Ten Mile Treasure

by Andre Norton

  However, Perks refused to be disappointed. "I found it first and it's real!" she repeated. Rubbing it back and forth across the leg of her jeans she brushed the last grain of sand from it and then stowed the piece away in her shirt pocket.

  Neal made the next discovery—a perfect arrowhead this time. But Toliver turned up something else—a piece of black cord that broke in his hand. From it fell some white objects. He poked at them with one finger but did not pick them up. Libby bent over to look closer.

  "Teeth!" She was startled.

  "Teeth?" Christie echoed. What were teeth doing here?

  "Cougar, maybe." Toliver still poked at them. "And that—that's from a deer. I think this must have been a necklace. See? They were all strung on this rotted cord."

  "Let's have a look!" Neal crowded in"beside him. "Say, that's great. How many are there? Be sure we get them all—we can string them again."

  But Toliver made no move to pick them up. Only Neal started grubbing away in the gravel to collect the scattered teeth. A moment later he looked up wonderingly at the Navajo boy. "Hey, don't you want these?"

  "No." Toliver stood up and walked back a pace or two. "They are medicine things."

  "Medicine things?" Christie asked. "You mean like pills or measle shots? How can teeth be medicine? You swallow those and they would hurt your stomach."

  "The Old Ones"—Toliver had a strange look on his face now—"they believed differently from the way we do. They had things they thought gave them power—good luck. If a warrior killed a cougar, then he might wear its teeth. He felt he was stronger, like some of the animal's power was now in him. It was a sign of his bravery, but also of the cougar's courage and cunning. When a man went on the war trail, he wore necklaces like this one to make him braver."

  "Yeah." Neal sat back on his heels, still holding the teeth he had gathered.' 'I read about that. Indian boys went out by themselves to have dreams. They weren't allowed to eat until they dreamed about something—an animal, maybe. Then this animal was to help them somehow."

  "Some tribes did that, yes. Others had different ways," Toliver answered. "But a necklace such as this—it was truly a medicine thing."

  Neal juggled the teeth from one hand to the other. Christie could tell that he wanted them very much. Then he glanced up at Toliver, who stood there quietly as if he were waiting for something important to happen. Neal got to his feet quickly and walked over to where there was a deep bank of sand. Scooping a hole in that, he dropped the teeth in and covered them over with a sweep of his fingers.

  He did not say anything, nor did any of the others. They just went back to picking over the gravel and soon found two more arrowheads. To his delight Parky chanced on a well-shaped whole one. Then Perks asked for a drink and said she was hungry. So they went back to where they had left the picnic basket in a small shaded pocket. Baron had given up trying to frighten the chuckawalla out of hiding and had gone off exploring, once sending a bird squawking angrily out of a hole in a saguaro.

  Shan was lying in the shade, watching the dog lazily as if he knew Baron was never going to catch anything interesting. Christie fastened the cat's leash to a rock and put out food and water for him.

  It was getting a lot hotter and she began to feel as if she did not want to go back and grub in the sand. Then Baron started barking very loudly and urgently once more, and Parky and Perks ran to see what he was after. Christie, mindful of needing to watch them, followed reluctantly.

  The big dog was circling around a huge untidy mass on the ground, a mound almost as tall as Christie herself. It looked like a rubbish heap. There were pieces of dried cactus, bits of bleached wood, some twisted strings that might have been leather that had laid out in the open a long time, hunks of withered grass. Scattered all over it were spikes of cactus, as if set there on purpose to warn off any investigation.

  "Wood rat nest," Libby explained as she joined Christie. "They carry off all kinds of things to build it. Look here—" She stooped to pull at an end of rag caught on one of the thorns. It came apart as had the old thong Toli-ver had found. "That's real old."

  "But there's a tin can," Christie pointed. "Where would they find that?"

  "Hunter's camp, maybe, or they could even have brought it all the way from the station. No use you making such a noise," Libby told Baron. "Old man rat isn't going to come out and say howdy to you!"

  "Don't touch anything," Christie warned the twins. "See all those thorns? Get those in your fingers and they would really hurt."

