The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Julia K. Duncan

  Florence turned and started back toward the house. “It won’t do any good to stand here talking about it. Come on, we’ll find something else to cook in place of the bacon for breakfast. It’s a good thing we brought some canned milk along for an emergency, but we’ll have to do without butter for several days, till I can get some sent out from the city.”

  Jo Ann ran to catch up with Peggy and Florence. “Why can’t you get some butter from the people down at the goat ranch?” she asked.

  Florence laughed. “Why, they probably wouldn’t even know what I was talking about.”

  “Don’t they use butter?”

  “No, the peons never use it.”

  “Well, then, let’s get extra milk and make it ourselves.”

  “How? We haven’t a churn.”

  “I’ve seen my mother make butter by stirring the cream in a bowl or jar,” Jo Ann explained.

  Just then they reached the house, and all three ran on inside and began telling Mrs. Blackwell of their loss.

  “Mrs. Blackwell, what is your opinion about the mysterious visitor—was he man or beast?” asked Jo Ann finally.

  “I couldn’t say, of course, but it seems to me an animal would hardly carry off the glass jars of milk and butter.”

  Jo Ann stared at Mrs. Blackwell a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, then turned and went on outside.

  Peggy glanced over at Florence. “Everything seems to point to those people as the guilty parties, doesn’t it? Jo hates to admit it, though.”

  “Oh well, it wasn’t much, and anyway, we can’t prove that they are the guilty ones. Let’s forget about it and see what we can find for breakfast.” She got up and went out in the kitchen with Jo Ann.

  A few minutes later Peggy joined them, and before long they had the emergency breakfast ready: coffee, dry cereal with canned milk, batter cakes with brown sugar syrup, and oranges.

  “This isn’t half bad, if you ask me,” bragged Peggy as they sat down to the table.

  Jo Ann grinned. “Just see who fixed it! Why, we’re the best cooks for miles around.”

  “That isn’t saying much, is it?” smiled Florence, then all four laughed merrily as they caught Florence’s hidden meaning.

  As soon as the breakfast things were cleared away and the house straightened up, Jo Ann asked, “Florence, do you and Peg still want to go down to the cave with me?”

  “Why, of course. Come on, let’s see what we can find to carry to those children.”

  The three girls hastened to the kitchen, and Florence began searching through the provision box for something to take to the children at the cave.

  “Here’re some frijoles—that’s their principal food, and I know they’ll like them. We’ll put in some rice, and with these onions and garlic and this can of tomatoes they can make sopa de aroz—a kind of stew.” As Florence handed the things to Jo Ann and Peggy, they packed them in a split-cane basket.

  She looked about the kitchen a moment, then reached over on the table and picked up a bag of oranges and handed it to Jo Ann. “Here’re some oranges. They ought to have some fruit, too. There’re only half a dozen in there, but that’ll be enough for each of the children to have one apiece. Let’s take these batter cakes we had left from breakfast. They’ll love them. They’ll think they’re some kind of a cake. We’ll put in this cone of brown sugar and tell the woman how to make syrup—but they’ll very likely eat the sugar as it is, thinking it’s candy.”

  “I wonder if I couldn’t get milk from the goat ranch for them,” put in Jo Ann. “I’m going to see about it the next time we go down there.”

  When they had finished, Jo Ann picked up the basket and followed Florence and Peggy out on the front porch, where Mrs. Blackwell was lying in a hammock stretched between two of the crude peeled posts supporting the thatched roof.

  Florence leaned over to drop a kiss on her mother’s pale cheek. “Do you mind if we leave you alone for a little while? We’re going down to the cave to carry some food to those poor little children—we won’t be gone over half an hour.”

  “I want to prove to Florence and Peg that I’m right about that blue-eyed boy,” added Jo Ann. “Maybe we’ll be able to find out something that’ll throw some light on the mystery of his blue eyes.”

