The Mystery of the Death Trap Mine - M. V. Carey [30]
“Hambone?” questioned Jupe.
Allie pointed. “Way up there, on the top of the ridge, there’s a real ghost town. It’s called Hambone. There was a mine there, too, but it’s played out just like the Death Trap.
There wasn’t any sawmill to save the town, so it died. I’ve never been up there myself. The road is too bad. You need a four-wheel-drive jeep or truck to get up there.”
“Mrs. Macomber had a four-wheel-drive truck,” said Jupiter, “and she certainly went that way.”
Pete looked excited. “Why don’t we? We can follow her trail and see what she’s up to.
Allie, your uncle has a four-wheel-drive truck and …”
“And I can only drive it on the ranch,” Allie reminded him. Suddenly she brightened.
“We can take the horses,” she cried. “The horses could get up there. We really ought to. If Mrs. Macomber had an accident on that road, or if her truck broke down, she might be in bad trouble. We can pack a picnic lunch and tell Uncle Harry that we want to explore a real ghost town.”
“You tell him, Allie,” said Pete. “You can make up stories better than the three of us put together!”
Chapter 14
The End of the Trail
MAGDALENA PREPARED a large picnic lunch for Allie and the Investigators, which they packed into saddle-bags.
“Be careful with the fire when you roast the hot dogs,” Magdalena warned from the porch. “You do not wish to burn down the mountain.” She waved to them as they set out.
Allie was mounted on Indian Queen, her handsome Appaloosa. Jupe, sweating slightly, was astride a stout mare. Pete sat easily on a rawboned gelding, and Bob rode the third of Uncle Harry’s horses, a dappled steed. They passed Thurgood’s gate at a trot, sending the dog into an outburst of barking, and drawing stares from the two Mexicans. The men were now painting Thurgood’s cabin.
Allie was in the lead when they started up the mountainside. Jupe tagged close behind on the mare, who was much more interested in nibbling the grass beside the path than in getting to the top of the slope. Once Allie wheeled Queenie around and seized the reins of Jupe’s horse. “You’ve got to hold her head up!” Allie scolded. “Come on. Get with it!”
Jupe’s face went red. He tugged at the reins and the mare quickened her pace, then she slowed and again ambled on, one plodding step after another.
“It’ll take us all day to get there!” cried Allie.
“Giddap!” Jupe kicked his chubby legs against the mare’s sides, but the mare kept to her stolid pace.
“No one will ever mistake you for the Lone Ranger!” said Bob. But he rode stiffly, looking down at the rugged hillside from time to time. “I’d hate to have a fall here,” he muttered.
They rode on, now and then glimpsing the marks of Mrs. Macomber’s tires in sandy places on the trail. Pine trees on either side blocked their view of the mountainside. It was after one when at last they reached the bare crest of the hills and found themselves ambling down the dusty main street of Hambone. All around them were tinder-dry houses with broken windows and warped, paintless boards pulling away from uprights. Rusted bedsprings lay in the street with old tin cans, battered furniture, and shards of jagged glass.
Allie dismounted and tied her Appaloosa to the railing of a porch in front of what had once been the Hambone General Store. The boys got down, moving stiffly, and secured their mounts.
“It’s pretty bleak.” Pete looked around as if he expected the ghost town to contain an actual haunt.
“Uncle Harry says a real ghost town gets this way,” said Allie. “Vandals come in and break things and throw things out the windows.” She pointed down the street to a big building very much like the one on Wesley Thurgood’s property. The walls and roof were of rusted corrugated iron, and gaping holes opened onto blackness within. “That must be the mine works,” Allie said.
They started toward the huge shed. “Be careful where you step,” warned Allie. “And don’t pick up any of those sheets of iron. The rattlesnakes like to get under things to keep out of the sun, and if you scare a rattler …”
“We know what