CHAPTER VII
THE MAP OF MYSTERY
Tommy Sharpe had been given an old shed on the edge of the cliff from which he could look straight down into the canyon behind the ranch house. He had made it over into a home. There were two rooms; one he used as a bedroom and the other was his den into which he put all the treasures he had collected.
Outside, a narrow veranda had been built out over the cliff and it was here that the boy loved to sit and watch the sky grow bright with the morning sun and again at evening see the rosy glow of sunset.
Tommy Sharpe's cabin met the approval of the girls.
"You make me very proud of you, Tommy," laughed Enid. "You do credit to my teaching."
"You were a good teacher," and Tommy put on such a doleful expression that the girls screamed with laughter. "Do you remember the time you made me clean out the cabin three times before I got it right?"
"Tilly was a cruel lady! But aren't you glad now? See what a good housekeeper I made of you." Enid looked proudly about the clean little shack and showed her approval.
"Sure," said Tommy simply.
"That boy is just as much of a bluffer as ever," exclaimed Kit. "I saw Cheerekee here with a broom. She disappeared as we came in. Tommy never dusted this place today, I know he didn't."
"Of course today is different. I couldn't go to the station to meet you and clean house at the same time. Cheerekee did the work today." Tommy agreed without a smile.
"And every day. Look here, Tommy Sharpe, tell the truth and say you have never swept or dusted this cabin in your life!" Bet grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around. "Look me in the eye and tell the truth."
"Well, if I don't, I see to it that Cheerekee does," he acknowledged at last.
"What's more, Mr. Tommy Sharpe," cried Enid gleefully, "you give her strict orders not to touch anything up on that shelf. Heavens! Look at the dust, girls, it's an inch thick."
"Ah ha, Tommy, we caught you there!"
"You would! I might have known you girls would see a little thing like that. But what's the difference?"
"None at all, Tommy, only we won't allow you to take credit for things that you don't do," scolded Enid playfully.
"That's because you are all hard-hearted girls," Tommy answered with a scowl.
"Now, let's see your treasures." Bet was already peering on the high shelf. "I want to see every one of them."
The girls looked eagerly about on the shelves that ran three deep about the room, and each shelf was full to overflowing with his strange collections. Enid smiled as she noticed several little pine cone figures that she had given him for his own. These he had treasured and they now held a conspicuous place in his assortment of knick-knacks.
There were stuffed birds, arrowheads, old bits of pottery, and many Indian baskets.
"And look at that snake skin! Ugh, Tommy, how could you bear to touch the wriggling thing?" exclaimed Joy with a shudder of disgust.
"It had stopped wriggling when I touched it," returned Tommy. "Can't say as I like them squirmy, myself."
"And what is this, Tommy?" called Enid. "Girls do come and look at this ugly thing in the jar. What is it? It's like a big brown lizard."
"That's a baby Gila monster. Isn't it a beauty? If you'll look at it closely you'll see that it's not ugly at all. Look at the design of his back, like an Indian rug." Tommy took the jar in his hand caressingly.
But Enid shuddered and turned to something more interesting which Bet was already examining.
"What's he got there, Bet?" asked Enid laying her arm across her friend's shoulder.
"Looks like an old map! Isn't it quaint?" Bet was looking at it intently. "I love old maps. Where did you pick this up, Tommy?" she inquired.
"Oh, a Mexican wanted some money and offered to sell it to me for five dollars," the boy answered with a smile. "He was such a wicked looking old fellow that I figured I might as well buy something from him as have him rob me. So I gave him five dollars. The map was all in tatters but I pasted it together. I rather like it myself."
"Five dollars!" exclaimed Bet. "And I'm almost sure you could sell it to a museum for fifty. That map is a beauty."
"If I ever get my five dollars back from it, I'll be surprised. Personally I don't believe it's worth fifty cents, Mex." Tommy shrugged his shoulders, and rather scorned Bet's enthusiasm.
"Why it's worth more than that just as a curiosity. Look at the arrows and X marks. And that weird looking tree! I wonder what it's all about?"
"It's a useful map," declared Tommy with a smile. "It hides a stovepipe hole in that chimney. I couldn't do without it in the summer."
The girls all laughed. Only Bet was seriously interested in the map.
"I believe it's a treasure map," she murmured half to herself as if dreaming. "I'd love to hunt for treasure." Then she turned to Tommy Sharpe: "Judge Breckenridge says there is an old legend of a treasure here in Lost Canyon. Of course he makes fun of it, but it might be true. What do you think about it, Kit?"
"I'd hurt too many people's feelings if I told you what I think about it," answered Kit.
