11 I Become Royalty

Chapter 11 IN WHICH I Become Royalty Alice is not at Manorkill Falls. I was certain she would be. Bando and I climbed the steep gorge to the top, searching every cave and ledge along the ascent, and found no sign of her or her pig, no clues to say that they were here. "If Alice," Bando says as we stand on the rim of the gorge, "was in search of a beautiful waterfall, she should be right here where I am." The water roars and tumbles below us, sending up a soft spray that nurtures mosses and maidenhair ferns where it falls. "But she's not," I say. "And I don't think she will be." "Why?" he asks. "Pigs don't care about views and water music. No sensible pig, and Crystal is a sensible pig as we

well know, is going to let anyone, not even Alice, lead her up to this place. Federal Hill is one thing, but Crystal would need pitons for this ascent," I say, looking at all the watercress available for dinner. "That's right. But where is she then?" Bando asks, not really expecting me to answer. Rather, he looks for an answer himself by taking out the map of Schoharie county, which we're in, and the map of Albany county, which we're coming to, and spreading them contiguously. As for me, I've given up trying to think like Alice for the day, and turn to a job I know I can do. I dig a beetle larva out of a decaying log and put it on a thornbush fishhook I made and tied to a fine cord of deer tendon. Then, taking off my moccasins, I wade into the cold water and cast into a pool below a submerged log. A dragonfly skims over the surface, his crystal wings reflecting the sunlight. Wop! I yank, and hook a large trout. Playing it carefully so it won't break my line as it darts from side to side, I concentrate on dinner. After a lively battle, I land the fish.

Bando is still bent over the maps. I clean the trout and wrap it in May-apple leaves, then dig a hole in the earth and build a fire. When the coals are hot, I push them into the hole, place the fish on them, and cover all with leaves, then soil. "There's a farm at the bottom of the gorge," Bando says as I brush the dirt off my hands and sit down beside him. "There aren't many around. The land's too steep." "Hmmm," I say, trying to think like my sister. "Let's go there and ask the farmer if she's been by for corn." "Let's not ask people and get them all stirred up. We know she's all right, but they won't. They'll call the police and we don't want that." "I'm going to ask, anyway," I say. "I think those stones at John Burroughs' home meant change of plans as well as change of direction." "Why do you think that?" "Because that's the first time she's used a plain old pathfinder's sign. She wanted to be sure that message was seen. Furthermore, she signed it with an acorn so I'd make no mistake about who laid the stones.

"And," I go on, still trying to think like Alice, "I've got a hunch she's left the change of plans with a person. Once we talked about how we might leave clues with people if we ever got off the mountain. It's like her to try it, so I'm going to take a chance and speak to that farmer. He's the only one around for miles, and since she's not at this falls, she's doing something radically different." "I still don't think you should," Bando says as I serve him the fish on a nice thin slab of slate, garnished with watercress and crisp daylily roots. "But maybe you're right." We find a log and sit down. A woodthrush sings. His song sounds like water spilling down the rocks in a cool, dark forest. As I listen, I thank Alice in spite of myself. Were it not for her, I would not be hearing that glorious song on top of this magnificent gorge. Bando eats and goes back to the maps. "Look at this, Sam," he says brightly. He is feeling better with sweet trout in his belly. "There's got to be some granddaddy of a waterfall at the Helderberg Escarpment. A large stream runs right

off the edge of that eight-hundred-foot cliff." I get down on my knees and look. "Wow!" I say. "I'll bet Alice is going there." I study the map. "And there are fields and farms nearby for Crystal. I think we're on Alice's brain wave now." "Let's go," Bando says. "I'd like to see the goshawks." He packs his belongings, and we start the long descent to the bottom of the gorge. About an hour later we are standing in the enormous rock bowl that holds the reservoir. The sun has just gone down. "Where's the farm?" I ask. "Up the road about half a mile on the right." I start off. "Hold on," Bando says. "I really don't like this idea, so I'll let you go alone to ask about Alice." "You're not coming?" "I'll meet you later. Zella asked me to give her a call if I got the chance." He shifts his packbasket. "West Conesville is about half a mile from here. Since it'll soon be dark and we can't go on, this looks like a good time to telephone her."

"All right," I say reluctantly. "Where shall we meet?" "I saw a rural cemetery on the map about a mile beyond the farm. Make camp and I'll meet you there." "When?" "I'm not sure. Don't wait up for me." As I approach the farm, I slow down to study the situation I'm walking into. The land is well tended, the buildings strong and freshly painted. This is reassuring, because these things speak of a hardworking farmer, and hardworking farmers are usually sincere people. The ones I know have no time for pretense. They answer yes or no. I trust this farmer will do likewise when I ask if he's seen Alice. The farmhouse is very old. It has two small low windows on the second floor, and the clapboard is slightly wider than the boards on houses today. I glance at the corncrib as I pass it and hope that Alice did not help herself to a meal for Crystal. I scold myself for thinking this. I tuck my shirt in my jeans and, combing my hair with a teasel-weed head I found near the corncrib,