Secret of the Mask by Gertrude Chandler Warner Read Free Book Online Page B

kachina mask. This spirit prays for rain and food for the Hopi people,” he said. “The Hopi have not arrived yet—if you will leave the mask, we will show it to them.”

    “No!” yelled Benny, grabbing the mask and clutching it to him. “I found it! It’s mine!”
    The man’s voice was gentle. “That is true. You did find it. And you could take it home. But this mask is very old. It may have been stolen from the Hopi tribe.” Benny clutched it tighter. The man looked at him with kind eyes. “It is a great honor—a great, great honor—to return a stolen thing to its true home.”
    Benny hugged his mask. He knew how sad he felt when the mask had been stolen from their garage. He also knew how happy he felt today when they found the missing Crispy Crackers can. He looked at the chiefs who sat quietly, watching him and waiting. No one yelled at him or grabbed the mask or told him what to do. They were waiting for him to decide. It made Benny feel very grown-up.
    “All right,” he said, handing the mask to the man next to him.
    “We would like to invite you to come back to the powwow on Saturday. By then we will know about the mask,” the man said to the children.
    On their way out of the park, the Aldens saw a group of people gathered around a table labeled “Fry bread.”
    “That’s what Katrina ate in the Prairie Girls book,” said Violet. “We should try it.”
    The children joined the line, watching a woman pull a small piece of dough off a big piece. She quickly rolled it into a ball, rolled it in flour, then patted it flat. Then she poked a hole in the middle. “The hole lets the oil get into the middle so the fry bread cooks evenly,” explained Violet.
    “Everyone stand back,” said the woman. All the children took a giant step back as she dropped the dough into a large pan. Hot oil spattered like a Fourth-of-July sparkler. As the dough bubbled merrily in the hot oil, she added many more breads to the pan.
    When they were done she scooped them onto paper towels to drain. Some people ordered their fry bread plain, and some asked for regular sugar.
    “I’m having powdered sugar,” said Benny. When it was their turn, Henry, Jessie, and Violet all ordered the powdered sugar, too. The children sat under a large maple tree to enjoy their treats.
    Officer Morgan found them there. “Thanks for leaving your mask, Benny,” he said as he walked towards them.
    “You’re welcome,” said Benny, who by now had a powdered-sugar moustache.
    “We need to talk to Grandma Belle,” Henry said. “If the people here think that this mask may belong to the Hopi tribe, then maybe there are other things that Grandma Belle has that need to be returned to these people.”
    “Do you think that Grandma Belle’s father stole the masks from the Hopi tribe?” Benny asked.
    “I don’t know,” said Henry. “But that’s what we need to find out.”
    As the children pedaled through town, they passed the drugstore. Down the block, Henry spotted the orange pickup truck they had seen in their alley parked in front of the diner.
    “Something’s wrong with that truck,” said Henry.
    “It’s orange,” said Violet, who much preferred softer colors.
    Jessie wrinkled her nose. “It’s all bumped and dented and has more rust than a sunken ship.”
    “No,” said Henry, studying the truck. “I know what’s wrong. Those are the same bikes and swing set in the back as before. Mr. Robbins would have sold them all by now, and collected all sorts of new things.”
    “You mean he’s not a junker like Mr. Robbins?” asked Violet. “He’s just pretending to be a junker?”
    Henry nodded. “That way, people aren’t suspicious when they see him driving up and down the alleys.”
    “Alleys like ours,” said Benny, his face growing red with excitement. “He could have stolen my mask from our garage!”
    “And maybe,” said Jessie, “he stole things, like the candleholder, from Grandma Belle’s garage. Maybe