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bit into the cones.
    “Kind of wish there was some way to send my kids to Wallace for a while. I’d like a crack at that two-legged varmint. Whooey, think of that — Opie Swisher, first man in history to drop a real, live bigfoot!”
    The heat in Trixie’s cheeks was not from Cap’s fire. Cap didn’t look up.
    “I couldn’t get you young folks to take my kids for a few days, now, could I?”
    The two Beldens were silent.
    “Well, I reckon not.” The man scowled. “Come on, kids; let’s go. Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to find friendlier folks somewhere along the road.”
    The ragtag group went back to the wagon and roared away.
    Trixie let out her breath. “Jeepers, at least there’s a person who’s not panicking.”
    “He’s doing just the opposite,” Cap muttered. “All he’s interested in is murder.”
    “Animals are killed , Cap. It’s people who are murdered!”
    “Well?” Cap prompted.
    “Are you saying that the sasquatch is a—a person?”
    “No,” Cap said slowly, “but I’m not saying its ancestors didn’t start out to be human.”
    In the early evening, while the group was enjoying the food they had cooked over an open fire, yet another visitor, a slovenly young man, appeared. He wandered into the camp and leaned against a pine tree. Warily Trixie studied the unkempt figure. Sunburned and unshaven, he had uncombed yellow hair and an untrimmed yellow mustache. On the other hand, he looked as though he could take care of himself in the mountains.
    “Guess you’ve heard the news,” he said, ambling forward. “There’s a beast on the prowl.”
    “So we’ve heard,” Jim answered for the group. The man looked at the tidy camp. “Are you prepared to defend yourselves?”
    “We have no weapons, if that’s what you mean,” Brian said, “but there should be safety in numbers.”
    “I wouldn’t count on it,” the young man advised. “Are you from around here?”
    “New York State,” Mart answered.
    “Thought you sounded like outsiders. My name is Fred Swisher. I’ve got a camp down-crick a ways.” He jerked a thumb in an indefinite direction, meanwhile staring at the plate of biscuits Miss Trask had just brought to the table.
    Kindhearted Honey asked, “Are you hungry, Fred? We have enough to share.”
    “Thanks,” Fred said, sitting down. “Please pass the butter.”
    Several biscuits later, Fred disappeared down the trail again, calling out a few final warnings about the sasquatch as he went.
    “Now, there’s another man with more on his mind than panic,” said Trixie.
    “Right—food!” Mart said appreciatively. “Swisher!” Trixie suddenly exclaimed. “That was the name of that other man—the one with the kids. I wonder if they’re related.”
    “You’d think they would have mentioned it,” said Honey. “Did they look alike?”
    “Hard to tell, with all the hair on Fred,” said Trixie as she reluctantly got up to help clear the table.
    When the camp was clean enough to suit even Cap, the group gathered around the campfire once again.
    “Want to tell ghost tales?” Hallie drawled. “Oh, Hallie, you wouldn’t!” Di wailed.
    “Let’s sing,” Cap suggested, adding fuel till the flames leaped.
    Trixie loved to sing, and so did the others. Just when the harmony was sweetest and she had the feeling that the pines themselves listened, she became aware of an approaching vehicle. Its lights swung in an arc, striking bark, brush, and boulders, and came to rest pointed straight at the rear of Cap’s truck.
    Three men crawled from the cab. A voice yelled, “Hey, there, Cap!”
    Cap loped around the fire to join the men coming forward. “Hi, guys! Gosh, it’s good to see you. Come meet my friends and relatives.” One voice said, “Look, we’re due at Big Dick creek by midnight. Hurry it up, Will.”
    The driver pleaded, “I’ve got a story for Cap that he’ll never believe.”
    In a jumble of talk and laughter, Cap drew the men to the fire and