The Red Chipmunk Mystery (15 page)

“
Gosh!
” Djuna said, and he gulped and felt a little sick. He had been able to maintain his usual appearance before Joan but now that he was alone with Buddy he couldn’t pretend any longer. “
Plenty!
I acted that way because I didn’t want Joan to know. Mr. Scissors is afraid she’ll be scared.”

“
Scared!
” Buddy said. “Say, if you keep on acting the way you are I’ll be scared myself.
What’s
the
matter?
”

Djuna gulped again and put up a hand to quiet Buddy while he organised things in his own mind. He was trying to figure out what had to be done and how to do it in the quickest time without letting either his fear or excitement interfere. He decided he’d have to tell Buddy everything to make him understand.

“Do you remember those footprints I found beside the spring at our camp near Frenchtown two mornings ago?” he asked.

“
Sure, I remember!
” Buddy said and he was tense with excitement now, too.

“Well, while you were waiting for me to go up into the slate quarry,” Djuna went on, “I was telling Mr. Scissors that those two men who wrecked his wagon that same afternoon had
exactly
the same kind of footprints.”

“
How
did
you
know
that
?” Buddy whispered.

“I looked for them and found them—around the wagon and around their car,” Djuna said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Scissors thought I—I was im—im—thinking up things. He told me to forget about it because he didn’t want Joan to be scared.”

“
Gee!
I don’t blame him,” Buddy said. “It—it scares
me
.”

“I told him I would forget it,” Djuna said, “but I couldn’t. There are a lot of other things I thought of, but it would take too long to tell you now. But just as we were coming down the hill towards the wagon a few minutes ago I was ahead when we came around the bend. Remember?”

“
Jeepers
, yes,” Buddy said. “You thought you saw a deer.”

“I was just pretending,” Djuna said, “because I wanted you to be quiet and because I didn’t want Joan to see what I saw. I got her to look in the other direction.”

“
Jiminy crimps! What
did you see?” Buddy said, and his voice was almost a squeak.

“
I saw those two same men!
” Djuna said, and he felt a little sick again. “They were
taking
Mr. Scissors up that narrow road into the slate quarry!”

“What do you mean,
taking
him?” Buddy gasped.

“One of them had a gun, an automatic, I think,” Djuna said as calmly as he could. “He was pushing it into Mr. Scissors’ back and
making
him go with them!”

“
Oh, my gosh!
” Buddy moaned, and his red hair seemed to be standing straight up on his head. “What’ll we do?”

“We mustn’t let Joan know,” Djuna said. “And we’ve got to hurry. When we go back over to the wagon I’ll suggest that you and Joan walk on ahead to meet Mr. Furlong and Mr. McGinty, and that I’ll wait until Mr. Scissors wakes up and come along with him. They ought to be coming along any time. When you meet them you tell them what has happened, without letting Joan hear you, if you can. Then they’ll know what to do.”

“But what are
you
going to do?” Buddy asked.

“I’m going to trail the two men and find out where they took Mr. Scissors,” Djuna said, and although he said it calmly he didn’t feel at all calm. “I noticed it was kind of wet up there in the quarry and I’m sure I can follow their footprints. Then we’ll know where to find Mr. Scissors.”

“O-o-o-oh!” Buddy said, and his eyes were as round and as large as a full moon. “Suppose they catch you, too?”

“That,” said Djuna, “is what I’ll have to be careful of.” He turned to go back to the wagon and added, “Now, try to be calm and not let Joan know what’s happened.”

“I
will
,” Buddy said, “but it’s going to be awfully hard.”

When the two boys sauntered back to the wagon as casually as they could Joan didn’t pay any attention to them. She was rearranging her clean clothes in the little bureau. With an effort that was almost more than he could manage, Buddy said quietly, “Hey, Joan. Let’s walk on ahead and meet Mr. Furlong and Mr. McGinty. They’ll give us a ride back in their car.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Joan said, “although it would be fun. I have to drive Old Blade when Granpa wakes up.”

“I’ll drive,” Djuna said. “I don’t weigh much more than you do. Old Blade won’t know the difference.”

“Do you like wintergreen berries?” Buddy put in. “I noticed some up the road when we came out of the woods.”