  Mrs. Blackwell smiled. “You girls run along—I’ll take a nap while you’re gone. I’m very glad you’re adopting those children. From what you’ve told me they must be badly in need of a helping hand. You see evidences of real poverty down here among the peons, and yet, as a general thing, they’re very happy.” As they started off down the trail she called, “Jo, I wish you luck in solving the mystery of your blue-eyed boy.”

  Florence and Jo Ann found it very painful going down the steep path. Their leg muscles were still stiff and sore from their long tramp over the mountain side the day before. They were glad when they reached the foot of the cliff and started on a smooth wooded trail around its base.

  At the first curve they stopped to gaze across the broad valley stretching out before them.

  “Isn’t this glorious!” Jo Ann exclaimed. “We almost beat the sun up—down here, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, it wasn’t much ahead of us,” agreed Peggy, “and doesn’t the air smell good?”

  All three girls drew in deep breaths of the fragrant, woodsy odor of leaf mold and dew-kissed ferns.

  A few minutes later they turned and hurried along the trail till they reached the narrow, unused path leading up to the cave. As they came in sight of it, Jo Ann stopped abruptly and stood staring before her.

  “What’s the idea of stopping so suddenly?” Peggy demanded, as she bumped into Jo Ann.

  “What’s the matter?” chimed in Florence, crowding up behind Peggy and trying unsuccessfully to look over their shoulders.

  CHAPTER IV

  THE CAVE FAMILY DISAPPEARS

  Jo Ann pointed to the rugged arched opening before her. “Look! The donkey’s gone and there’s no sign of anyone. I don’t believe that family’s here now.”

  Quickly all three girls walked on to the cave and stood staring inside. With the rays of the morning sun shining directly on the entrance, they could easily see into the farthest corners.

  “There’s not a soul here!” finally ejaculated Jo Ann. “They’re gone—bag and baggage.”

  “But it’s strange they’d leave so suddenly,” put in Florence. “They must’ve left before daylight.”

  Peggy stepped inside the cave and kicked the pile of ashes with her foot. “There hasn’t been a fire here for hours—these ashes are as cold as charity.”

  Jo Ann sighed as she set the basket down on the floor. “Those poor little children won’t get any of this food, after all. Isn’t that a shame?” She turned to Florence. “Do you suppose our coming here yesterday had anything to do with their leaving so suddenly?”

  Florence shook her head. “No, I hardly think so. Now and then an Indian family spends the night here when they’re on their way farther up the mountain.”

  “If they intended to leave so early, then why were those two boys gathering wood yesterday? They couldn’t have burned all of it in such a short time.”

  Florence shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I was right, after all, about the blue-eyed boy having been kidnaped,” put in Peggy.

  Silently the three girls stared around the cave, each busy with her own thoughts.

  A few minutes later Jo Ann reached down and picked up the basket. “Come on, let’s see if we can find which way they went. They couldn’t’ve got very far with the old grandmother and all those little children. Maybe we can overtake them and give them these things—then they’ll know we want to be friends.”

  In the damp earth of the narrow path they could see distinctly the prints of bare feet and the small half-moons made by the donkey. They easily followed the trail till they came to the rocky cart road up which they had ridden the day before.

  Here Jo Ann and Peg
gy dropped to their knees and began examining the tracks in the dust.

  “Now which way do you suppose they went?” queried Jo Ann. “These tracks could have been made here yesterday by our donkeys and the peon driver.”

  “The tracks seem to go in both directions, and they’re so indistinct it’d be impossible to follow a trail. You might as well give up, Jo.”

  Florence smiled over at Jo Ann. “I believe the blue-eyed Mexican boy is one mystery you won’t be able to solve. You’ll have to use your detective ability in finding out what became of our milk and butter.” She hesitated a moment, then continued thoughtfully, “If those people followed this road up the mountain they’d pass within about fifty feet of our box at the spring.”

  Peggy’s eyes widened. “Oh, do you suppose they really did get our things, then?”

  Jo Ann jumped quickly to her feet. “Well, since they’re gone, I hope they did get them. Those little children need the milk and butter much more than we do—only I hate to think of their having stolen them.” She glanced down at the basket. “I wish we could have given them this food—they need it so badly. I wanted to see that boy again, too.”

