THE MYSTERY OF THE BLUE 



GOOSE 



BY DAN BEARD 



{Continued) 

 CHAPTER IX. 



TO THE HOME OF THE ECUTOCKS 



TNCE the time when men with 

 prehensile feet left their ar- 

 boreal dwellings to congre- 

 gate in bands or tribes, 

 through all the ages down to 

 the present day, the actions 

 of head men, chief statesmen, 

 rulers and kings have been 

 governed to a more or less 

 extent by their individual ra- 

 cial or national supersti- 

 tions, and thus imaginary 

 demons, devils, hobgoblins, wehrwolves, 

 fairies, gnomes and ghosts have settled 

 or altered the fates of nations, exercising 

 almost as much influence on history as if 

 these glimmering fantasies really existed 

 outside of the minds of the credulous people. 

 Why, then, should we think it strange 

 that a delightfully simple mind like Big 

 Pete Darlinkel's should believe in wehr- 

 wolves and witches? Why find fault with 

 him for hesitating to follow the trail of the 

 mysterious maiden who came from no- 

 where to peep at two mortals imprisoned in 

 a giant vault in the Rocky Mountains ? 



I did not suggest to Pete the advisability 

 of following the trail, neither did I find fault 

 with him for not doing so when he discov- 

 ered the stranger's presence. I knew and 

 respected my friend's personal superstitions 

 but secretly planned to make some more 

 thorough investigation on my own part, 

 knowing that whoever our strange neighbors 

 might be, they at least were not possessed of 

 wings, and must have some reasonable 

 manner of entering and leaving the park. 



Peter had gone out to look for game to 

 replenish our larder, and I left camp to 

 again examine the girl's tracks. The season 

 was growing late, cold weather was ap- 



proaching, and it seemed to me that if we 

 intended to escape from the park before next 

 summer it was necessary to do so at once. 



I realized that we were in a most serious 

 position and began to examine the faint 

 trail with that concentration of mind only 

 attainable by a man in a desperate situation. 



Down on all fours I crept over the ground, 

 and, to my own surprise and joy, I found 

 that I could here and there detect a turned 

 leaf, the twist of which indicated the direc- 

 tion taken by the party who made the trail. 

 I noticed that the bits of wood, pine cones 

 and sticks scattered around were darker on 

 the parts next to the ground, and it only 

 required simple reasoning for me to con- 

 clude that when the dark side was upper- 

 most the object had recently been disturbed 

 and rolled over. 



It was a day of great discoveries. I found 

 that what is true of the sticks is equally true 

 of the pebbles, and a displaced fragment of 

 stone immediately caught my eye. With 

 the tenacity of a bloodhound I stuck to my 

 task, until I suddenly found myself at the 

 base of the park wall, where the twin flower 

 pass leads diagonally up the towering face 

 of the beetling precipice. 



For fear that I might have made some 

 mistake, I retraced my steps and carefully 

 went backward towards the bullberry 

 thicket near camp. On the back trail I 

 came upon some distinct and obvious foot- 

 prints in a dusty place, but so deeply inter- 

 ested was I in the hidden signs, the slight 

 but telltale disturbances of leaf and soil, 

 that I once passed these plainly-marked 

 tracks with only a glance, and would have 

 done so the second time had not their 

 marked peculiarities accidentally caught 

 my attention. 



