The Mystery of the Monster Mountain - M. V. Carey [33]
It was after ten by Pete’s watch when they reached the tower.
“I hope we’re not too late,” gasped Jupiter.
Without even stopping to catch his breath, he began to climb the wooden ladder to the top of the tower. Pete and Bob followed.
“Hot diggity!” said Pete. “We can see the inn from here, and the ski slope and the meadow.”
Jupe rummaged in his knapsack and
took out the binoculars. He put them to
his
eyes
and
focused
them.
“Joe
Havemeyer’s halfway up the ski slope,” he
reported.
Jupiter kept the glasses trained on
Havemeyer as the man climbed. He
reached the meadow after ten minutes and
marched straight toward the pine trees on
the far side of the open area. In a few
minutes, he disappeared into the trees.
Jupe lowered the binoculars. “The
western side was yours, Pete. Did you get
very far into the trees when we were
looking for tracks yesterday?” he asked.
“Not really,” Pete answered. “A few
yards, maybe. I kept in sight of the
meadow.”
“Havemeyer went in among those
trees. Does he go there every day? What
could be there?”
“You said his trips have something to do
with the bank?” asked Bob. “What could be
there that has anything to do with a bank?”
“Trees,” said Pete. “More trees. Still more trees. Rocks, squirrels, jays, chipmunks, and …”
“Wait a second I” said Jupe suddenly. “The cabin!”
“What cabin?” asked Pete.
“The hermit’s cabin. Remember, Gabby Richardson said that the hermit who lived on Monster Mountain built a cabin on the high meadow. We didn’t see any building when we were up there. It must be hidden in the trees. That could be where Havemeyer goes!”
“And what does the hermit’s cabin have to do with the bank?” asked Bob.
“I don’t know,” Jupe admitted sadly.
The boys unwrapped the sandwiches Anna had made for them and sat cross-legged in the tower to eat. From time to time Jupiter looked through the binoculars at the meadow and the ski slope. After almost an hour, Havemeyer emerged from the stand of trees to the west of the meadow and started toward the ski slope.
“He’s coming down,” said Jupiter. “Now it’s our turn to go up there. Look, let’s go back to the inn and announce we’re going to spend the afternoon at the campground, then cook our dinner there. We’ll leave right away with our food and equipment. No one will expect to see us for hours, and we can sneak up to the meadow through the trees on the north side of the ski slope. We’ve got to find what it is that brings Havemeyer there every day.”
“Oh, my aching legs,” groaned Pete. He crumpled his sandwich wrapper and put it into Jupe’s knapsack. “Let’s get started,” he said.
The return to the campground was quicker than the trek out to the fire tower. The down-hill grade was so steep that the boys had to brace themselves to keep from running.
There was a car parked at the campground when the boys reached it. A short, balding man was looking with dismay at the almost dry creek, while a stout woman unpacked dishes from a picnic basket.
“Pretty sad, isn’t it?” said the man, when he saw the boys. “I wanted to get in some fishing.”
“It’s been a dry season,” Bob told him. “The water’s low everywhere.”
“Harold, let’s not stay,” said the woman quickly. “Let’s go to Bishop and stay in a motel.”
“I am not spending money on motels when I’ve got so much tied up in camping gear,” said the man. “Anyway, it’s cool here.” He pointed to the tower. “Does the trail take you up there?” he asked Bob.
“Yes. It’s a pretty stiff hike.”
The man chortled. “I could use it,” he told the boys. “I’ve let myself get out of condition.”
The boys walked on, making good time without actually running, and in fifteen minutes were back at the inn. When they went into the living room, Joe Havemeyer was standing near the fireplace