“He didn’t. She’s still pretty wild. I’m the only person she’ll let near her. That’s because she thinks I saved her life. She thinks I’m you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because of our voices. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but our voices are really alike. To Blondie we must sound exactly the same. She thought she recognized my voice the first time she heard it. To her it was the voice that had guided her to safety when she was blind. She’s come to associate that voice with the way I look now. That’s why she’s so puzzled by you.”
Brit smiled at the burro. “Come here, Blondie,” he said. “Good little Blondie, come here.”
Blondie’s ears were still quivering. She tentatively approached Brit and didn’t flinch when he patted her neck. Then, as Brit went on talking to her, she rubbed her nose against his chest.
A moment later Pete and Bob climbed up onto the ledge.
Jupe introduced them. “Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews, this is Brit. ”
“Douglas,” Brit finished. “Hi. Glad to know you.”
Pete and Bob smiled. They now understood those crazy calls. They had mistaken Brit’s voice for Jupe’s.
“I guess you could all use a drink of water,” Brit said. “Come on. I’ll take you to my hideout.”
Holding Blondie’s bridle, he led the way along the ledge and then up a twisting path. At the top they came to a half-hidden opening in the face of the mountain.
“Keep your heads down,” Brit warned as they followed him into a narrow tunnel. “Okay. You can straighten up now.”
Only a little light filtered in through the tunnel, but the Three Investigators could see they were in a large cave with a high ceiling.
Brit struck a match and lit a candle. Jupe guessed Brit had been living here for some time. A sleeping bag was rolled up on the floor. Pots and pans, a kerosene cookstove, some half-filled sacks, and several picks and shovels were stacked around the walls. From the look of the smooth ceiling, he could also tell no gunpowder had ever exploded in here. This couldn’t be Pancho Villa’s cave.
Brit picked up a sack and emptied a heap of oats onto the floor. “Good thing Dad got these for his horses,” he said. “There isn’t much to graze on around here. Even for a hungry burro.”
Bob was looking at the single sleeping bag.
“Where is your father?” he asked.
“Why? Why do you want to know?” Brit’s eyes were suddenly wary again.
“Because we should warn him about Dusty too,” Bob said.
Brit picked up a clay jug and poured some water into a pan for Blondie.
“No. Dad took the horses down to the valley to get supplies.” He handed the jug to Pete and all three Investigators took a quick refreshing drink from it.
“He’s gone down toward the lake?” Jupe asked. “I hope he doesn’t run into Dusty.”
“No. He didn’t go that way. There’s a village on the other side of the mountain. It only has a couple of stores and Dad won’t be able to find what we need there. The village doesn’t even have a vet. But the bus stops there, the bus to. ”
Brit stopped and looked at the guys as though trying to make up his mind if he could trust them or not.
“Why did you come up into the mountains?” Brit asked.
“It was Dusty’s idea. ”
The time had come to tell Brit the whole story. Jupe explained about the crossword contest with answers that had to be tape-recorded. How he and his friends had finally realized what it was all about — Pancho Villa’s silver pesos.
Brit had listened in silence until then, sitting with the Three Investigators, on the ground.
Now he suddenly stood up.
“Dusty told you about the silver?” he asked furiously. “What did he do? Promise you a share if you found it?”
“No,” Pete assured him. “Dusty never let on about that. His story was that we were going up into the mountains to file down Blondie’s hooves.”
“What!”
Pete went on, “Mercedes was the one who told us about Pancho Villa.”
“Mercedes?” Brit frowned in a puzzled way. “Who’s Mercedes?”
Bob described her. Her long black pigtails. Her dark eyes.
“She’s Mexican?” Brit was still frowning.
“Seems to be,” Jupe said. “I’ve never heard her speak anything but Spanish. And her skin’s brown.”
He was getting a little puzzled himself now.
“Mercedes told us to warn you about Dusty. She said she was a close friend of yours. You know her, right?” Pete asked.
Brit shook his head.
“I’ve never heard her name,” he said. “And as far as I know, I’ve never seen her in my life.”
“These hills are full of caves,” Brit said. “Pancho Villa and his men probably used most of them as hideouts. But Dad’s sure we’ve found the one where he hid those silver pesos.”
The four guys were sitting on their rolled sleeping bags in Brit’s cave that evening. He had cooked up a big pot of their favorite — beans and rice — on the kerosene stove. Three candles were burning now and Brit had hung a blanket over the entrance to the tunnel so no light would show outside. Blondie was contentedly nibbling at her oats in a corner.
“How do you know you’ve found the right cave?” Pete asked. “If this place is so full of them.”
“Well, for one thing,” Brit explained, “the entrance was all blocked up with fallen rocks. And when we managed to shift some of them, we found Ignacio.”
“Ignacio?”
“One of Villa’s soldiers,” Brit explained. “Of course, he wasn’t in very good shape after being buried under tons of rocks since 1916. Just a skeleton with pieces of uniform sticking to him. And his skull — ”
“Do you mind?” Pete interrupted him. “I’m trying to eat.”
Bob smiled. “Dead bodies put Pete off his feed.”