were trapped, too. Fortunately, there seemed to be more space the farther back she went. Light filtered faintly through cracks overhead. It almost seemed as if the rocks had been piled up on purpose to make a sort of tunnel. Calling every few minutes, she crawled and pulled herself twenty-five feet through the rockslide. At last Clover's barking was so close that Karen was startled. She heard the dog s toenails scratching on stone. Straining her eyes, she tried to see in the gloom. It was much darker back here. She put out a hand . . . and fell flat on her stomach! There was no floor ahead!

She felt in front of her carefully. There was a drop-off there. She inched slowly to the edge and looked down. It was too dark to see anything below.

"Clover?" she called, reaching out into the shadows. Suddenly she jumped as a cold nose touched her fingertips. "Oh, you rascal! How did you get down there? You're a naughty dog. Come on. Let me lift you out."