  "Rat knows that," Libby laughed. "It's his way of keeping the roof on his house."

  "What's this?" Christie had started to turn away when she caught sight of something entangled in the mess. She leaned over and picked at it carefully, trying hard to avoid the spines. But when she tried to tug free what she held, she discovered that the rest must be deeply embedded in the nest. It looked like leather, perhaps part of a belt.

  Toliver worked the find loose, suffering stabs from two thorns in the process. When he straightened it out on the ground, they were all excited.

  "Belt and pistol holster!" Neal cried as if he could hardly believe it. "It must be old!"

  "Sure is," Toliver agreed. "Guess it's so dry in here that the leather didn't rot. This might even be for a Colt .45. Dad would know. And if that's true you've got yourselves a good show piece for your museum."

  Where did it come from? Christie wondered. The station? Or was this a place where there had really been a fight—like those Pinto talked about? She glanced around with a little shiver. A man just wouldn't leave his gun belt unless he had no more use for it—she could guess that much. Suddenly she wanted to go home, but she would not say so.

  Neal prowled around the edge of the nest, peering into the mass in search of other treasures. Perks pulled at Christie's hand.

  "That's just a dirty old thing!" She kicked at the belt. "Let's go and look for arrowheads again."

  "Perks, you stop that!" Neal shouted. "That's a very important find. And, Parky, don't you dare pull at it! Want a cactus spine in your hand? Christie, you get those kids out of here before they get into trouble."

  "Come on Parky, Perks." She was willing enough. "Let's go hunt arrowheads."

  Perhaps Parky had been cowed by Neal's shout, because he did come. She took both children back to the gravel bed, but it was so hot she did not see how they could stay. Libby sat down with her back to the wall in what shade there was and Christie joined her. A few minutes later the twins flopped down beside them.

  Christie felt sleepy. Perks, curled up with her head on Christie's lap, dozed off. I'll just close my eyes for a minute, the older girl thought. It is so quiet—just for a minute—

  "Chris! Please, Chris—" Her head jerked and she opened her eyes, not quite sure for a moment where she was. The shadows had crept out farther, but beyond them the sunlight was still bright enough to make her blink.

  "Chris! Please, Chris, wake up!" Perks was pulling at her shoulder.

  She came fully awake, for there were tear streaks down Perks' round cheeks, cutting tracks through the dust.

  "Perks!" She threw her arm about the small girl. "Perks, honey, what's the matter? Are you hurt?"

  Perks smeared one hand across her eyes. More tears spilled over. "Chris—Shan—he's lost! We hunted 'n' hunted—but he's lost!"

  Shan! How—and where? Christie scrambled up, still holding on to the crying Perks. She saw Libby was standing, too, looking about her.

  "What's the matter?" asked the Navajo girl.

  "Shan. Perks says he's gone. But how—"

  Surely before she had settled down by the rocks she had fastened Shan's leash back on the handle of the picnic basket—she distinctly remembered doing that. The cat might have been able to drag the basket along if he pulled hard enough, but he could not have gone far with that as an anchor. It was the way they always left him when they went on a picnic.

  "I'm sure I fastened his leash to the basket—"

  "You
did. I saw you," Libby assured her.

  "Maybe his harness got open. But it was buckled— Or the leash could have broken—"

  "Parky was hungry," Perks jerked out between sobs. "He wanted a cookie and he had to take the leash off to get the basket open."

  "But Perks, then you should have put the leash over a rock—like I did at noon!"

  "We—we forgot!" Perks's sobs turned into a loud wail.

  "What's going on?" Neal tramped up to the picnic basket just as Christie arrived from the other direction. He was smudged and dirty and looked hot and tired.

  "Shan's gone," Christie told him. "The twins wanted cookies and took his leash off the basket to get them."

  "I told her, I told her, I told her!" Parky scrambled over a rock into sight. "I said 'Perks, put Shan's leash on the rock.' And she forgot—"

  Perks let out another wail and burrowed her face against Christie.