"Go on, don't mind us. Say what's on your mind," laughed Tommy.
"Well, I'm surprised, Tommy Sharpe, that you would fall for that old story about a treasure being buried here. I thought boys were supposed to be clever," Kit said contemptuously.
"There's a treasure there all right," Tommy stated it with certainty. "I have Ramon Salazar's word for it. He looked me in the eye and told me."
"Now I know you're not telling us the truth. Ramon Salazar couldn't look one straight in the eye." Kit dropped into a chair, shrieking with laughter as she visualized Ramon Salazar trying to look anyone straight in the eye, for he was the most weirdly cross-eyed person she had ever seen.
"Maybe that's why he could look at me and lie like a pirate," replied Tommy. "I paid him five good dollars for that map."
"You must have been crazy, Tommy."
"I wasn't. Ramon knew I had that five dollars, and if I hadn't given it to him, he would have stolen it."
"There's something fishy about the whole story, Tommy. There must have been some other reason for Ramon Salazar wishing that old map off on you." Kit knew the dwellers in the hills. "I can bet a nickel on it that he thought you might get interested and dig for the treasure and maybe find it." Suddenly Kit jumped up, "And I bet a dime on top of that that Kie Wicks was back of it."
"And I have reason to think you are right, Kit. Kie came in one day, saw the map and claimed that Ramon had stolen it from him, but when I offered it to him for nothing, he refused. Said that would be taking advantage of me."
Kit gave a boisterous shout of laughter. "Oh girls, if you only knew Kie Wicks, you'd see the joke of that. Why that man lives by taking advantage of people, and he never puts through a deal of any kind without cheating. He's notorious. That's his business in life, to take advantage of people."
Tommy smiled. "I think Kie had a lot to do with it. I think he put Ramon up to selling it to me. But I don't know why."
"I wonder why Kie didn't take back the map when you offered it to him?
That surprised me. Usually he doesn't turn down any kind of a gift."
"He didn't need this map," said Tommy quietly.
"How do you know?"
"Because the map had been copied before I got it. The tracing marks were on it for a full day, then disappeared. I don't pretend to know why," Tommy turned away from the map, and one could see that he was not interested.
"It's a mystery," exclaimed Enid. "Get to work, Bet Baxter. The mystery of the treasure map! We'll give you a week to solve the problem."
"Don't do it, Bet, please don't! If you go mooning away about treasures and all that sort of thing, we'll miss half the fun of the ranch. When you hunt for treasure, it's work, work, work! And a big disappointment in the end," advised Kit Patten.
"I've always had a yearning to dig for something. Once when I was a little girl, Uncle Nat was digging in our garden and he found an old rusty cannon ball and a piece of a flintlock, and ever since that I've always wanted to get a shovel and dig." Bet's voice had a longing in it that set the girls into screams of laughter.
"You ridiculous girl!" cried Joy affectionately. "You would try to start something!"
"But you'll have to acknowledge that Bet usually finds what she goes out after," remarked the quiet Shirley, pointing her camera toward the canyon wall opposite Tommy's door. "And while we usually object, we've never had more fun or thrills than when she leads us into adventure."
"Maybe so. But…" began Joy.
"And so I say," continued Shirley, "let Bet lead the way and we'll follow. If it's treasure, we'll help her dig. And if she goes in for fancy bronco busting, that's O. K. too."
"Oh, Shirley, don't say that! You make me feel responsible and I don't want that. Let's not make any plans at all. Just be ready to do whatever comes our way. That's always more fun." Bet liked to have the thrill of unexpected adventure, hoping that something new would come their way.
"I have my heart set on teaching some of you to rope a steer," Kit spoke up.
"Sure! It wouldn't do at all for them to go back east before they'd learned that," agreed Tommy, his eyes glowing at the prospect of showing off his skill with the rope.
"It isn't as hard as it looks," Kit encouraged the girls.
"I imagine we'll find it harder than it looks," laughed Bet as she tore herself away from the map. "It doesn't look a bit difficult when that rope twirls through the air. I've seen it in the movies and once I tried it with the clothes line but I couldn't do more than get the rope around my own neck. I know I'll never learn."
"Before the summer is over, Bet, you'll be a regular cowboy. I'll teach you myself," Tommy asserted.
"And I don't want to be taught. I'm sure I'd hate it," exclaimed Joy.
"Nobody will learn if we are going to get interested in treasure maps and that sort of thing," pouted Kit.
Bet spoke up firmly: "I've decided not to go treasure hunting. As a work of art, that map is a treasure in itself, I love it, but I'm going to leave the treasure hunting to Tommy and Kie Wicks and the cross-eyed Mexican."
