The Mystery of Monster Mountain

“Nothing,” said Pete. “Nothing happens. That’s why the scent glands are removed — so that nothing can happen.”
“Typical human reasoning,” said Smathers. “You take an animal that has been provided by nature with a perfect defense system and remove that system. The animal becomes helpless — completely dependent on the human since it can’t defend itself. Then the human proudly says that he owns the animal, as if one creature could own another. Perfectly dreadful!”
The boys were silent, a bit startled by the violence of Mr. Smathers’ tone.
“Now,” said Smathers, after a moment, “if people would only use their brains and take the time to understand their fellow creatures, there wouldn’t be any need for that sort of savagery. We could all go into the wilderness, provided we minded our manners, and we could visit with our wild friends there. We would have the decency to permit them their freedom.”
Mr. Smathers took a paper sack out of his pocket and poured a few peanuts out of it into the palm of his hand. “Be still and I’ll show you,” he told the boys.
He pursed his lips and let out a chirruping sound.
A blue jay wheeled overhead, circled the campground once, and lighted at Smathers’ feet. The bird ignored the boys and screeched once at Smathers.
“Not so fast,” said Smathers. “Wait for the others.”
The jay scolded him.
“It won’t be long,” Smathers told the bird. “Have a little patience, if you please.”
A ground squirrel appeared and scampered to Smathers. The jay shrieked impatiently at the squirrel, and the squirrel chattered back in an irritated way.
“Don’t quarrel,” said Smathers. “There’s plenty for everyone.”
The squirrel stopped chattering and began to rub its face with its forepaws in an embarrassed fashion.
Two chipmunks darted across the clearing, almost scampering over Pete’s toes.
“Ah, there you are at last!” said Smathers. “All right. We can begin.”
The squirrel waited while Smathers held out the nuts to the jay. The jay snapped up two nuts, then hopped a foot or two away while Smathers fed the squirrel. Then the chipmunks took their turn.
“You see,” said Smathers to the boys, “they will give way to one another if only you explain things to them properly. No shoving. No snatching.”
The boys didn’t speak, but Jupe nodded.
When the chipmunks had munched the last of the nuts, Smathers dismissed the animals much as a schoolmaster might dismiss a class. The jay flew to the top of a big pine, lighted there for a second, and squawked loudly. Then it flew away. The squirrel ran to hide under a heap of stones on the bank of the creek, and the chipmunks scampered off into the trees.
“I’m spoiling them, of course,” said Smathers. “But then, every creature can use a little spoiling once in a while.”
“Yes, you are spoiling them,” said Jupe. “In the national parks the rangers always warn visitors not to feed the animals. They forget how to find their own food if too many people give them nuts and popcorn and things like that.”
“That’s why I hate to go to the national parks.” snapped Mr. Smathers. “Stupid people line up everywhere with their hands full of civilized trash that they shove at the wild things, and the animals gorge themselves. Then, when winter comes, the people go home and don’t worry for a second about the harm they’ve done, and a lot of the animals starve. That’s murder, just as surely as shooting a deer with a rifle is murder. I only bring a few nuts to my friends, and I’ve warned the squirrel and those chipmunks about taking food from strangers. They understand what can happen. They know that I’m only giving them a little treat. It’s much the same as buying an ice cream cone for a favorite nephew.”
“I see,” said Bob. “You’ve explained to the animals that they’ve got to watch out for people. And you figure they understand?”
“I know that they understand,” declared Smathers. “They’ve told me. Oh, I’m not sure about that jay. He’s a greedy one. He may not understand much of anything except filling his craw. Still, he’s beautiful to look at, don’t you think?”
“Very,” said Jupiter Jones.
 “Fortunately for him, he’s not a member of a rare species,” said Smathers, “or there’d be madmen out here hunting him so they could put him in a zoo. Now there’s cruelty for you — a zoo!”
Mr. Smathers’ face took on a reddish tinge, and his lips clamped together angrily.
“I read somewhere that animals live longer in zoos,” said Pete softly.
“Live longer? Well, maybe they do, if you can call it living. They’re either caged or stranded in the bottom of a pit. If they’re big, the keepers are afraid of them so they get stunned with tranquilizers if they need any attention. You call that living?”
“I guess I wouldn’t like it,” admitted Pete.
“You know you wouldn’t like it.” Mr. Smathers’ watery eyes narrowed. “Tranquilizers!” he said. “I know why that lout at the inn has a tranquilizer gun, but he won’t use it, not as long as I’ve got breath in my body!”
“Why does Mr. Havemeyer have a tranquilizer gun?” asked Jupiter Jones,
“Eh?” Smathers glared at Jupe as if Jupe were an enemy. “I won’t tell you,” he said.
“If I told you, you might believe me and that would be a tragedy.”
He stamped away, out of the campground and up the road toward the inn.
“Now what did he mean by that?” said Bob. “If we believed him, it would be a tragedy. Why?”
“Havemeyer must want to capture something,” said Jupe slowly. “The only reason for a tranquilizer gun is to shoot an animal without killing it. Does he want to capture a bear? I think not. We’d find that easy enough to believe. No, Smathers is talking about an animal we might not believe in. Now what sort of creature is that?”
He stopped, as if reluctant to voice his thoughts, and looked at the others with wonder.
 
8
Joe Havemeyer’s Vision
The Three Investigators had almost reached the inn when a truck came slowly up the village road, gears grinding as the driver shifted down to make the grade.
“That must be the cement for the swimming pool,” said Pete.
The truck turned into the driveway of the inn and made its way past the parking lot and into the back yard. The truck driver got out of the cab. He and Joe Havemeyer began to unload sacks of cement and sand, piling them on wooden skids near the excavation for the pool. Hans and Konrad were not in sight.
“That’s a lot of cement,” Bob observed.
“It’s a big swimming pool,” said Pete. “Big and deep. I wonder if Cousin Anna knew the cement was coming today. She said she wanted to pay for it when it was delivered, and we haven’t found her safe deposit key.”
“If her reputation is so good, I am sure she’ll be able to sign for the cement” Jupiter pointed out. “Or her husband might pay for it. He’s the one who is so enthusiastic about the pool.”
The boys went up the front steps and into the inn. The big living room was empty, but from upstairs came the voices of Hans and Konrad.
“Anna!” It was Joe Havemeyer, shouting from the back yard. “Anna, can you come out here for a second?”
Anna’s firm step sounded in the kitchen. The back door opened and then closed. Jupiter, Pete, and Bob drifted through the living room and into the kitchen, where the window above the sink was open. They looked through the window and saw Anna, approach Havemeyer and the truck driver. She was wearing an apron, and she wiped her hands on a dish towel as she walked.
“Is it everything you need?” she asked her husband.
Havemeyer nodded. “I’m all set for now,” he said.
“Good.” Anna took a paper from the truck driver and examined it. “It is right?” she asked Havemeyer.
 “I checked it,” he told her. “The bill’s correct.”