Читать книгу Daughter of the Coast Guard - Betty Baxter Anderson - Страница 6

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Cherry led the way boldly into the county attorney’s office in the court house, and asked the girl at the desk where she could find Sheriff Doty. “I expect you’ll find him down in one of the basement rooms, playing pinochle,” the secretary told the two girls.

“Thank you,” Cherry answered, and murmured to Win as she went out the door, “I hope he’s not absorbed in a too-exciting game. Although Dad supported him in the last election, I’m afraid his gratitude wouldn’t carry over to the Hudson daughter, if I were to come between him and a winning hand.”

“I don’t know what all this will lead to,” Win replied, in a mock-martyr tone, “but you can’t say I’m not sticking to you until the bitter end.”

Fortunately, the pinochle game was just breaking up. Cherry approached the lanky official with her most engaging smile. “We’ve an enormous favor to ask of you, Sheriff Doty.”

The officer grinned. “Well, now if t’aint too big, mebbe it can be arranged.”

Cherry waited until they’d moved down the hall far enough from the other players not to be overheard. “Sheriff, Win and I would like to see those furs that were in that wrecked truck. Bill tells me no one has been able to identify them.”

The sheriff looked a little bewildered. “Oh, I think I see! You b’lieve mebbe a girl’d know more about furs?”

“That might be it. And it would be fun to outsmart my big brother, wouldn’t it?”

The officer chuckled and said, “O. K. Then you two come along with me over to the jail. We’ve got ’em stored downstairs.”

Win and Cherry had to race to keep up with the rapid pace set by the long-legged official. The stone jail and sheriff’s quarters were two blocks from the court house, and the trio arrived a few moments later.

The cargo of furs had been dumped in an unused basement cell.

The pelts seemed to be divided, roughly, into two sorts. One, a blonde, soft fur, had hair about two inches long; the other, in shades of buff, brown or black, was shorter and coarser.

The girls examined them intently for a few minutes.

“I’m stumped,” Win said, at last. “Not like anything I ever saw before. But wouldn’t you love to have a coat made from that luscious, soft, creamy fur?”

Cherry wouldn’t give up for a few minutes, then she had to admit, too, that the pelts were unlike any she’d ever seen. “Absolutely unmarked, too,” she declared.

As they turned to leave, the sheriff said, “Too bad it didn’t work out, Miss Hudson. I s’pose you’d rather I didn’t say anything about this to your brother?”

Cherry blushed, and laughed a little.

Win broke in, a little shyly. “I’ve an idea, Sheriff Doty. Mr. Wilson, over at Wayne’s Department store, is considered quite an expert on furs. Why don’t we ask him?”

“By gosh, you girls have got my curiosity all upset, now,” the officer said. “I guess it’ll be all right to take a couple of these hides over for him to see. Got time, before closing?”

Cherry glanced at the small watch at her wrist. “We’ve fifteen minutes. Think we can make it?”

“Sure.” The officer seized one of the blonde pelts and a couple of the darker ones, and locked the door on the remainder. “Come along.”

Mr. Wilson, a nervous, alert young salesman at Lake Haven’s largest department store, looked a little startled at the request. “These two,” he said, after a brief examination, “are llama skins. South American, probably.”

The softer fur held his attention for a much longer time. Cherry, absorbed in his examination, failed to notice the almost wild look of relief and joy which came over Winifred’s face at the furrier’s announcement. “This,” Mr. Wilson admitted at last, “is going to take quite a bit of study.”

A bell rang, and the lights flickered. It was closing time for the store.

“Would you care to leave it with me for a careful examination?” the young man asked, eagerly. “I’m very interested——”

“Guess it’s all right,” the sheriff consented.

“I’ll call you when I decide, shall I?”

The officer nodded. When the trio reached the street, he turned to Cherry. “And I suppose you want me to telephone you as soon as I find out? Not Bill?”

“Indeed I do! Please don’t tell him, now that we’re so close to finding out!”

“I promise,” the lanky officer replied.

The girls thanked him, and then strode up the street to the spot where they’d parked Win’s car.

“I believe we’re going to solve this,” Cherry said, exultingly.

“You can’t be any happier than I am, over what you’ve already discovered,” Win agreed. “You’ll let me know, as soon as you hear from Sheriff Doty?”

“Sounds like a round-robin letter,” Cherry chuckled. “Mr. Wilson calls the sheriff; he calls me; I call you.”

“And I tell Dad!”

Cherry was studying in her room, after dinner, when the expected telephone message came from the officer. “Mr. Wilson says he’s pretty sure it’s vicuña—v-i-c-u-ñ-a—and the reason he didn’t recognize it, is because he’s never actually seen any before.”

“Why—how queer! Is it rare, then?”

“Yep. He can’t understand how it got here. It’s from South America, too, but there’s been an embargo on shipping it out for a good many years. The pelts are still fairly cheap among the Indians, I guess, but they’re pretty darned expensive in this country. Wilson says the stuff would be worth even more if women knew how hard it is to get ’em. But not much of a demand has been set up, because furriers just couldn’t supply the pelts.”

“So both kinds came from South America?”

“That’s what Wilson believes.”

“I do appreciate all you’ve done to help,” Cherry declared.

“Anytime I can help a Hudson—even if it’s to get the best of another Hudson—let me know.” Laughing, the sheriff concluded the conversation.

Cherry impulsively decided to run over to the Coast Guard station with her news. “I’ll not be gone more than half an hour,” she called to Mrs. Morrow. “I want to see Winifred.”

The housekeeper gave her consent, and Cherry set off, walking on the lake side of the Drive. It was a crisp, October night with a bright moon, and Lake Michigan was beautiful and mysterious in the soft light. Cherry never failed to give a little mental note of thanks that her home and life were so near the lovely inland water, whenever she saw the lake in its endless variety of moods.

Cherry’s news was received by Captain Travers and his daughter with unconcealed delight. “Oh, Cherry! You don’t know how glad we are!”

The bright-haired girl was pleased, and a little astonished at the effect her message had. “I’m glad, too,” she said, mystified, “because I’ll be able to tell that super-intelligent brother of mine something he doesn’t know. But why are you so pleased?”

Winifred glanced at her father. “May I tell her, Dad?”

Captain Travers nodded.

“You see, Cherry, as a rule our foreign boats in this port are from Canada, Norway, Sweden, or England.”

“Sure—I’ve known that for years.”

“Well, don’t you understand? If these pelts were smuggled, and landed anywhere near Lake Haven, it isn’t likely that they’d be sent from South America? It’s possible, of course, but not at all probable.”

“Oh, I do see!” Cherry glanced at Captain Travers. “The load must have come from Chicago, or the Coast! And that would throw it completely out of your territory.”

“That’s right,” the ruddy-faced man agreed. “And I think it calls for a celebration. Shall we raid Mandy’s kitchen and see what we can find?”