  "You opened the basket, Parky. You should have put the leash on the rock," Christie snapped, and then gathered Perks to her closely. "Perks, honey, don't cry so. You know Shan doesn't like strange places. Now let's all be quiet while I call him. You'll see him come because he's probably almost as frightened as you are. But you'll have to be quiet so Shan can hear."

  "I'll try," Perks said in a small, muffled voice.

  "Shan—Shan—here, boy. Shan!" Christie tried to make her voice firm yet coaxing. It was true that Shan would come when she called, but only if he chose to. And he might not be as frightened at finding himself loose as she had assured Perks. If he were curious and had gone exploring, he could be anywhere.

  Shan did not come, nor did he reply to her calls as he sometimes did with a little sound that meant, "I'm busy. Don't bother me."

  Parky was beginning to sniff now, too. He brushed angrily at his eyes, not wanting to show he shared his twin's despair. Finally Christie left Perks with Libby and made a circuit of the open space, calling, listening, then calling again. Toliver, Libby, and Neal stayed where they were because Christie thought with too many searchers Shan might take cover and not come out at all.

  She met Neal at last by the rocks through which they had come.

  "He might have gone back." She spoke aloud what she most feared. If Shan was here, hiding somewhere, they had a chance of finding him. However, if he had gone back toward the meadow he could be anywhere and they might never see him again. Christie thought of snakes and coyotes for whom Shan might make a good dinner. In spite of the sun hot on her head and shoulders she felt very cold inside.

  Neal caught her sleeve. "We can try Baron!"

  Would Baron understand what they wanted him to do? Christie was not sure, and she did not have much hope. Neal whistled for the dog, who came in a rush. The boy caught him on either side of the head, looked down into his eyes, and spoke slowly and distinctly, as if the dog could indeed understand every word.

  "Shan, Baron, fetch Shan." With his fingers hooked in the dog's collar he led him over to where Shan had lain in the shade and pushed his head down so he could sniff the stone there. "Fetch, Baron—fetch Shan!"

  Neal released his hold and stood back. Baron had been sniffing the rock. Suddenly Christie felt a little more hopeful. If Baron could trail Shan—

  Shan must still have his leash on. Suppose that had become caught, was holding him prisoner somewhere so he couldn't come? Baron still sniffed, then he raised his head and looked at Neal as if wondering what to do next.

  "Find Shan—find!" Neal ordered sharply.

  The dog gave one more sniff and did move away, nose close to the ground as if he were following a scent! Christie held her breath. Baron was heading for their back trail. Oh, if Shan had gone into the open could even Baron trail him there? The dog moved slowly, stopping many times to sniff. Because they had no other hope, the children followed him.

  Shan the Explorer

  Baron continued to move slowly, stopping now and then for a long sniff at some rock. Christie twisted her hands together. They could not even be sure the dog was trailing Shan—he could be after a rabbit or one of those chuck-awalla things. Suppose Shan had gone in the opposite direction and was caught now by leash or harness—maybe choking!

  The dog came to a big slide of rock and poked his nose between two boulders. Then he gave an excited bark and began to dig, showering gravel and sand over the children, who were crowding closer. Neal caught him by the collar and pulled him back while Toliver squatted down, his head so low that he, too, might have been smelling out a trail.

  "There's a hole back here," he reported. He pushed tighter against the rocks and shoved his hand and then his arm into the crevice. "Goes in pretty far," he reported. "I can't feel anything—"

  "Let me!" Christie jerked at his shoulder. "If Shan is in there maybe he'll come when I call."

  She crouched down in Toliver's place. "Shan! Shan!" she cried, with her mouth as close to that hole as she could get it.

  Then they listened, so they could hear the thin, hollow-sounding wail that answered her. It was one Shan always used when in trouble.

  "He can't get out!" Christie was as sure of that as if she could see. "Maybe his leash is caught somewhere. Oh, Neal, what if we can't get to him!" She shivered.

  "Look here!" Toliver's sharpness caught all their attention. He stood a little back, studying the pile of rocks. "I don't think this was just a rock fall. This was built on purpose. Maybe it's a cave someone walled up."

  "The Old Ones!" Libby shrank back. "One of their places."