“Oh, I love them,” Joan said, and she slammed the last drawer of the bureau shut and came down the steps. “Granpa will probably wake up pretty quick, and I’d
love
to have a ride in Mr. McGinty’s car!”

“Okay,” Buddy said, pretending to be indifferent about the whole thing. “We better take Champ with us, too. He needs the exercise. We’ll walk until we meet the trooper’s car.”

“That’s a good idea,” Djuna said. “He’s getting fat.” Djuna unsnapped Champ’s leash where it was fastened under the wagon, and Champ went tearing around them in a wide circle with his red tongue hanging out. “We’ll catch up to you.” Joan smiled at him and wiggled her fingers good-bye. They started up the road with Champ trotting between them.

When they had disappeared from sight Djuna debated for a moment whether or not he should take Mr. Harley’s shotgun with him into the quarry. He decided against it because he didn’t know how to shoot a shotgun very well and he was afraid he might shoot himself.

He found the footprints of the man who had the shoes with the crossed welts on the soles and followed them across the road without any difficulty. He lost them in the dry ground of the road leading into the quarry but, as soon as he was a little way in where the sun could not get through the almost primeval forest, he picked them up again and had no difficulty in following them. He went cautiously and as quietly as he could, stopping to listen every few feet so that he wouldn’t walk into an ambush. The great chasms where slate had been taken out loomed up on each side of him every few hundred feet. In some places there were pits on each side with barely more than the width of the overgrown road between them. He was terrified that one of the men he was tracking might appear at one of these points because he knew he wouldn’t have a chance in the world to escape if he did.

Suddenly, near the edge of one of the pits, the tracks disappeared entirely. Djuna stopped and finally got down on his hands and knees to search the ground more closely. But the tracks had magically disappeared, as though a hand with a brush had reached out of the sky to sweep them away.

It was while Djuna was on his hands and knees that he heard the voices. He looked all around in every direction without stirring and could see no one. The next instant he realised that
they were coming out of the ground beneath him
!

DJUNA IN DANGER

D
JUNA
stretched out on his stomach and clung to the tall grass and weeds in silent desperation. He was so stunned by the voices coming up from some place beneath him that for a few moments fear and shock left him weak and almost helpless. He couldn’t have moved if his life had depended on it. And he knew that his life might depend on his next move. His whole body was soaked with perspiration as he fought to gather his strength and his wits. He lifted his eyes and looked up at the sky and saw clouds drifting lazily across the blue heavens, just as they always had done. Then he looked at the great trees around him, and saw birds winging their way in and out of their branches; and somehow the sky and the trees and the birds gave him strength because they were just as they always had been.

After a time he realised that whoever was talking beneath him had not heard him or someone would have appeared to find out who he was and why he was there. As strength and courage came back to him he strained his ears to hear what the voices were saying, but they were only a jumble of words, rising and falling indistinctly.

It came to Djuna that somewhere close to the spot where he was lying there must be a crevice or crack in the earth that allowed the sound of the voices to escape. He strained his ears to identify the direction from which the voices were coming, and, when he had, he began to inch forward in that direction on his stomach. As he moved slowly the voices became more and more distinct until he came to a place where there was a small crevice in the earth between two small boulders sunk in the ground. The earth had sifted away between the two stones, leaving a small crack. It was not large enough for him to see through, but the voices came to him quite clearly when he put his ear against the crevice.

He recognised Mr. Scissors’ voice immediately and then he recognised the harsh, tough voice of the tall, thin man who had struck at him the day before, and the voice of the man called Louie.

“Listen, granpa,” the harsh voice said. “I’m running out of words and when I do I’m going to pin your ears back so they won’t ever be the same again. Now, for the last time
where
is the bridle you bought at Hilltop?”

“I tell you I’m tryin’ to think,” Mr. Scissors said; and the sound of his voice gave Djuna courage, because Mr. Scissors didn’t sound at all afraid. “It might help my thinkin’ if you’d tell me why you want it and why you went through my wagon yesterday and threw everything galley-west. Now you fellahs
know
that wasn’t a nice thing to do!” Mr. Scissors finished with a chuckle in his voice.

