14 I Am On the Track

Chapter 14 IN WHICH I Am On the Track I run down the street, vault over the bridge railing, and climb down the abutment to the creek. I take off my moccasins and, wading into the cool water, splash upstream toward Alice's camp. I'm a tug-of-war inside. I want to look for Frightful with all my heart, and with all my heart I want to find Alice. But the battle, my head says, is already won. I've got to find Alice. Some things become clear as I run. Frightful was stolen from me. And Bate, who must be that blueand- brown-eyed man, is going to sell her to Skri at Beaver Corners. Hacking is just a code word that means Bate has birds to sell. What isn't clear is Alice's situation. Did the two men find her? Did they harm her? I run faster. With the beginning of twilight darkening the falls, I splash up to Alice's camp.

She should be here, but she's not. Where is she? Feeling prickles of fear running over my skin, I crawl into her stone home and sit down. I am paralyzed. I can't seem to act. I don't know what to do. Should I wait? Or should I get the police? In anguish I roll over and bury my face in her rabbit-fur pillow. It crackles. I snatch it up and find a letter. Crawling out on the ledge, my hands trembling, I lay a small pile of pine needles and twigs, then, taking out my flint and steel, strike a spark and start a fire. As the flame flares up, my heart thumps like a plumping mill. Why is she writing me a letter? That's not part of On the Track. She must be in trouble. I unfold a sheet of paper with the Monroe Poland China Farm crest on it and see it is dated this morning. The letter was here when I arrived before noon, but since I didn't lie down on the pillow I didn't find it. "Hi, Sam," I read. "Isn't this fun?" Fun? Are you crazy? I am worried to death about you, Alice, and you think this is fun. Don't you know that dangerous men are around you? I hold the letter closer to the fire and read on.

"There were falconers here in the woods. I saw them. They left about an hour ago, soon after the nice woodland coyote killed one of their birds. "I have some good news for you. But I can no longer wait for you to get here to tell you. You're too pokey. I'm off to the Helderberg Escarpment." She's gone. She departed after the men left the woods and before they came up the creek. She's all right. Maybe they didn't even see her. I breathe a sigh of relief and read on. "There's a leaf bag of hickory nuts on the ledge above the bed. Help yourself. The coyote has puppies under the rhododendron bush by the old mill. Let's get a coyote puppy; they're adorable. Signed, "Your friend, Alice Van Rensselaer. Ha. Wasn't it fun having everyone bow and scrape because they thought you were a Van Rensselaer? People-clues work when you give them to nice people like Mr. and Mrs. Van Sandtford and Hanni. Hanni's neat. Alice."

I groan and smile at the same time. "You're impossible." Now that I know she's all right I'm angry at her. I haven't got time for her little games with sun compasses, pigs, Van Rensselaers, and coyotes. I've got a sawmill to tend and food to gather for the winter. Alice, will you ever grow up and think of someone besides yourself? But I am on the move. Alice is safe. I should have known when I saw that eight-hundred-foot drop off the Helderberg Escarpment that she was headed for that falls from the moment she left her tree house. Now, to go to Beaver Corners and get my beloved falcon back. I stamp out the fire, bury the charred twigs, and sprinkle the burned spot with dirt. As the full moon comes over the tips of the hemlocks in the east and the sun goes down in the west, I climb down the falls and splash toward the bridge.

A dark mass to my left attracts my attention; something dull in texture is floating on the surface of the darkening stream. I wade to it. "Oh, no," I wail. It's the mother coyote. That's what the men were going to do when they headed up the creek, kill the coyote. They came back to seek revenge. Near the mother floats a puppy, and I can look no more. These men are cruel—and they have Frightful. I splash down the creek, climb to the bridge, and put on my moccasins. I don't even glance at the gristmill, but go straight to the restaurant. The evening diners, a well-dressed group, are chatting and waiting to be served. I walk as casually as I can to the kitchen, where Mr. Milo is checking a dish in the oven. "Mr. Milo," I say, trying to be calm. "Where's the police station?" "There's no police station in Rensselaerville," he says. "Why? What's up?" "Two men are about to sell my falcon to an agent for an Arab sheik. They're at Beaver Corners near

East Berne and should be arrested. It's a felony to hold endangered species, and it must be worse to sell them." "The nearest police are about twenty miles from here in Altamont," Mr. Milo says, his eyes wide. "I'll call Scan Conklin, our conservation officer. He's been staying in town. He can make arrests." Mr. Milo dials his number and gets no answer. "Good," I say. "He and Bando must have gone to Beaver Corners." "Anything I can do?" Mr. Milo asks. "My buyer is going there in the morning to purchase red raspberries from a farm. He can give you a ride." "No, thanks," I say. "It's only about twelve miles and there's a full moon tonight. I'm on my way." "Suit yourself," he says and I hurry off. At the last streetlight on the road out of town, I take out the map with the Helderberg Escarpment on it. Alice is probably already there. I study the contours and names. Most likely she's near the Indian Ladder where Outlet Falls plunges off the cliff. Miss Turner said that once the Indians felled a tree against the escarpment. The stumps of its