“Could it have been those people down at the cave who——” began Jo Ann; then the next moment she answered her own question: “No, I know they didn’t do it. They’re poor, but I don’t believe they’d steal.”
Peggy looked over at Jo Ann. “How do you know? You can’t prove it.”
Dropping to her knees beside the spring Jo Ann began examining the moss-covered stones. “The moss is scraped off this rock where something heavy stepped on it, but then we could’ve done that last night when we put the things in here.”
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.
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 Peggy 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.
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.”
“No, I killed him—sure enough.”
“Well, that’s not like killing a bear—a real, live, wild, grizzly bear.”
“They don’t have grizzly bears down here, silly.”
“How do you know they don’t?” retorted Jo Ann. “Grizzlies are found in the mountains of North America, and this is North America, isn’t it? Besides, you haven’t seen his tracks.”
As the argument continued, Florence explained to María and the children what it was about. The two little girls stared wide eyed at Jo Ann and Peggy. They had never in all their lives heard of a girl’s going out to hunt a bear. They decided a gun must be one of those terrible things which their grandmother had told them about. A stick which shot forth a deadly fire that killed everything before it. She had warned them never to touch a fire stick and to hide if they saw anyone with one.
Peggy burst out just then with, “Well, young lady, you’re not going on a bear hunt without me, that’s sure.”
Mrs. Blackwell stared at Jo Ann and Peggy in horrified amazement. “Girls! What are you talking about? A bear hunt! The idea!”
“But, Mrs. Blackwell, we wouldn’t be in any danger,” protested Jo Ann. “We’d hide in a safe place and watch for the bear; then, when he came for another pig, we’d shoot him—that’s all.”
“I’m afraid, my dear, that it wouldn’t be as simple as that.”
Florence, seeing the worried expression on her mother’s face, changed the subject. “The bear must’ve smelled the bacon, and that’s the reason he found our box at the spring. By the way, I wonder what time it is.” She got up and walked to the door. As she looked in at the clock sitting on their improvised dressing table, she gasped, “Good gracious! I had no idea it was so late. If we’re going to have any dinner around here today, I’ll have to start the fire this very minute.”
She went on through the house toward the kitchen, Peggy and Jo Ann following a moment later.
“I’ll build the fire, Florence,” offered Jo Ann, taking the wood out of her hands. “I’ll have it burning before you and Peg get something ready to cook on it—and I’ll start it Mexican fashion, too.”
“Don’t be too sure, Jo,” teased Peggy. “Suppose there aren’t any live coals left?”
“We’ll see.”
Peggy and Florence disappeared into the kitchen, and Jo Ann placed her armful of wood down beside the outdoor fireplace. She stirred the coals left from their breakfast fire then carefully laid several small pieces of wood over them. Leaning down, she began blowing on the coals as she had seen the peon women do. Soon, to her delight, tiny flames began licking at the wood. She kept on blowing a few minutes longer, then sat back on her heels to look with satisfaction at the fire which was now burning brightly in the fireplace.
“When in Mexico do as the Mexicans do,” she called gaily to Florence and Peggy. “I’m getting good. I beat you, and I didn’t have to use a match, either. Now bring on your dinner.”
“You didn’t beat us much. Here, put these potatoes on to boil,” Peggy replied as she handed a pot of potatoes to Jo Ann. “I used the last of the water over them. Hadn’t I better get some more?”
Jo Ann stopped in the act of setting the pot of potatoes over the fire as a thought suddenly flashed into her mind. “I’ll get the water,” she offered quickly. She put the pot down and hurried to the kitchen for the bucket. A moment later she disappeared down the path to the spring.
Jo must be up to something, thought Peggy.
When Jo Ann reached the spring, she set the bucket down on a rock and stood gazing at the overturned box which they had so proudly called their refrigerator the night before. If a real live bear had been the thief, then what had he done with the jars of milk and butter? she asked herself. “I’m going to see if I can find a clue. There ought to be tracks somewhere around here.”
She began looking among the ferns and rocks along the bank of the river beyond the spring in search of some sign of the marauder. Carefully she examined every track. Here were their own tracks made the night before, and the tiny footprints of a squirrel, but not a sign of big padded footprints made by a large, heavy animal.
Still unwilling to give up, she jumped from stone to stone across the swiftly flowing stream, and began searching the opposite bank. A moment later, with a cry of satisfaction, she dropped to her knees and began examining some huge tracks in the soft earth.
“It was a bear, all right!” she exclaimed out loud. “Here’s where he crossed the river—but, gee, what a big one!” Instinctively she glanced all around as though expecting to see the bear. “I bet he smelled our bacon and crossed right here.” She began slowly jumping back over the stones, watching for any sign left by the recent thief.
When in midstream she caught a glimpse of a familiar-looking object a short distance ahead. So suddenly did she stop that she lost her balance and toppled off into the swiftly rushing stream.
Gasping from her sudden plunge into the icy water, she scrambled back up on the rock. “Gosh, that water’s cold!” she shivered. “But since I’m already wet I might as well go on and see if my eyes are deceiving me.”
With the water foaming about her knees, she carefully picked her way down the stream to a large boulder hidden under an overhanging tree. Then, reaching down, she picked up the object that had been wedged between the boulder and the bank.
“Just as I thought,” she said to herself. “Here’s our jar of butter. It won’t do anyone any good because the jar’s broken and there might be glass in the butter, but at least I have proof now that those people at the cave didn’t steal our things—I can show Florence and Peg the bear tracks, too.”
