The Merriweather Girls in Quest of Treasure Read online

  CHAPTER X

  _THE PROFESSOR'S JOB_

  Within a few days the professor's tent and cot arrived, and after thatMa Patten pleaded in vain for him to stay with them. The old man wasindependent and insisted on getting established in his own quarters.He had already chosen a spot in Lost Canyon with the aid of Indian Joe,who knew the best springs and the best place to pitch a tent.

  And Professor Gillette could not have had a better helper. Under ahuge cottonwood tree, there was a bubbling spring, cool and clear, anddown the creek a short distance was a small pool.

  "Why, there's my bath room!" laughed the old man. "Talk about modernconveniences, I have them all."

  The Merriweather Girls were eager to help the old man get settled. Andwhen the five of them with Tommy Sharpe got to work they soon hadeverything in order. Tommy levelled a space and beat it down until itwas smooth. Judge Breckenridge had suggested that boards be laid for afloor but at this the professor protested vehemently.

  "I've come out here to live the simple life, the life of an explorer.I want to rough it, even endure hardships. It will do me good," heasserted, objecting to anything that might seem like luxury.

  But after a day or two of trying to cook his meals over a small outdoorfire, he accepted a tiny stove from Mrs. Patten. Primitive living wasall right, but it was a waste of time to cook over an open fire.

  And one day he returned from a long hike over the hills and settledinto a rocking chair that the good neighbor had placed before his door,in his absence, and did not protest but took it gratefully. After astrenuous day, it would be good to drop into the restful depths of aneasy chair and enjoy the glories of the canyon.

  But he refused her help very decidedly when she dropped in one morningand found him at his weekly wash. His shirts and overalls were spreadout on a large flat stone in the creek and he was beating themincessantly with a small paddle.

  "I'm enjoying the washing," he declared with a laugh. "I don't mind itat all."

  "But your work, your discoveries?" inquired Ma Patten.

  "They can wait while I get clean! Anyway I haven't had much luck. TheIndians will give me no help at all."

  "Why are you so keen about these Indian relics? We can give you anynumber of arrowheads and baskets and stuff. You're welcome to them ifit will help you any," offered Mrs. Patten sympathetically.

  "That's not exactly what I want," the professor said. "I'm interestedin American Indians, and have always been considered an authority onthe subject. But I'm getting old and younger men are stepping into thefield. They think I'm just a musty old professor with nothing but abook knowledge of Indian ruins. So I have to show them."

  "What's the use?" answered Ma Patten contemptuously. "These youngfellows always can beat us in the end and we might as well give upgracefully."

  "But that isn't all. My job's at stake. If I don't do something toget up-to-date I'll be shoved out. They want men who go out and dospectacular things that get them into the newspapers. I was told thatmy department would have to be snapped up a bit! Isn't that terriblelanguage for educators to use? And if my job goes, I don't know whatI'll do. I've got responsibilities, heavy ones."

  "Have you a large family, Professor Gillette?" asked the woman.

  "No, I have only one daughter but she is an invalid. She was studyingto be a dancer and one slippery day in winter she fell and broke herhip. And she has never been able to dance since."

  "Oh, that's terrible! The poor child!"

  "She's as happy as a lark. She has never given up faith that as soonas she is taken to see a specialist in the city, she will be cured. Itis for that operation that I must earn more money. And with the fearof losing my position in the college you can see why I must make goodthis summer."

  "Well, you'll find plenty of Indian signs around these mountains," Mrs.Patten informed him.

  "That's strange!" The professor exclaimed, "That man, Kie Wicks,claims that there never were Indians in these hills. None to speak of,he said. Told me I was barking up the wrong tree. Oh yes, he wasquite certain I was going to fail. But I mustn't fail! I can't fail!"

  "Of course you won't fail! And you needn't believe a word that KieWicks says. He doesn't want people to come into this canyon. Hebelieves in the myth about the treasure and he makes it hard for anyonewho comes in. One old prospector had to leave because Kie had it infor him. He just couldn't stay."

  "What did Kie Wicks do?" asked the old man.

  "Well, for one thing he would sell the prospector meat and at nightsteal it all back. And the old chap was shot at in the dark andthreatened until he gave up after putting in several months working onthe claims. So you needn't expect any help from that ruffian," stormedMa Patten.

  "I don't know what to do. I must find that Indian village." ProfessorGillette had no notion of giving up, not for all the western bad men hehad ever heard about. He had come to Arizona to find an Indian villageand that he must do.

