Gloria Skurzynski - Mysteries in Our National Parks - The Hunted - A Mystery in Glacier National Park

A MYSTERY IN GLACIER NATIONAL PARK

To Carrie Hunt—

who taught us to believe in the magic of her dreams—

and to her canine partners

Rio, Tuffy, Oso, Eilu, Blaze, Carmen, Yoki, Jewel,

Fancy, Usko, and especially Cassie.

Each day they demonstrate courage, faithfulness, and above all, love.

Text copyright © 2000 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2007 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

Maps by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps;

Thomas L. Gray, Martin S. Walz, Map Research and Production

Bear paw art by Stuart Armstrong

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skurzynski, Gloria

The hunted / Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson. p. cm.—(National parks mystery: #5)

Summary: The Landon family travels to Glacier National Park to investigate why grizzly bear cubs are disappearing and becomes involved with a ten-year-old Mexican runaway boy.

ISBN: 978-1-4263-0968-7

1. Glacier National Park (Mont.)—Juvenile fiction. [1. Glacier National Park (Mont.)—Fiction. 2. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 3. Grizzly bear—Fiction. 4. Bears—Fiction. 5. Runaways—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

PZ7.S6282Hu 2000 99-048124

[Fic]—dc21

Version: 2017-07-06

The authors are most grateful to the following

staff personnel at Glacier National Park who

so generously shared their expertise:

USGS researcher Kate Kendall;

wildlife biologist Steve Gniadek;

ranger Alison Disque;

chief interpretive ranger Larry Frederick;

ranger Reggie Altop; and

Carrie Hunt of the Wind River Bear Institute.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Heavy metal blared through the cab of the van, so loud it rattled the coffee cup sitting on the dashboard. “Hey, Max, shut off that radio,” the driver shouted.

“Why?”

“Just do it. We ought to be getting sounds from back there about now, but I can’t hear anything over all that music.”

“Yeah, well….” Max looked uncomfortable. “Maybe they shoulda been awake even before this. See, Terry, I…uh…kinda took it easy on the drug.”

“You what?” With a squeal of tires, the van screeched to a halt along the edge of the highway.

“I didn’t want to overdose them. You know, ’cause they’re pretty young,” Max apologized.

“You idiot!” Terry raged, tearing off his dark glasses to shoot murderous glances at Max. “Go back there and check how they’re doing.”

Quickly, Max kicked open the passenger door and ran to the back of the delivery van. Unlocking the double doors, he swung them wide. Then he yelled. “Holy—! You won’t believe this, Terry. You better get back here.”

Was it happening? Was that what he felt—the first stirring of the earth beneath his hands and feet? Crouched under the hide of a dead buffalo calf, he commanded his tense body to remain still. No movement. Not until the right moment.

Now he was sure he felt it. He began to hear it, too. First a murmur, a muted pounding of thousands of hoofs. Then, like the swelling of ceremonial drums, a growing rumble. Did he dare turn his head to see how close the buffalo were? Better not: One movement too soon might send his own scent, the smell of 12-year-old boy, toward the big bull leading the stampeding herd to the cliff.

Now? The roar of hoofs, the lowing and snorting of the huge animals, the cries of frightened calves—all of it stabbed his hearing and took away his breath.

Now! First scrambling on all fours, then sprinting in a crouch, he bellowed like a lost calf, praying that the lead cow would think he was a calf and turn toward him. Straight for the edge of the cliff he ran, terrified but at the same time exhilarated.

To the shortsighted buffalo dashing at full speed behind him, the ground ahead would appear to rise gently, like a low hill. By the time the buffalo herd finally saw the cliff, saw that the surface dropped off into nothingness, it would be too late. The lead bull and the lead cow would plunge over the edge, with most of the herd following, each animal plummeting through emptiness until they all lay smashed on the rocks beneath.

Just ahead of the panic-stricken animals, the boy himself would leap over the cliff. But he would be safe. If he had great skill, and if the Buffalo Spirit guided him, he would land on a ledge beneath the rim of the cliff.

How many times had he practiced his dash to the precipice? He knew where the ledge was, the jutting tongue of rock that would save him. Yet what if he stumbled, or rolled away from the right spot? He would die, too, broken on the bloody ground far below, next to the dead buffalo.

They were only inches behind him now. The ground’s violent shaking nearly knocked him off his feet. It was the moment—he leaped! Flew over the edge! Landed hard. Clawed with fingers and moccasins to secure his hold on the jagged jut of rock. The hide of the dead calf flew away from him, revealing his own tangle of black hair….

“Hey, who left the door of the camper open?”

“What?” His daydream shattered, Jack Landon pulled himself back to the present. His fantasy of being a buffalo runner faded quickly, like a switched-off TV program.

“Jack, are you listening to me? Close the trailer door and make sure it latches. We don’t want it flying open while we’re driving.”

“OK, Dad.”

The Landons had just spent an hour at the visitor center of Ulm Pishkun State Park, in Montana, learning about the Great Buffalo Jump. A thousand years earlier, buffalo had been stampeded by Native American hunters. Then, after a chase of a mile or more, they were lured to their death by a brave buffalo runner who led them over the same cliff the Landons could see clearly from the visitor center.

Jack had listened to stories about boys no older than he was, boys who disguised themselves under buffalo hides and brought the herd to its destruction. Would he have been brave enough to try that? To plunge off a cliff and risk his life clinging to a ledge while those big buffalo hurtled over his head?