Bet was so positive in her assertion that the treasure could remain in the ground for all she cared, that no one guessed that before the month was out, not Bet alone, but all The Merriweather Girls would have no thought of anything except that treasure, and all the adventure it brought.
From early morning until late at night their one interest would be unravelling the mystery of Lost Canyon.
Even the old professor whose mind was set on Indian relics, would forget his errand to the hills and all that it involved and be heart and soul in the venture of the hidden treasure.
For Fate upsets all plans and leads into strange and undreamed-of adventures.
CHAPTER VIII
KIT'S HOME FOLKS
Kit's greeting to her quiet, undemonstrative father was as effusive as he would allow it to be. She threw both arms about him with a cry of joy but all he said was: "You're home! That's good!" His tall, stooped figure was that of a hard working man, an outdoor man. His face bore criss-cross wrinkles stamped by the winds and heat of the mountain.
It was from him that Kit had inherited her deep-set brown eyes, her tall, slight body. Father and daughter were very much alike in looks but her mother had given her a disposition of joyousness that her silent father admired but utterly lacked.
Kit knew her father's way. She saw the happiness in his eyes and knew that he had missed her, perhaps even more than her sociable mother had done. Ma Patten could make friends with everybody who came near, and in that way she had worked off a lot of her loneliness at her daughter's absence. But Dad Patten confided in no one, not even Ma knew what was in his heart.
After the greeting was over the old man turned to the professor and continued his conversation without another glance at Kit. One could see that the professor and the mountaineer were already friends. Not many words had passed between them by way of introduction but the vigorous handshake assured the city man that he was welcome, and only when they began to talk of Indians and their ways did Dad Patten speak. The two men were in the middle of a discussion when Kit arrived home.
After a few minutes she disappeared and the next thing the professor saw was Kit trying to embrace a stout old squaw. But the two years separation from Indian Mary had made Kit a stranger to her, at least one would judge so by the graven image attitude she put on.
Kit grabbed her by the shoulder. "Now look here, Mary, don't put on any airs with me. Didn't you pretty nearly bring me up? Why, I'm almost like your own child. Tell me, don't you love me almost as much as you do Young Mary?"
The Indian woman shook her head for no, but Kit laughed. "I don't believe you! You always liked me better than Young Mary. – Where is she? I brought her something from New York."
"Where? What?" asked Old Mary.
"I want to give it to Young Mary myself. It's so pretty that if you saw it first you'd never let Mary have it. Where is she?"
"Way off visiting at the reservation. Pretty soon she come home. Lots of Indians come soon."
"I'm so disappointed," exclaimed Kit. "Here, I brought something for you, too." And Kit held out a large package.
The old Indian woman unwrapped the large bundle and disclosed a dress. Kit had chosen it with the idea of pleasing her old nurse, who, above everything else, delighted in bright clothes. A pleasing mixture of reds and yellows; modernistic, they called it in New York, but in Arizona it was just plain "Injun Caste."
The old woman gave grunts of satisfaction as she patted the bright cloth, then scurried away to show her treasure to her husband, Indian Joe. He hurried out and shook hands with Kit and beamed on her when Old Mary displayed her gown. The Indian was more up-to-date than his wife. He had been to school when young and knew the ways of the white people.
Kit extended a package to Indian Joe.
"Ah!" breathed Mary excitedly when Joe undid the string and she saw a pair of comfortable felt slippers. "He like much," she said with a nod of her head.
But when they saw a stranger watching them from the window they became embarrassed and wanted to hide away until Kit told them that Professor Gillette was a great friend of the Indians and would want to meet them and get acquainted.
Old Mary shook her head with disapproval. It took her a long time to make up with strangers. But Joe was different. When Kit told him that the professor was going to pitch a tent in the canyon and live there for the summer, he nodded and said: "Me fix him up. Joe knows where."
And Kit knew by that that Indian Joe and the stranger would be friends.
The professor had studied his Indians well. He waited patiently for the proper chance to introduce himself. It came the first evening. Joe and Old Mary always built a little bonfire back of their shack and sat around it, as they had done in previous days when outdoor cooking was their custom. In fact they had never outgrown the habit of preparing a meal over the glowing coals.
But on this evening the fire was only to look at. And very quietly the professor approached and squatted down beside them. He merely nodded and then stared into the fire as Indian Joe was doing.
This continued for a long time, then the professor got up as quietly, said goodnight and left.
After that Indian Joe and Old Mary were his devoted friends.
