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the others in a sweeping glance. “How about it, gang? Are we staying, too?”
    “That’s what we came for,” Trixie said sturdily. “All in favor?”
    “Aye,” they all said—including Miss Trask.
    A small sigh was heard. “I lied,” Di confessed. “I don’t want to go home and scare all our folks to death. But I don’t want to stay here and scare myself to death, either!”
    “Don’t fret,” Miss Trask said kindly. “You know that Knut and Cap will look out for us.

It Had Hands • 6

    MISS TRASK ROSE from her thronelike chair. “I do think it is time we hike down that mountain. It occurs to me that it may be a good idea to prepare our dinner before dark.”
    On the way home, Trixie wondered what else had occurred to Miss Trask. Walking close to Cap, Trixie watched the steady, rhythmic placing of his moccasined feet, the swinging of his shoulders, and the smooth coil of his tied-back brown hair. She tried, but she just didn’t know Cap well enough to read his face. Had he put aside the worry about the sasquatch? If so, at least Cap knew what he was putting aside.
    The group stopped at intervals to drink sparingly from canteens. About halfway home, during one of their rest stops, Knut snapped his fingers.
    “Rats!” he said. “I forgot to pick up Tank’s bag of dust.”
    “Sounds like a vacuum cleaner chore,” Honey giggled.
    Knut grinned. Smoothing back his bird wings of black hair in a gesture that reminded Trixie so much of her father, he said, “Maybe I’d better go back. I can catch up with you if you’ll poke along.”
    “Oh, let’s not any of us do anything alone,” Di urged.
    “I agree with Di,” Miss Trask said firmly, and the others followed her down the trail.
    “Okay, I’ll just charge Tank’s ‘t’ings’ at the Mercantile,” Knut said, matching strides with Trixie on the downhill hike.
    A thin cry floated on the wind: fleeoweep ....
    Di promptly threw both arms around Trixie’s neck. “Where is it?” she squealed.
    “Maybe I could tell if you’d stop choking me!”
    “That cry came from a long way off,” Cap decided.
    When the group reached the clearing among the tall pines on Champion Creek, it was apparent that no monster had visited their campground. Humans obviously had, though.
    Trixie snatched up a piece of paper torn from a grocery sack. Large lipsticked letters read: BEWARE OF THE BEAST!
    “Now, this is mysterious,” Trixie gulped.
    Honey pulled an envelope from under a water pail. “This one says, ‘Go home now!’ Oh, how awful!”
    On the camp table’s washable surface, somebody had written with charcoal from Cap’s dead fire: everybody’s CLEARING OUT. ADVISE YOU DO THE SAME.
    “I’m frightened,” Di wailed.
    “Look, the handwritings are all different,” Trixie declared. “That means that several people have been in camp.”
    “That’s right,” said Cap, “and there’s nothing mysterious, awful, or frightening about it. That guy from Walla Walla simply started a panic.”
    “Let ’em panic,” Hallie drawled. “That leaves us with a big hunk of the Joe country for our private playground.”
    “W-We’ve already got too much space to suit me,” Di quavered.
    Miss Trask took charge. “We have work to do. Di, suppose you peel potatoes. Mart will help you. Honey, we’ll need a salad. Jim, fresh water.”
    Cap volunteered to build and tend the fire. Trixie, who hated kitchen duty, began gathering pinecones to use for kindling. A slight wind had brought down hundreds within easy scavenging distance.
    As she carried them to Cap, who was splitting wood, a station wagon pulled up behind Cap’s truck. A rangy man climbed out. Several children scrambled out of the jumble of boxes and bedrolls to cluster around the man like a litter of pups. The man watched as Cap formed a small mound of pinecones and dry twigs.
    “It appears you ain’t aimin’ to take off,” he said.
    “Looks that way,” Cap said pleasantly. He struck a match. Flames