Djuna almost snickered, because he knew Mr. Scissors was stalling for time and he didn’t seem to be in the least concerned about the thin man’s threats.

“I told you once, granpa, that we was looking for that bridle.
Now!
Where is it?” The thin man’s voice became high and shrill, he was so angry.

“Look!” Louie’s voice broke in. “What’sa use in wastin’ any more words? I’ll
make
him tell us!”

“Now, now,” Mr. Scissors said gently. “You’re both workin’ yourselves into a bad case of conniption fits. You—–”

“
Shut up!
” Louie screamed, “or I’ll tear you apart!”

“I told you before,” Mr. Scissors said, and his voice was confident and defiant, “that if you lay a hand on me I’ll
never
remember where that bridle is. I been takin’ one kind of punishment or another nigh on to seventy years and you two fellahs ain’t got any special kind that’ll make me talk if I don’t want to talk. Now, let’s be sociable.”

Djuna heard a snarl and a dull thud that brought his heart up into his mouth and made him a little sick. He knew that he had to do something and do it fast. He knew it wouldn’t do any good for him to try to get down there to help Mr. Scissors, because he was no match for even one of the men, let alone two. It might even do harm, because if the men threatened to hurt him, then Mr. Scissors would tell them what they wanted to know, to save him.

Then he heard Mr. Scissors speak again; and he could tell that even if one of the men
had
hit Mr. Scissors he still had a chuckle in his voice as he said, “Well, you’ll have to do better than that. Or are you just warmin’ up?”

Then Djuna began to back up on his hands and knees, taking great care not to make a sound. He knew he had to get somewhere and call Cannonball McGinty on the telephone to save Mr. Scissors. And he also knew he had to go down to Mike Tromboni’s shoe shop in Cliffton Valley and get Old Blade’s bridle that Mr. Scissors had left there to be repaired. He couldn’t understand why Mr. Scissors, to save himself, didn’t tell the men where the bridle was.

And then, suddenly, just as Djuna was about to get to his feet to run, the things that had been puzzling him for the past two days became clear in his mind. All the things that he hadn’t been able to piece together fitted into each other like the pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. All the things that Mr. Scissors and Socker Furlong had told him became clear in one pattern. For the second time within a few minutes he was so stunned that he couldn’t move.

The next instant he was up on his feet and racing down the narrow, overgrown road towards Mr. Scissors’ wagon with all the power in his sturdy legs. Branches from the bushes and trees whipped against his face so hard that the sting brought tears to his eyes but he didn’t diminish his speed. He ran as though fifty demons were at his heels.

When he arrived at the wagon Old Blade was still drowsing in the shafts. He didn’t even look at Djuna. But a second later, when Djuna let go of the tugs from the singletree, Old Blade nearly fell over, because he was braced against the breastband while he drowsed. He looked around at Djuna in mild reproof as Djuna brought to mind all the things Mr. Pindler had taught him about unharnessing a horse.

He unhooked the hold-back straps from the breeching and unloosened the bellyband and neck strap with two swift motions. He pulled the reins through the turrets on the saddle and left them dangling from Old Blade’s bridle. He stuck the over-check rein through the cheek piece of the brindle and secured it, and then he slipped off all of Old Blade’s harness except the bridle, with sure, quick hands. He coiled each of the reins up until there was only about three feet left on each one, and secured them with their own ends.

Old Blade had not been unhitched with such speed as far back as he could remember and he kept turning his head and looking at Djuna in puzzled wonder.

Then Djuna climbed into the wagon and opened one of the mess boxes and took out a half-dozen pieces of lump sugar. He broke one of them in half and put the rest in his pocket. Next he went around in front of Old Blade and fed him the piece of sugar while he explained things to him.

“Mr. Scissors has always been pretty nice to you, hasn’t he?” Djuna asked as he gave Old Blade the sugar. Old Blade blinked his eyes but he wouldn’t say yes, and he wouldn’t say no.

“Well, he has,” Djuna went on, “and now you’ve got a chance to pay him back a little. A couple of men are threatening to do terrible things to Mr. Scissors unless he tells them where your old bridle is. You’ve got to take me to Cliffton Valley on your back before they can get there.”