Gertrude Warner - The Mystery of the Lost Mine

Illustrated by Charles Tang

Albert Whitman & Company, Chicago

“Turn left,” said Henry Alden. Leaning forward from the passenger seat, he pointed at a graveled road. “RV Haven should be about two miles down this road.”

“Roger,” said Grandfather as he steered the big mobile home off the main highway.

Benny looked up from the map Henry had given him to fold. He sat on the bench seat behind his big brother.

“Roger?” he repeated. “Henry’s name isn’t Roger.”

Grandfather laughed. “That’s navigator talk. Henry has been an excellent one since we left Greenfield.”

“What’s a nav—?” six-year-old Benny began.

“A direction finder,” answered Jessie, who was twelve, from the opposite bench. She was used to her little brother’s questions. She glanced around the kitchenette. “Since we’re almost there, we’d better straighten up.”

“I’ll put my drawing things away,” offered Violet. She packed up her tablet and pens and stowed them in the cubby beneath the kitchen table. Ten-year-old Violet Alden loved to draw.

“Are there any more sandwiches?” asked Benny. He was always hungry.

Jessie wiped crumbs from the counter. “Oh, Benny! I just cleaned the kitchen.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Grandfather told Benny, glancing in the rearview mirror. “And then we can have dinner in the restaurant.”

Violet joined Jessie on the bench behind the driver’s seat. “The campground has a restaurant?” she asked.

Most of the campgrounds across the country had only trailer hookups for power. Violet, Jessie, and Henry had taken turns fixing light meals.

“This place is supposed to have everything,” said Henry, who was fourteen. “A pool, a recreation center, riding stables nearby—”

“RV Haven is like a little town, right in the Arizona desert,” Grandfather added.

“Eight minutes,” called out Benny. “And then we’d better be there!”

Everyone laughed.

Violet gazed out the big picture window at the passing scenery of cactus and rocks. She couldn’t wait to take pictures with the camera Grandfather had given her. For a ten-year-old, she was a pretty good artist and photographer.

At last the RV lumbered under a tall wooden arch with “RV Haven” spelled out in horseshoes.

“We’re here!” exclaimed Jessie. She clung to the back of Benny’s seat.

Grandfather pulled the mobile home in front of a small wooden building marked “Office.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, opening the door. “I have to sign in and find out where we can park the RV.”

“Five minutes!” Benny sang after him. But he didn’t care if Grandfather took an extra minute or two. After more than a week on the road, they had finally reached their destination.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Henry said, echoing Benny’s thought. “It seems like a month since we left Greenfield —”

“And started west in Mr. McCrae’s RV,” Jessie filled in.

Gerald McCrae and Grandfather had been friends forever. When Grandfather offered to help work on Mr. McCrae’s cabin in Arizona, Mr. McCrae asked Mr. Alden to drive his RV out.

“Aren’t you glad Grandfather thought we should come along on this trip?” Henry asked.

“I’m glad he did,” said Violet. “We’ve seen practically the whole country!”

“The RV is neat,” Benny put in. He jumped out of his seat and ran around the kitchenette, then he stopped for a moment. “What does RV stand for anyway?”

“It stands for recreational vehicle,” said Jessie.

The RV was truly a miniature house on wheels. Benches behind the driver’s and passengers’ seats folded down into bunk beds. The dining table stood between the benches. The kitchenette was outfitted with a tiny sink, refrigerator, and stove.

Behind the kitchen was a sitting area with comfortable chairs. At the very back were the bathroom with a shower and a small, separate bedroom.

“It is neat,” Henry agreed. “Like a brand-new boxcar.”

The Alden children used to live alone in a boxcar after their parents had died. But then their grandfather found them and gave them a wonderful home in Greenfield.

“Well, our old boxcar is in Grandfather’s back yard,” Jessie reminded them. “The new boxcar is only ours until Grandfather helps Mr. McCrae finish building his cabin.”

“And I hope that’ll be a long, long time!” Benny declared.

At that moment, Grandfather returned with a packet of papers he placed on the dashboard.

“Block D, Number Two,” he announced, starting the engine. “That’s our parking spot. Should be just ahead.”

Recreational vehicles, Jessie noticed, came in all shapes and sizes. Theirs was one of the biggest on the road.

“Here’s Two-D,” Henry said, as Grandfather maneuvered the mobile home onto the paved pad. “I’ll help hook up.”

“Me, too!” Benny leaped out after them. At every campground stop, he proudly helped connect the RV to water, sewer, and electricity lines. Jessie and Violet stayed in the RV.

Each RV site held four vehicles. Block D contained three trailers. The Alden RV filled the last slot.

The other three units were occupied by a shiny, oblong trailer; a fair-size RV with stickers all over the rear bumper; and an RV that was even bigger and sleeker than the Aldens’.

“Wow!” Jessie exclaimed softly as she and Violet looked out their RV’s window. “I wonder who lives in that one.”

Just then, the RV’s door burst open and Benny thundered up the steps.

“Come on!” he called. “Time to eat!”

Grandfather smiled. “That boy will never be late to a meal,” he told the girls as he locked the door behind them.

Henry waited for them at the entrance to the restaurant. “The Chuck Wagon,” he said, indicating the branded sign. “Neat name, huh? There’s also a store in the back.”

A cowbell clanged cheerfully as they entered.

“Let’s sit there,” Benny said, pointing to a red leather booth.

“Order anything you like,” Grandfather told them. “I’m going back to the office to call Gerald McCrae and let him know we’re here and ready to get to work on his cabin.”

When he left, a dark-haired woman with hard eyes came over with menus.

“Are you the campers in Two-D?” the woman asked without even saying hello first.

“Yes,” Jessie replied. “We’re the Aldens. I’m Jessie.”

“Janine Crawford,” the waitress replied shortly. “I run the restaurant and the store in back.”

The woman shifted her weight impatiently. “If you all know what you want—”

Since they were all hungry, they ordered quickly: grilled cheese and fries for Violet, hamburgers for Henry, Benny, and Grandfather, and a taco salad for Jessie.

As Janine barked the order to the cook in the back, a thin, blond man came in. Henry admired his cowboy boots and engraved silver belt buckle.

The young man tipped his gray cowboy hat and walked over to their table. “Howdy, pardners. I’m Tom Parker.”

“I’m Henry Alden and this is my brother, Benny, and my sisters, Jessie and Violet.”

“You’re the folks in Two-D,” Tom guessed. “Your first time to Arizona?”

The children nodded.

“It’s so pretty,” Violet said. “In a different sort of way.”

“The territory is pretty rugged all right.” Tom brought over a water pitcher and four glasses.

“Do you work here?” Benny wanted to know. He was thinking about becoming a cowboy.