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“That’s the reason I didn’t want to go with you girls down to the goat ranch yesterday. I knew I wouldn’t be able to move today if I did. I’m going to take my climbing in smaller doses, so it won’t be so painful.”

Just then they heard a groan from the other end of the room, and both girls raised up on their elbows to look over at Florence.

“Are you sore too?” Jo Ann called out loud when she saw that Mrs. Blackwell was also awake now.

“I’ll say I am! It’s agony to move. We’ll have to climb some more today to get limbered up.”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do just as soon as breakfast’s over. You remember we planned to take some food to those children down at the cave. I want to show you and Peggy my blue-eyed boy, too.”

Peggy laughed. “I surely hope you get to satisfy your curiosity about him—we won’t have a minute’s peace till you do.”

“Well, if we’re going down there this morning, we’d better roll out.” Florence screwed up her face and began slowly crawling out of bed.

Peggy smiled at the ridiculous contortions Jo Ann and Florence went through as they got up and began dressing.

Finally Jo Ann picked up a shoe and pitched it across at her. “You will laugh at me, will you?” she said good-naturedly. “Roll out yourself, or I’ll pour some cold water in your face.”

Jo Ann finished dressing first, and as she went out the door she called back, “I’ll make the fire while you girls finish dressing; then it won’t take us long to get breakfast.”

A few minutes later she was joined by Peggy and Florence, and all three girls set to work getting the breakfast started.

“I’ll set the table,” offered Peggy.

“And I’ll get the things from our refrigerator at the spring,” added Jo Ann, and started off stiff-legged down the path. “The walk’ll help to limber me up.”

“Jo ought to have a prize for her graceful walk,” smiled Peggy as she started into the house to set the table, while Florence went for some wood to replenish the fire.

A few minutes later Jo Ann came running back empty-handed, her sore muscles forgotten. “Our food’s gone—everything’s gone!” she called excitedly to Florence.

The wood dropped from Florence’s hands and sent up a shower of sparks as it fell into the fire. “Gone!” she gasped. “Are you sure you looked in the right place?”

“Sure. The box’s turned over, and there’s nothing under it.”

By this time Peggy, hearing the excitement, rushed out of the house, and all three girls raced back to the spring, then stood staring at the overturned box.

“What do you think happened?” asked Jo Ann. “Do you suppose someone stole the things and left the box there so it’d look as if a dog had done it?”

“I hardly think so,” replied Florence thoughtfully. “There’s no one up here who’d——” She stopped abruptly.

“Could it have been those people down at the cave who——” began Jo Ann; then the next moment she answered her own question: “No, I know they didn’t do it. They’re poor, but I don’t believe they’d steal.”

Peggy looked over at Jo Ann. “How do you know? You can’t prove it.”

Dropping to her knees beside the spring Jo Ann began examining the moss-covered stones. “The moss is scraped off this rock where something heavy stepped on it, but then we could’ve done that last night when we put the things in here.”

Florence turned and started back toward the house. “It won’t do any good to stand here talking about it. Come on, we’ll find something else to cook in place of the bacon for breakfast. It’s a good thing we brought some canned milk along for an emergency, but we’ll have to do without butter for several days, till I can get some sent out from the city.”

Jo Ann ran to catch up with Peggy and Florence. “Why can’t you get some butter from the people down at the goat ranch?” she asked.

Florence laughed. “Why, they probably wouldn’t even know what I was talking about.”

“Don’t they use butter?”

“No, the peons never use it.”

“Well, then, let’s get extra milk and make it ourselves.”

“How? We haven’t a churn.”

“I’ve seen my mother make butter by stirring the cream in a bowl or jar,” Jo Ann explained.

Just then they reached the house, and all three ran on inside and began telling Mrs. Blackwell of their loss.

“Mrs. Blackwell, what is your opinion about the mysterious visitor—was he man or beast?” asked Jo Ann finally.

“I couldn’t say, of course, but it seems to me an animal would hardly carry off the glass jars of milk and butter.”

Jo Ann stared at Mrs. Blackwell a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, then turned and went on outside.

Peggy glanced over at Florence. “Everything seems to point to those people as the guilty parties, doesn’t it? Jo hates to admit it, though.”

“Oh well, it wasn’t much, and anyway, we can’t prove that they are the guilty ones. Let’s forget about it and see what we can find for breakfast.” She got up and went out in the kitchen with Jo Ann.

A few minutes later Peggy joined them, and before long they had the emergency breakfast ready: coffee, dry cereal with canned milk, batter cakes with brown sugar syrup, and oranges.

“This isn’t half bad, if you ask me,” bragged Peggy as they sat down to the table.

Jo Ann grinned. “Just see who fixed it! Why, we’re the best cooks for miles around.”

“That isn’t saying much, is it?” smiled Florence, then all four laughed merrily as they caught Florence’s hidden meaning.

As soon as the breakfast things were cleared away and the house straightened up, Jo Ann asked, “Florence, do you and Peg still want to go down to the cave with me?”

“Why, of course. Come on, let’s see what we can find to carry to those children.”

The three girls hastened to the kitchen, and Florence began searching through the provision box for something to take to the children at the cave.

“Here’re some frijoles—that’s their principal food, and I know they’ll like them. We’ll put in some rice, and with these onions and garlic and this can of tomatoes they can make sopa de aroz—a kind of stew.” As Florence handed the things to Jo Ann and Peggy, they packed them in a split-cane basket.

She looked about the kitchen a moment, then reached over on the table and picked up a bag of oranges and handed it to Jo Ann. “Here’re some oranges. They ought to have some fruit, too. There’re only half a dozen in there, but that’ll be enough for each of the children to have one apiece. Let’s take these batter cakes we had left from breakfast. They’ll love them. They’ll think they’re some kind of a cake. We’ll put in this cone of brown sugar and tell the woman how to make syrup—but they’ll very likely eat the sugar as it is, thinking it’s candy.”

“I wonder if I couldn’t get milk from the goat ranch for them,” put in Jo Ann. “I’m going to see about it the next time we go down there.”

When they had finished, Jo Ann picked up the basket and followed Florence and Peggy out on the front porch, where Mrs. Blackwell was lying in a hammock stretched between two of the crude peeled posts supporting the thatched roof.

Florence leaned over to drop a kiss on her mother’s pale cheek. “Do you mind if we leave you alone for