And Condors Danced by Zilpha Keatley Snyder Read Free Book Online

they did look something alike, tall and pale with gray eyes and stiff heavy hair the color of summer grass. But in nearly every other way Charles and Father couldn’t have been more different. For instance, when it came to getting permission to do almost anything, Father was probably the worst person in the world to have to ask, and Charles was pretty nearly the best. Carly tiptoed across the room and whispered in Charles’s ear.
    “Where’s Father?”
    “Apricot orchard,” Charles said without taking his eyes off the paper.
    “Where’s Nellie?”
    “Sh-sh-shopping.” Perhaps because of his stammer, Charles never said more than was absolutely necessary.
    “And Lila?“
    Charles nodded. “W-w-went too.”
    Carly grinned. “May I go donkey riding with Matt?” she asked.
    Charles had gone back to his paper. Carly poked him and whispered her request a little bit louder.
    “Hmm. B-b-better ask Mama.”
    “But she’s asleep. I don’t think we should wake her. Do you?”
    Charles raised his head enough to peer over the top of his newspaper. He stared at Mama for several seconds and then for several more seconds he nodded his head. “G-g-guess not,” he said at last, and went back to his paper.
    Carly decided that was as close to a yes as was necessary, and tiptoed discreetly out of the room. A quick trip to the attic and then a detour into the pantry and she had collected everything she needed and stashed it all in a deep pouch formed by the bunched-up skirt of her pinafore. Then she flew out the back door for the second time within ten minutes.
    No one was in the backyard, but a lot of excited barking was coming from behind the toolshed. Matt waited there because, like most people, he was scared of Father, and ordinarily it was a good hiding place. But not if Tiger was around, because he knew donkeys meant that somebody was going somewhere, and of course he wanted to go too. Tiger loved going places. Arthur said it was a good thing dogs didn’t have souls, because Tiger would have traded his in for a good walk any day of the year.
    “All right, Tiger, you can go,” Carly told him, and he immediately began to celebrate by running around and around the donkeys at top speed with his tail tucked between his legs. Tiger always ran in circles when he was excited, going so fast that his whole body sloped in toward the center of the circle, like a flying bird tilting into a turn. Rosemary watched him nervously as he circled past, her head flipping from side to side, but Barney only blinked sleepily every time the four-legged comet orbited past his nose. Dodging to avoid being run down, Carly yelled, “Stop it! Stop that this minute, you crazy dog.” Tiger went on running.
    Safely inside Tiger’s racetrack, she fished around in her pinafore pouch and brought out two bags. “Cookies,” she said, dropping them into the saddlebags that hung across Barney’s shaggy back. “And oranges.”
    Matt peered into the still bulging pouch formed by Carly’s pinafore. “What else you got in there?” he asked.
    “Costumes,” Carly said. “This one’s for you.” She pulled out a black felt hat and handed it to Matt. It had been a ladies’ hat once, but with its veil and flowers removed it looked quite a bit like a gentleman’s derby. As Matt examined it doubtfully, she produced a boy’s school-cap that she had reupholstered with a plaid material. “And this one is a deerstalker’s cap, like Sherlock wears. I’ve got other stuff too—trousers and coats and vests—but the donkeys would get it all dirty. So we’ll just wear the hats today. Okay?”
    Matt argued, protesting that he didn’t want to wear no ladies’ hat, but after Carly assured him that it looked just like the one Dr. Watson was wearing in the illustration in “The Adventure of the Speckled Band,” he finally gave in.
    “Well, all right, but I’m giving you fair warning—if we meet anybody, I’m going to sit on it,” he muttered as he tried