  “It won’t do any good to stand here in the sun talking about it,” Florence called over to Peggy and Jo Ann. “Come on. Let’s drop the whole business and go home—it’s almost time to start getting dinner, anyway.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Blackwell can help us explain the mystery of their sudden departure,” Jo Ann remarked as she picked up the basket and started off behind Florence, while Peggy brought up the rear.

  The three disappointed girls began slowly climbing in single file up the steep, narrow, winding path to the camp. Bending forward like saplings blown by the wind, they trudged silently up the trail, Jo Ann carrying the basket on first one arm, then the other.

  When they were within a short distance of the top of the cliff Florence suddenly leaped backward, gasping, “Ugh! A snake!”

  She bumped against Jo Ann with such force that the basket was knocked from her hands and rolled clattering down the mountain side. Unmindful of the basket, Florence kept pushing Jo Ann down the narrow trail.

  The next moment Jo Ann stumbled and half fell against Peggy. Simultaneously a terrified shriek rent the air. Jo Ann wheeled about in time to see Peggy swaying dangerously over the outer edge of the cliff.

  With eyes dilated with horror she saw her clutch wildly at a stunted tree growing out of the rocky ledge. The next instant Jo Ann reached out to grab Peggy. Her fingers touched her skirt, but before she could grasp it, the tree suddenly swayed outward over the cliff under Peggy’s weight.

  Involuntarily Jo Ann shut her eyes tightly. “Oh, Peg’ll be killed!” she thought frantically.

  The snapping of branches and the crashing of rocks down the mountain side came to her ears. Was Peg falling—falling—

  She forced her eyelids open. Thank goodness! Peg was alive! Hanging to the tree. But oh, that awful abyss she was hanging over! She must help her out of that terrible plight if humanly possible. The tree might pull out by the roots at any moment.

  “Hold on, Peg!” she cried. “We’ll help you!”

  To Jo Ann’s great joy, Peggy began cautiously inching her way along the bent tree trunk.

  “Just a little nearer and I can reach you,” encouraged Jo Ann. She called over to Florence. “Grab hold of me and steady me while I pull Peg.”

  Years—ages passed, it seemed to Jo Ann, as she leaned forward with outstretched hands. The instant Peggy’s feet barely touched the rocky ledge she reached down and pulled her safely over the edge.

  With tears rolling down her cheeks, Florence threw her arms about Peggy. “Oh, Peg, you might’ve been killed! And it was all my fault!”

  “Well—I—wasn’t—killed.” Peggy took a step backward and leaned against the bank for support. “I—feel—shaky, though.”

  “No wonder,” agreed Jo Ann. “I’m wobbly-kneed, too.”

  “What—in the world—got into you girls—to push that way?”

  “I saw a snake—a huge snake, right across our path, and I almost stepped on it,” answered Florence. She cupped her hands to make a circle. “He was that big around. He was so long I couldn’t see either his head or his tail.”

  Peggy uttered a little gasp of surprise.

  “You’re imagining things, Florence,” put in the practical Jo Ann. “You know perfectly well there’re no snakes that big—except boa constrictors in the jungles.”

  “But he was huge. I wouldn’t have been so frightened by a smaller one. I’ve never seen one this large here before. He must be at least eight or ten feet long.”

  A little twinkle entered Peggy’s eyes. “You girls ought to be even now. Jo insists a Mexican boy has blue eyes, and you insist you saw a huge boa constrictor right in sight of the house.”

  “If that snake’s still there—and I imagine it is—I’ll prove to you that I’m right.”

  Both Peggy and Jo Ann drew back slightly, and Peggy spoke up. “I, for one, am not going back up this trail with any kind of snake—big or little—waiting for me.”

  “How’re we ever going to get to the house, then?” asked Jo Ann. “Will we have to go back down to the cart road and walk all the way around the mountain? Why, that’s miles, and in this hot sun!”

  “I think I know a place where we can manage to climb up the cliff,” Florence told them. “How about it? Want to try it?”