  But that did not mean anything to Christie. "If the rocks were put there, then can't we take them away—let Shan out? We have to!"

  "Stand back, Christie." Neal had gone to stand beside Toliver. "Maybe if we try taking stones out at the top we can get enough free so someone can crawl through."

  "Oh, Neal, we have to, we do!" Christie reached for one of those upper rocks but Toliver caught her wrist.

  "This has to be done slowly," he warned her. "We don't want to start any slide. The hole could be part of a mine digging. Neal 'n' me, we'll pick out the rocks and hand 'em to you girls. You pile them over there where they can't fall back. Ready?"

  "Yes, yes! Please hurry!" Christie pushed her glasses higher on her sweating nose and held out her hands for the first stone.

  It seemed to her that Toliver was far too slow in picking out the proper rocks, loosening them with such care he was just wasting time. She handed them on to Libby, who laid them on the ground while Parky and Perks rolled them out of the way.

  The hole was growing larger. Now they could hear more wails from Shan, uttered at intervals as if he wanted them to hurry. A big lizard flashed into view and Baron barked and leaped before Neal could stop him, so that stones tumbled and the hole was nearly covered again.

  "Parky," Neal ordered, "you catch Baron and keep him away from here."

  Once more Toliver pried at stones, now using the blade of his belt hatchet.

  "I don't think this is a mine shaft," he commented.

  TEN MILE TREASURE

  "The Old Ones," Libby repeated. "Toliver, if this is a place of the Old Ones—"

  The Navajo boy paused, continuing to look at the stone on which his hand now rested. "The cat's in there," he said. "The Old Ones would understand why we have to do this."

  What did he mean, Christie wondered? That this might be a place where some Indians were—buried? But Shan was in there and that was all that counted.

  Toliver passed another rock along, working steadily until a large hole was laid bare. It was so hot, and the dust from their work filled their eyes, noses, and mouths. Christie called to Perks to get a canteen. They drank and then Toliver went back to work. Now there was a hole large enough to wriggle through. Christie crowded forward.

  "I'll go."

  Neal's arm swung up before her. "I'll go— I've got this." He had his flashlight in his hand.

  "Better me." Toliver was all ready to boost himself in.

  "No. Shan doesn't know you," Neal said.
"It has to be me. Here goes—"

  He scrambled up and slid carefully in. Toliver put head and shoulders in after him. Christie heard a hollow noise that sounded like stones rattling down inside. Was Neal going to fall into a big hole?

  "It's a cave," Toliver reported. "Something back in there—"

  "Shan, here, Shan!" Neal's voice sounded queer and hollow. "Shan—no! Let me—got you!" The last was triumphant and Christie gave a sigh of relief.

  "Here." A moment later Toliver turned and handed out Shan, spitting and hissing, kicking against such indignity. His fight subsided when Christie's hands closed about him. She spoke to him soothingly and stroked his head, so busy with Shan that she did not notice at first that Neal had not come back out of the hole. When she realized that, she was afraid again. Was Neal now caught in turn?

  "Neal?" she asked Toliver, who was back halfway through the hole. "What is he doing in there?"

  Toliver muttered something she could not understand and then drew himself out and went to work quickly loosening more stones.

  "Is Neal caught in there?" Christie pulled at the Navajo boy's arm.

  "No. But he's found something! And—" Toliver glanced back at his sister as if to reassure her—"it's not Old Ones' things either!"

  He was excited. Christie carried Shan back to the picnic basket and made very sure he would stay out of trouble by shutting him in it, the lid tied down. Then she hurried back to where Toliver was again pulling out stones and Libby putting them to one side. It was not long before they had a big opening through which they could all see.

  Neal was hidden by shadows, but the light of his flash shone full on a heap in the middle of a small cave. Boxes and bags. What did they hold? One at a time the rest crawled through to inspect the discovery closer.

  Christie saw a small trunk and a bag with a handle, looking a little like a plane bag but larger. There were several other bags tied at the top. Toliver picked up a flatter pouch from the floor. He blew dust from it, rubbed it with his hand. Black letters appeared as he loosened that covering, us. mail.