CHAPTER VII

THE CHARCOAL MAKER

Peggy and Jo Ann continued to wait silently for the stealthy appearance of the bear. Myriads of tiny stars winked down at them as they watched the full round moon sail slowly across the deep sapphire sky. Now and then the chirp of a near-by cricket or the croak of a frog could be heard above the constant splashing of the river.

In their hasty preparations for the bear hunt they had forgotten their sweaters, and now they shivered a little, both from excitement and the chill mountain air. The jagged edges of the rock felt anything but comfortable, and their muscles ached from sitting in one position so long. Jo Ann felt dizzy from trying to watch the light high on the mountain side and the dark shadows below her at one and the same time. Was there some connection between this new mystery and the mystery of the blue-eyed boy? she wondered.

When the girls felt they could keep still no longer, Juan stepped out from the shadows and called up to them in Spanish, “The bear no come tonight.”

Jo Ann shook her head. “No, I don’t think he’s coming either. Come on, Peg,” she said, turning around on the ledge. “Let’s get down and stretch our legs.”

Stiffly the two girls scrambled down the pole and began kicking and stretching in an effort to relax their cramped muscles.

Juan began jabbering rapidly in Spanish, and Jo Ann stopped a moment to listen. “The bear no have _hambre_ tonight,” he told her.

She gazed at him questioningly. “_Hombre?_ Man?” she repeated. “_No sabe_ [I do not understand].”

Juan shook his head and began rubbing his hand over his stomach. “No—no _hombre_, _h-ambre_.”

Jo Ann’s face broke into a smile, “Ah, _sí_,” she replied, then turning to Peggy she explained: “He’s trying to tell us that the bear isn’t hungry tonight.”

“I guess he’s right,” agreed Peggy. “Anyway, I’ve had enough. I’m going to the house.”

She started off but had only gone a few steps when she realized Jo Ann was not following. “Aren’t you coming, Jo?” she called to her.

“Yes, in a minute. I want to ask Juan about that light.” Pointing to the light, she asked, “What is it, Juan?”

“Ah, that. It is the light of a _carbonero_.”

“But what is a _carbonero_?” she asked again.

Juan rattled off more Spanish, but Jo Ann shook her head.

“Oh, well, I’ll ask Florence,” she said to herself, then turned to follow Peggy. “_Buenas noches_, Juan,” she called back to him. “Tomorrow night we watch again, _sabe_?”

Juan nodded his head, “_Sí_, señorita.”

The two girls hurried back to the house, and on entering they found Florence and her mother fast asleep. They quickly slipped into their pajamas and snuggled up under the warm blankets. Peggy, worn out from their long vigil, soon fell asleep, but Jo Ann kept wondering about the light. Why was it there? And why did it flare up and die down as it had? The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it had something to do with the blue-eyed boy. She would climb the mountain the next day and find the answer to these questions, she decided. If that really was a signal light, she was going to find out what it was all about. Finally, when the faint rose of dawn was beginning to show in the east, Jo Ann drifted off to sleep.

It seemed to her that she had scarcely closed her eyes when she was conscious of someone calling, “Jo, Jo, wake up. If you want any breakfast you’ll have to hurry.”

There was a strong aroma of coffee and the clatter of dishes being placed on the table. Jo Ann opened her eyes and stared around in surprise as she saw Peggy putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table and Florence helping her mother to her chair.

She sprang quickly out of bed. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner? I didn’t mean to sleep so late. I don’t know what made me——”

She stopped suddenly. The events of the night before flashed through her mind: the bear hunt, the mysterious light, the trip of investigation she had planned up the mountain. If she were to accomplish all she wanted to do today, she had no time to waste.

After a brief sketchy toilet, she slipped into her place at the table and began eating rapidly, scarcely conscious of the food she was putting into her mouth. In spite of Peggy’s and Florence’s pointed remarks, she ate in unruffled silence, her mind apparently a million miles away. “Jo’s on the trail of another mystery,” Peggy laughingly remarked to Florence and Mrs. Blackwell.

Just then Jo Ann looked up and asked, “What does _carbonero_ mean, Florence?”

“A maker of charcoal.” Florence smiled. “I know why you’re asking that question. Peggy told me all about your mysterious light and how you killed the big bad bear.” She laughed teasingly, then added, “That light was just from a charcoal maker’s fire.” Jo Ann felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her. She had been so sure there was some mystery about the light and that it would lead her to the blue-eyed boy, and now Florence said it was only the light of a charcoal maker’s fire. “Every now and then an Indian family will go up in the mountains and stay there several days to make charcoal; then they carry it to the villages to sell.”

At these words a sudden new idea leaped into Jo Ann’s mind. It was so simple that she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Girls, I believe I’ve solved the mystery!” she exclaimed. “That Mexican family of the cave have gone up there on the mountain to make charcoal. I’m on their trail again.”

“I shouldn’t wonder but that you’re right,” agreed Florence. “That would explain why those two boys were gathering wood the other afternoon. They were going to use it to make charcoal.”

Jo Ann burst out impulsively, “I’m going up there on the mountain and see if that really is our family of the cave. Who wants to go with me?”

