The Mystery of the Death Trap Mine - M. V. Carey [31]
They reached the doorway of the mine works and stopped. The door had long since fallen away, and Allie and the boys looked into a gloomy building.
“Wonder if that floor would hold us,” said Bob. “Or is it rotten?”
“That’s of no interest to us,” said Jupiter. “The truck is not here. We didn’t come simply to tour an abandoned town.” He went to the middle of the street to examine a set of tire tracks. “Mrs. Macomber certainly reached the top of the crest,” he announced. “If she hadn’t, we would have found her on the trail.” He went on, not stepping on the tracks, until he reached the corner of the mine works. “Aha!” he said loudly.
“What is it?” Allie darted to join him, and Pete and Bob followed her.
There, behind the ruined building, stood Mrs. Macomber’s truck.
“Mrs. Macomber!” shouted Allie. She ran toward the truck. “Mrs. Macomber! It’s me!
Allie!”
She had almost reached the truck when there
was a nasty whirring sound.
“Allie! Stand still!” shouted Jupe.
Allie tried to throw herself backward. Her
feet slipped from under her and she went down.
A deadly, sinister shape seemed to fly from
beneath the truck. Allie flung herself to one side,
and a wicked head with fearful wide jaws and lethal fangs struck at the spot where, an instant before, she had been.
Allie didn’t move.
The rattler lay stretched to its full length for just a second, then once more sounded its hideous
warning and began to pull its body into coils.
“Keep still!” whispered Pete. He picked up a
large stone, took aim, and hurled it at the rattler.
“Bull’s-eye!” cried Bob. “Right on the head!
Boy that was close.”
Allie scrambled to her feet, and looked with
horror at the struggling, writhing snake.
“Thanks,” was all she said to Pete, but she was
very pale and shaking.
“Nothing any well-trained boy scout wouldn’t do,” said Pete. He crouched and peered under the truck, making sure he kept a safe distance. “Guess that was the only rattler there,” he said.
Allie and the boys stepped around the dying snake and began to examine Mrs.
Macomber’s truck. It was empty. There was no luggage of any kind, and there were no keys in the ignition.
“If she was called away on a family emergency, she wouldn’t have left the truck here,”
said Bob.
“I don’t get it,” said Allie. “Where’d she go, and where is her stuff?”
“Could she be hiding someplace?” wondered Pete.
They searched the town, peering through windows, opening doors that moved on rusty hinges. They found nothing but broken furniture and heaped-up trash. Here and there they found footprints. But they saw no trace of Mrs. Macomber.
“There have been people here,” said Jupe. “A number of people.” They returned to the truck and stared at the ground. There were footprints — some had been made by Allie and the boys, but some had not. Twenty yards from the truck there were the marks of a second set of tires.
“Someone else came here in a jeep or a truck,” said Pete. They followed the tire tracks along the street to the edge of the abandoned town. There, leading down the far side of the mountain, was a road — a narrow road, but one that was still in fair condition.
Jupiter was quiet for a moment. “She could have arranged to meet someone here,” he said. “Yes … that’s it. She drove up from Twin Lakes, transferred her belongings to another vehicle, abandoned her truck, and left. Allie, where does this road go?”
“I’m not sure,” Allie admitted. “I’ve never
been here before. But I know there’s a lot of desert on the other side of the mountains.”
A cloud of dust billowed above the trees on
the slope below them, and they heard the
sound of a motor labouring up the grade.
“She’s coming back!” exclaimed Pete.
But it was not Mrs. Macomber returning!
Instead, a jeep appeared, bouncing slightly
and skidding on loose gravel. At the wheel was
an elderly man who wore a wide-brimmed
straw hat. A woman in a printed cotton dress sat beside him.
“Hi there!” The man grinned and stopped
his jeep.