She hastened back up the stream to the spring, and forgetting the bucket of water she had come after, ran on to the house. So eager was she to tell the girls of her discovery that she did not notice that her wet skirt was flapping about her legs and the water sloshing in her shoes.
“Why, Jo, what in the world’s happened?” began Peggy as she saw the bedraggled figure running toward her. “Did you see the bear?”
“No, but I found his tracks! And look what else I found!” she held up the broken jar, partly filled with butter. “I told you those people at the cave didn’t get our things.”
On hearing the noise, Florence ran from the kitchen. “What on earth——” she began, then saw what Jo Ann was holding in her hand. “Where did you find that?”
While Jo Ann was explaining the details of her discovery, they heard a slight noise behind them and, turning, saw Mrs. Blackwell standing in the doorway. “I heard all this chatter and had to find out what it was about. You’re a real Sherlock, I see, Jo—you’ve solved the mystery.”
“Yes,” beamed Jo Ann, “and I’ve proved that I was right about the people at the cave not stealing our things.”
After they had talked a few minutes longer, Florence asked, “What’d you do with the bucket of water, Jo? I want to make Mother’s tea, so we can have dinner.”
Jo Ann stared in blank amazement a moment, then said sheepishly, “I forgot it. I was so excited about my discovery that I forgot all about it. I’ll bring it in a minute.”
She was off like a shot and a few minutes later returned with the bucket of water. “I’m sorry I kept dinner waiting so long,” she told them, as she set the bucket on the table, “but I’m glad I’ve solved that mystery. I’m going to solve the other one, too, before I stop.”
Peggy grinned mischievously. “Which mystery do you mean, Jo? The disappearance of those people at the cave or the mystery of the blue-eyed boy?”
“Both. Just give me time.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Florence called shortly afterwards as she came from the kitchen with a pot of tea, which she placed on the table beside her mother’s plate.
“Be there in a minute,” called back Jo Ann. “I’m simply starving.”
She took a plain little print dress out of her bag, then jerked off her wet clothes. “Can I—may I—eat barefooted?” she asked in a muffled voice as she pulled the dress over her head. “It’ll take too long to put on shoes and stockings.”
“When in Mexico do as the peons do,” quoted Peggy, laughing. “That’s your motto, is it? You’ll probably want to use the floor for your table and your fingers for knives and forks, too.”
“No; I haven’t any tortillas to use for knife and fork as they do. Only my feet are peon, anyway, and you can’t see them under the table.” Jo Ann slipped quickly into her place at the table where the others were already seated.
Mrs. Blackwell laughed gaily. “You girls are as good as a tonic,” she declared a little later. “I haven’t laughed so much for months. I feel much stronger today, too. I think I’ll take a short walk later on when it gets cooler.”
Florence beamed as she leaned over and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I knew you’d get well up here. I’m going to write Daddy this very afternoon and tell him what a good patient you are and how much better you look already.”
“You can do that right after dinner,” put in Jo Ann. “I’m going to wash the dishes to make up for running away and leaving you and Peg to get dinner alone. I promise to be good after this.”
“You mean till next time,” laughed Florence.
“Well, of course, when there’s something important——” began Jo Ann.
“We understand, Jo,” smiled Mrs. Blackwell.
As soon as they had finished eating and the girls had stacked the dishes and carried them to the kitchen, Jo Ann turned to Florence. “Now get out of here, young lady. I told you I was going to wash the dishes. You go and write that letter to your father.”
She caught Florence by the shoulders and playfully pushed her out of the kitchen and across the yard.
“Peg, I might let you wipe the dishes if you’ll promise to be good,” she told her as she returned to the kitchen.
“That’s really quite considerate of you, my dear,” smilingly retorted Peggy. “I appreciate the honor very much.”
Gay chatter accompanied the rattle and clatter of dishes as the two girls made quick work of their dishwashing. As they worked, their conversation drifted back to the subject of the bear and the pigs.
“I can’t imagine living out in a wild, lonesome place like this and not owning a gun, can you, Peg?” asked Jo Ann. Without waiting for an answer she went on: “It’d be a shame to let that old bear come back and get the rest of those pigs when we have a gun and know how to shoot it. I’m going down there this afternoon and look the place over. If I can find a ledge or some place where I can be practically out of danger, I’m going to give Mr. Bear a warmer reception than he’s looking for.”
“I’m not very keen about a bear hunt myself, but if you go, I’m going with you. I have my doubts about Mrs. Blackwell’s letting us go, though.”
Jo Ann let her hands lie idly in the soapy dishwater while she pondered over how to meet Mrs. Blackwell’s objections. “I wonder,” she said finally, “if she would be willing to let us go if we get María’s husband—Juan—to go with us. I believe she would. I heard her say that she thought Juan was one of the most dependable, trustworthy peons she ever knew. We’d be safe enough if he’d go with us, because he’d have his dagger—stiletto, I believe it’s called. The Mexicans’re mighty keen and quick about using them, I’ve heard. Of course, no one’s planning to get at such close quarters with a bear, but if worst came to worst——”
“Don’t mention such a thing,” protested Peggy. “It scares me just to think about it. I’d run for the nearest tree.”
“You would! Don’t you know that’s the worst thing you could do? Never turn your back on a bear. He’s not likely to attack you, if you hold your ground.”
“Well, if you think I’m going to stand perfectly still and let Mr. Bear look me over and decide whether he likes nice juicy white meat as his diet, you’re mistaken. Nothing doing, Jo.”