  “Sure,” replied Jo Ann. “’Most anything’d be better than walking miles out of the way when the house is only a few hundred yards from here.”

  Florence led the way back down the trail a short distance, then began climbing the sheer surface of the cliff. By sticking their toes in the crevices of the rock and catching hold of the scraggly shrubs growing in the cracks, all three finally reached the top of the cliff.

  After they had walked along the ledge for a short distance, Florence remarked, “I think we ought to be able to see the snake from here—if it’s still there.”

  Cautiously she pulled the bushes aside and peered down on the path.

  “Ugh! There he is—right in the same place!”

  Peggy and Jo Ann leaned over to look.

  “See that big black thing that looks like a log?”

  Jo Ann gasped, “Gosh! What a snake!”

  “That’s the biggest one I ever saw, except in a zoo,” declared Peggy, wide-eyed.

  Florence pointed to the snake. “See those bumps in him. He’s probably had some squirrels or rabbits for his dinner and is lying there in the sun digesting them.”

  “I didn’t dream there were such snakes around here,” Jo Ann added.

  Before they started for the house, all three girls picked up stones and pitched them down at the snake. When one of the stones struck him, the huge reptile slowly disappeared over the edge of the path.

  “It’s a good thing you saw it in time,” said Jo Ann. “I’d hate to have that terrible thing get after me in a place like that, where I couldn’t run.”

  As they hastened across the mesa to the house, Florence remarked, “Maybe we’d better not tell Mother how big that snake was—she’ll worry every time we’re out of sight, if we do.”

  “All right,” Jo Ann and Peggy agreed.

  CHAPTER V

  FOOTPRINTS

  When the girls neared the house they were surprised to hear several people talking in Spanish. Perhaps the family from the cave have come up the mountain by the cart road, Jo Ann thought, and have stopped to talk to Mrs. Blackwell. But a moment later a shadow of disappointment crossed her face as she recognized the woman and children from the goat ranch.

  “For a moment I thought it was those people from the cave with the blue-eyed boy,” Jo Ann said in a low voice to Peggy.

  Peggy shook her auburn head. “Forget it, Jo. There’s no such luck.”

  The girls exchanged greetings in Spanish with the visitors, then dropped down on the floor beside the two little girls. Jo Ann, in her poor Spanish
, attempted to carry on a conversation with the children, while Peggy looked on, amused.

  She was interrupted a few minutes later by Mrs. Blackwell. “Girls, María says a bear carried off one of their pigs last night. Isn’t that too bad? They had them in an enclosure against the cliff just back of the house here.”

  Jo Ann jumped quickly to her feet. “I bet that’s what got our things at the spring. A bear! Why didn’t we think of that before?”

  “We’ve never been bothered with one before,” put in Florence.

  “María’s husband, Juan, said the continued drouth up in the mountains has caused the wild animals to come down into the valley in search of food,” Mrs. Blackwell continued. “The bear had evidently followed the river, because they found tracks up the ravine.”

  María, who had been watching the expression on their faces intently, now began to shake her head and to talk rapidly in Spanish.

  “She says that bears like much the pork,” translated Florence for the girls’ benefit. “She’s afraid he’ll come back for the rest of the pigs, and she doesn’t know what to do to keep him away.”

  “What to do!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “Why, shoot him, of course.”

  Mrs. Blackwell smiled. “I doubt if Juan has ever owned a gun. About the only weapon the peon ever uses is a stiletto, and it would not be an easy matter to kill a bear with a stiletto—or even with a machete.”

  Peggy shivered as if she were cold. “I should say it wouldn’t. I’d hate to get that close to one, especially a real wild bear! It gives me the creeps to think about it.”

  “I’ve got a grand idea,” burst out Jo Ann. “Why can’t we go on a bear hunt? We have a gun, and I can shoot.”

  “I can shoot pretty good, too,” added Peggy. “Daddy taught me when we lived in the country. I killed a possum once when he got in our henhouse.”

  Jo Ann smiled. “He probably just played possum when he heard the report of your gun, and you thought he was dead. They’ll do that sometimes.”