  "Why don't you go over the hill there? We used to find bits of potteryand arrowheads and even some Indian ornaments made of silver. I have afew of them at home. Be sure to remind me to show them to you. You'llbe interested."

  The professor's face glowed with excitement. "I'd like to ask you formore particulars as to the exact place," he exclaimed.

  "I'll do better than that. Kit will take you over there some day andlike as not you'll find just what you are after," Mrs. Patten assuredhim.

  While they were still talking Tommy Sharpe arrived with a note fromMrs. Breckenridge. It was an invitation to supper that evening.

  "Isn't that kind! I'll be so glad to go. She's a beautiful andgracious woman."

  "It's a sort of party, I judge," said Mrs. Patten, beaming withpleasure and opening a note that Tommy had passed her. "We're allinvited to dinner."

  That was Virginia Breckenridge's way of keeping in touch with herneighbors. On learning of Professor Gillette's business in themountains, she had sent to New York for books on Indian legends, Indianruins and anything that might give the professor a clue to what hewanted to find. And much to her surprise, a book on Indian legends waswritten by Anton Gillette.

  "Our professor is a modest man," laughed Enid. "Imagine him nottelling us that he had written a book. He's got his typewriter withhim, I wonder if he is planning another book."

  "Let's go and ask him," announced Bet, jumping up and starting towardthe door.

  "It's ten o'clock! He'll be sound asleep," said Shirley. "Don't youthink you can wait until morning?"

  Bet had waited and then asked the old man, but she got littlesatisfaction. The professor was shy about his work.

  But that was exactly what he was planning to do. If he could make somediscoveries, get some practical knowledge and then write about it, hewould save his job and increase his income so that his daughter mightget the treatment to restore her health.

  A sum of money had been offered to the old man for research work, andhe had accepted it gladly. He knew from the history of Arizona that alarge Indian village must have been situated in the region of LostCanyon, and it was here that he hoped to find the burial place of thewealthy chief.

  The younger teachers heard of his plan and smiled with condescension.They did not imagine for a minute that the old man could stand thestrenuous trip to the southwest and find the Indian village. It was astunt that they would have hesitated to undertake.

  But Anton Gillette was made of different stuff. Here was his chance,he must win out. As he looked into the pale face of his daughter,Alicia, her eyes glowing with hope both for her father and her ownfuture, he had vowed that no hardships would be too great for him toovercome.

  And here he was in the mountains, camping in Lost Canyon within, hebelieved, arm's length of the ruins. But so far he had not found them.

  Luck was with him, that he knew. Everywhere from the time he had lefthome, he had found friends to help him. They gladly gave him advice,and in the case of The Merriw
eather Girls, they would have been happyto serve him in every way. They were quite indignant when the old manpitched his tent far from the ranch where they could not see him sooften.

  "It will never do," thought the professor. "I'll get soft if they waiton me and give me the idea that I can't do things for myself."

  But the invitation from Virginia Breckenridge was another thing. Thesevisits he loved. They were always helpful. The Judge was asinterested in the finding of the ruins now as the old man himself. Itwas his only way to help the independent professor, who refused allfinancial aid, and the two men were often seen riding the hillstogether, speculating on the prospect of an ancient village there.

  But still they had not found it, after a week of search.

  Someone else was anxious to accompany the old man on his trips. It wasKie Wicks.

  And while Professor Gillette enjoyed the daily visits of the girls andthe occasional calls from Judge Breckenridge or Dad Patten, he foundthe storekeeper very trying. Kie arrived at the tent early and stayedlate.

  "That man acts as if he were spying on me. I wonder what he's afraidof. There is nothing here to steal that I can see."

  This continued for a week and then ended abruptly. After that KieWicks came only once in a long time. This had been Maude's doing.

  "You ain't getting no where at all, Kie. You keep that old book-wormfrom hunting or doing whatever he wants to do. Now if I were you, I'dlet old Booky do his searching, then cook up a plan to do him out ofwhatever he finds."

  "Maude, you're a wonder! Why didn't I think of that myself? Icouldn't have found a better wife anywhere than you."

  So Kie did not appear the next morning.

  But it was not until noon that the professor knew that he had beendeserted. His patience was at an end so he had risen before dawn andleft the tent, striking off over the hills where Mrs. Patten hadindicated. He returned at noon with arrowheads and a stone axe butthere was no sign of ruins.

  But the old man was not discouraged. These signs of Indians merelygave him the necessary urge to investigate.

  Before he had finished lunch the girls arrived.

  "Where's your bosom friend today?" they asked mockingly. "You and KieWicks are almost inseparable. It's quite touching to see suchdevotion," laughed Bet, who knew of the old man's impatience.

