The Mystery of the Death Trap Mine - M. V. Carey [1]
Pete nodded. “I know. But right now Allie is here in Rocky Beach. She told me she and her uncle needed to pick up some stuff from the house, and her uncle had business in town.
And something’s up with her. She’s just busting with some great news and she’s going to come tell us about it before she and her uncle leave for New Mexico.”
Bob sighed. “And it started out to be such a peaceful summer.”
“Never mind,” said Jupiter. “She is leaving again — soon, one hopes! Pete, how long will Allie be here?”
“Only until tomorrow!” said a voice from behind the curtain that separated the little laboratory section of the trailer from the office. Pete groaned as the curtain was pulled to one side and Allie Jamison stepped out, grinning. She looked like a young rodeo rider in her faded jeans and western shirt.
Her face was tanned and her long, tawny hair was sunstreaked. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” she asked innocently. But her hazel eyes sparkled with malicious glee.
“How did you get in here?” demanded Pete.
Allie laughed. She went to the desk, pulled herself up onto it, and sat there cross-legged.
“I got here ahead of all of you,” she said. “There’s a painting of the great San Francisco fire on the back fence of this place, and in the painting there’s a little dog watching the fire.”
Jupe slouched wearily. “And there’s a knothole in the dog’s eye. You stuck your finger through the knothole, undid a catch on the inside of the fence, and the boards swung open.” Jupiter was referring to Red Gate Rover, one of several secret entrances to the salvage yard that the boys had devised.
“You deduced right this time,” said Allie. “I watched you guys open that gate at least a dozen times last summer. And I didn’t have to be an Einstein to figure out that you had some kind of secret hideout back here.”
“Go ahead, Allie,” said Pete. “Rub it in. How did you get in here?”
Allie went on with obvious delight. “You guys aren’t as smart as you think! There’s a sign that says ‘Office’ on top of a pile of junk right inside that gate. But the arrow on the sign doesn’t point to the junkyard office. So I figured it must point to your detective headquarters. And I was right! I just followed the arrow through the junk … and ended up in front of that sliding panel.” Allie pointed to a panel at the back of the trailer. “That’s darn good detective work, if I do say so myself,” said Allie.
“We must put a lock on that panel,” said Jupe.
“Yeah, and take down that sign!” added Pete.
“Don’t bother,” snapped Allie. “I am leaving tomorrow, and I don’t care about your silly secrets anyway.” She gave a saucy toss of her head. “Besides, I’ve got better things to do.”
“Such as what?” demanded Pete.
Allie leaned forward intently. “I’ve got a case of my own,” she said. “I’m going to investigate like you guys, and I’m going to keep my Uncle Harry from having the wool pulled over his eyes.”
“Oh?” said Jupe. “Is your Uncle Harry incapable of taking care of himself?”
Allie’s face was serious. “My Uncle Harry is Harrison Osborne, and he’s no dope,” she told them. “He made a couple of fortunes in the stock market before he retired and bought that Christmas tree ranch in New Mexico. But when it comes to people, he can really be dumb! ”
“And you’re smarter?” Pete laughed.
“I can spot a phony when I see one,” said Allie. “The place my uncle bought once belonged to a mining company. There’s a mine on it — Death Trap Mine.”
“That’s a great name,” jeered Pete. “What was in the mine? Dinosaur bones?”
“Silver,” said Allie. “The mine’s dead now. The silver’s all gone. It’s called Death Trap Mine because a woman once wandered in there and fell down a shaft and was killed. Some of the old-timers in Twin Lakes — that’s the town where Uncle Harry’s got his place —
they say the woman’s ghost still haunts the mine. Of course, I don’t believe a word of that.
But there is a spook around. He’s the guy who bought the mine and a hunk of land around it from my uncle.”
An angry