The professor returned to the house as pleased as if he had already found the ancient ruins that he was seeking.
"I'm afraid you can't expect to get much help from the Indians," remarked Dad Patten. "There's a legend in these mountains to the effect that Indians massacred a band of white men, and the daughter of the old Indian chief cursed her own people. Within a year the tribe had died out or wandered away. The village was deserted. Now the daughter is supposed to appear at times when there is treachery going on, a sort of warning to those who are doing wrong."
"That's a good idea," laughed Professor Gillette. "It has probably kept many a man on the straight path."
"Maybe so, but I haven't ever noticed it. There is plenty of crookedness goes on in the canyon. And no one, Indian or white man, is safe from the ghost."
"Ah, that's interesting!" exclaimed the professor rubbing his hands together in his excitement.
"The Mexicans believe it to a man," broke in Kit. "They will hardly come into the canyon at night, especially if they have anything on their conscience. Some white men are afraid of that ghost. Maybe you believe in ghosts yourself, Professor Gillette?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But that ghost does complicate matters. The Indians will not want to give me any information and I had planned to save time by winning their confidence."
"Don't worry," replied Dad Patten. "Make friends with them and sooner or later they'll let it slip out without meaning to. That is if they know anything about a lost village. And truly, Professor, we always thought that was just a lot of silly talk about there being an ancient Indian town near here. I've never seen it and I've never seen anyone else who has. So I doubt it."
"We'll see." The professor's eyes were aglow once more at the prospect of finding the ruins and winning glory for himself. "If there is one here, we'll find it, if it takes all summer. And now I'm very tired and I'd like to go to bed," he added as simply as a child.
Ma Patten was in her glory. Here was another person for her to mother.
And she fluttered around the old man as if he were indeed a child.
Long before daylight the next morning, Professor Gillette was awake and he waited impatiently for the first sign of life in the house. It would never do, he thought, to disturb the family on his first morning in their house.
But he did not have to wait long. Dad Patten was an early riser and at the first sound the professor was ready to go out in the yard. Here he found Indian Joe already busy, going doggedly about his work, never in a hurry, never flustered but accomplishing a surprising lot of jobs during his long day.
He had brought in Kit's horse, a beautiful, dark, slender animal that pawed the ground and whinneyed impatiently.
Kit slipped from the house with a cry of joy. "Oh, Powder, you dear, dear old thing! I love you! And you'll never know how much I missed you!"
There was a sparkle in Joe's eye as he hastily put on the saddle while Kit ran into the house for her riding knickers. The professor watched admiringly as she swung into the saddle. Then he stood paralyzed with fear as the horse stood straight up on his hind legs, then with a sudden spring he reversed his position with his hind legs in the air.
Kit had half expected this performance and had put on spurs which she dug into his sides. Not for a second did she leave the saddle. She finally turned the horse's head toward the road and with a prod of the spurs sent the animal down it at a speed that made the professor gasp in fright. Every moment he expected to see the girl thrown against the jagged rocks at the side of the narrow thoroughfare. But Kit held the reins. Soon she was out of sight and the old man went in search of Dad Patten.
"Kit's horse is running away with her," he exclaimed, his hand trembling.
But Dad Patten and Indian Joe merely smiled. "It had to come," said the girl's father. "Whenever Kit leaves that horse, even for a week, she has to go through this. Powder wants to be boss and tries to win, but Kit is always master."
"She knows what she's doing," Ma Patten reassured the old man when he excitedly pointed out Kit far over the mesa, struggling with her pony who was once more bucking. "Kit has been riding a horse ever since she was a baby."
Kit returned half an hour later, her cheeks glowing, her eyes dancing with excitement. And when the professor voiced his fears to her, she replied: "You know I don't believe that horse would throw me. I think he goes just as far as he knows I can handle him. He's brainy, that pony! No one knows how I've missed him."
The professor looked at her with the same admiring glance as Jim Hawkins, the riding master on Campers' Trail, had done. His eyes were not seeing the fancy riding in quite such a professional manner as Jim, but nevertheless he gloried in the poise and daring of this slight bit of a girl. Things were very different when he was a boy. Then girls clung like plants and were sheltered.
The professor had never seen such riding and he stood staring over the mesa as Kit once more gave her horse the spurs.
In spite of her parents' confidence, he could not believe that Kit had the horse under control for the animal raced madly, then suddenly without any warning, stopped short and tried by every method known to a horse, to throw off his burden. He reared, he bucked, he "sun-fished" but all to no avail. The girl stuck to her saddle.
"Won't somebody help her?" the professor prayed desperately. "She will be killed!"