“I think you’re probably going on a wild-goose chase, but I’ll go with you,” Florence replied. “It’ll not be any easy matter to locate the family, even if we can see the smoke from their fire.” She turned to her mother, “You don’t object, do you, if we go up there?”

Mrs. Blackwell hesitated a moment, then answered, “Oh, I think it’ll be all right for you to go if you’ll be very careful and be back before dark.” She smiled over at Jo Ann. “I know you’ll never be satisfied till you find out if your blue-eyed boy’s up there.”

“It won’t take us long,” Jo Ann said confidently. “That light didn’t look as if it were very far away.”

Florence and her mother exchanged amused glances, and then Florence remarked, “We’d better take some lunch with us. It’s lots farther than you think, Jo.”

“I’m not going,” spoke up Peggy. “I’m going to stay here with Mrs. Blackwell.”

Jo Ann sprang up from the table. “Well, let’s get busy this minute and get our work done and get started.” She began stacking the dishes hurriedly.

A few minutes later she was washing the dishes so vigorously that Florence prophesied there wouldn’t be enough left unbroken to set the table for supper. In a surprisingly short time they had finished the dishes, packed the lunch, and were ready to start.

“I believe I’ll carry the gun along,” Jo Ann remarked. “We might see a rabbit or squirrel—or something.”

Soon the two girls were winding their way up a donkey trail that led up the mountain side. From the very first they kept stopping now and then to scan the mountain for the smoke from the charcoal maker’s fire.

Finally Jo Ann cried triumphantly, “I see it! Look, right up there!”

“Yes, that’s it!”

Both girls began searching for a path leading toward the spiral of smoke.

“I know they couldn’t have climbed up this steep place,” Jo Ann remarked. “They’d have had to be human flies to do that. That old grandmother and the little children couldn’t possibly have made it up here.”

“Well, the only thing to do is to follow this trail a little farther and see if we can’t find some trace of the way they did go.” Florence started along the path, Jo Ann close at her heels.

“What on earth made them go to such an outlandish place to make their charcoal, Florence? It looks as if they could’ve found a much better place.”

“Well, you see, the Indian has no way to cut his wood except with a machete—that’s just a big, long butcher knife. He hunts for the fallen limbs and trees that don’t require much chopping.”

“Believe me, if I were a charcoal maker, I’d hunt an easier place to reach than that.”

After they had walked for some distance without noticing any sign of another path leading up the mountain, Jo Ann called, “Say, I believe we’ve gone too far. We must’ve missed their path. That smoke’s back of us now.”

“You’re right. So it is. We’ll have to turn around and go back. If we don’t find that path soon, I think we’d better go back home. The sun is terrifically hot now.”

They began retracing their steps, searching more carefully than before.

“That family would’ve been bound to leave some sort of a trail,” Jo Ann kept saying.

When at last they reached the spot where they had first seen the smoke, Florence said in a discouraged tone, “How about giving it up and going back home now? I’m tired and hot.”

“Not yet,” Jo Ann urged as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “Let’s sit down in the shade of this cliff and rest for a while, and then we’ll feel more like going on.” She dropped down on the ground and leaned back against the cool rock.

Wearily Florence followed her example and began fanning herself with her hat.

After she had rested a few minutes, Jo Ann rose, saying, “I’m going to take another look around here while you rest awhile longer.”

She wandered down the trail a short distance beyond the cliff, searching for a place where it would be possible to climb up the mountain side. “If we can’t find their path, then I’m going to find another way to get up there,” she told herself determinedly.

A few minutes later she started up the steep bank, steadying herself now and then by catching hold of the scrubby bushes growing out of the crevices of the rocks. After climbing about twenty-five or thirty feet she found herself on a rocky ledge above the cliff.

Her eyes suddenly began to twinkle. “I believe I’ll slip around this ledge till I’m right above Florence and drop a pebble or two on her, just for fun.”

As she was slipping quietly along the ledge she heard a faint moaning sound. She stopped instantly and listened. “What on earth is that? Sounds like someone in distress. Just suppose it’s a wild animal!” She strained her ears again to listen. Once more the moaning sound floated down to her a little more distinctly.

“That’s a human being!” she told herself excitedly. “I believe it’s more than one person. Sounds as if there must be several in distress. I wonder if it could be that family from the cave in some kind of trouble.”

She leaned over the edge of the cliff and called down excitedly, “Florence! Oh, Florence!”

“Where are you?” Florence called back in a surprised voice.

“Right over you.”

Florence stepped out hastily and stared up at Jo Ann. “How did you ever manage to get——”

“Did you hear that queer moaning sound a minute ago?” Jo Ann broke in.

“Why, no—what——”

“I believe someone’s in terrible trouble. Come on up here and let’s see if we can find them. Be sure to bring the gun.”

“How can I get up there?” Florence asked hesitatingly.

“Go down the trail a little way, and I’ll show you.”

In a few minutes Jo Ann was helping to pull Florence up the bank. No sooner had she reached the ledge than Jo Ann ejaculated, “Listen! There’s that sound again.”

Florence’s eyes stretched to their widest as the cry of distress reached her ears.

“Mercy! That’s awful,” she murmured, low voiced.

“That sound’s coming from right up there!” Jo Ann pointed almost straight above. “Come on, I believe we can get up around this way.”