  Bet laughed and the contagion of her merriment started the other girlsand their voices echoed back to them from the canyon wall opposite.

  While they stood there, a strange procession appeared around the bendin the trail. A band of horses one after the other, filed by.

  "Poor horses!" exclaimed Bet in sympathy.

  "Horses!" sneered Kit. "Those are not horses, they are just racks ofbones, that's all. And that's the way most of the Indian ponies look."

  The professor was speechless. He watched the procession with interest.Fat squaws rode huddled over their nags, each carrying a baby strappedto her back. Small boys ran beside the horses or clung on behind themother. The men usually rode free and on one of the animals, theprofessor saw an old Indian.

  "I wish I could talk to him," he whispered to Kit, who was standingnear him.

  "You'll have your chance before the day is over. They usually campright here where you are. I'm surprised that Indian Joe suggested thisspot. They are not apt to go far away from here."

  As Kit spoke the squaw heading the procession stopped, and it looked asif she rolled off her horse as she dismounted. She had evidently founda suitable place to camp. The professor was delighted that it was onthe opposite side of the stream where he could watch them. A tepee wasmade almost before the squaws were all out of their saddles. A largepiece of sacking was thrown over small bushes which were tied togetherat the top to form an arch. This was the only shelter put up by theIndians when on the march.

  The men dismounted, sat down by the stream and smoked their pipes,while the women and children scurried about, gathering fire wood andstarting a blaze.

  In a few minutes they had settled down to life for a few days, the lifethat the Indians loved, carefree, indolent and happy.

  The professor was greatly elated. Here was a chance to watch themodern Indian at least and see how he lived. He would have somethingto tell his class.

  "That's Old Mapia," confided Kit. "He's supposed to be about a hundredyears old. You're in luck if you can get him to talk. Some of theyoung ones will translate for him if he gets stuck. I'll send Old Maryover, if he won't talk to you. She can make him tell stories."

  Before the afternoon was over, the professor had invited the old Indianto have a smoke with him, then offered him cookies and otherdelicacies, and while he accepted without a sign of appreciation, theice was broken and when the professor began to ask questions the oldIndian answered as well as he could, and Young Wolf supplied themissing words that his grandfather had forgotten.

  "Yes, once a very long time ago there were many Indians here, a city!"droned the old fellow and the professor edged closer to hear him,fascinated by the wrinkled face.

  "My father--my grandfather, yes, he know. Up yonder somewhere a largevillage, where the Indians make baskets and rugs and silver andpottery, long ago. There were good times then. Indians plenty rich.No white men. My grandfather tell me heaps."

  "Where was the village?" asked Professor Gillette.

  "No find any more,--gone!" The Indian shook his head and with a waveof his hand indicated every hill surrounding the canyon.

  "I think he knows," the professor confided to the girls that afternoonwhen he went up to see Dad Patten. "But it's probably a secret."

  "No, it's on account of the curse," said Kit.

  "But what has the curse to do with it?" the professor asked.

  "Plenty. The daughter of the old chief still walks at times, and shecursed that village, and the Indians try to forget that there ever wassuch a place. None of them will go near it."

  "What does the ghost look like, Kit?" asked Bet.

  "She always wears a costume of deerskin and feathers. And at night shejust appears out of nothing in Lost Canyon. One minute she isn't thereand the next she is. And when she appears she is supposed to cursethose who see her. They run for their lives."

  "Is that true?" Joy's voice was trembling. "If it is, I won't ever gointo this canyon again."

  "Don't worry, Joy. If you are good you'll never see the ghost. Onlythose who are planning to do wrong see her."

  The girls laughed at the timid Joy. "Don't worry, dear," Bet pattedher hand lovingly. "I'll take care of you."

  "Some say," went on Kit, "that the ruin of the village must be leftuntouched, and that any one disturbing it will see the ghost."

  "And that's why Old Mapia won't talk," said the professor. "He'safraid of the curse. It would hasten matters very much if I could getsome reliable information as to the location of the village."

  "And are you really going to hunt for the village after that?" Bet'seyes were glowing.

  "Yes, I'm not afraid of the curse. I'll find that village. Alicia isexpecting me to. I must make good."

  "That's the way to talk, Professor Gillette! And remember this, TheMerriweather Girls will help you in any way we can. We're not afraidof any curse. We're with you, every one of us."

  Joy started to speak. She turned pale then suddenly gave up. "Allright. If Bet leads, I follow!"

  But there was no wild enthusiasm in her promise.