in his pockets. Duke did the same with his, but he was itching to throw just one. Maybe if the trumpeters went into the rushes, he would fling a stone and make it skip in the water.
At that moment Linda and Candy cried out in horror.
“Something is up!” Duke said to Allen.
The boys rushed over to where the girls were staring at two white feathers stained with blood.
“We found them in this willow thicket,” explained Linda tearfully. “A poacher must have shot the trumpeters.”
Duke looked at the bloodstained feathers and blinked hard to be sure he was seeing correctly. All along he had felt that a poacher had killed the birds, but at the same time he had hoped he might be wrong. Now, here was the evidence as plain as day, and since the poacher had killed two swans, would he not come back for the others? Duke’s thoughts were interrupted when Linda tapped him on the shoulder and said, “I know how you must feel, Duke. I loved those trumpeters, too.”
“So did I,” added Allen. “I can’t figure out why a person would shoot them on a wildlife refuge. Why, it’s the meanest thing he could do—kill two rare birds.” Allen kicked up some dirt with his foot. As he turned around, his face brightened. There in front of him was a trail of animal footprints.
“Hey, look!” he exclaimed. “Aren’t these coyote tracks?”
“They sure are,” answered Duke. “A pair of coyotes was here. See how the marks cross each other.”
Linda got down on her hands and knees and studied the prints closely. “Now we don’t know who killed the trumpeters.”
“That’s right,” answered Allen. “We don’t.”
He pulled a chewed-up pencil and a piece of paper out of his pocket. His mother’s old grocery list was written on it, but Allen decided he would jot down the clues on the other side.
Duke and Linda watched over his shoulder as he scrawled in large letters: BROWN BUTTON, MAN’S FOOTPRINTS, TWO BLOODY WHITE FEATHERS, PAIR OF COYOTE TRACKS.
“I can’t see what you wrote, Allen,” said Candy, standing on tiptoe. Then, realizing she could not read, she said to Linda, “You tell me.”
Linda repeated what Allen had written, and Duke said to him, “Good work. I’m relying on you to keep track of the evidence.”
Allen looked pleased. “I’ll rewrite the clues in a notebook later.”
“Yes, you do that,” said Duke. “We’ve got to work fast if we’re going to save the other swans.”
Linda tugged at her brothers sleeve. “We’d better tell Daddy what happened.”
Duke nodded. “It’s going to be tough to break the news to him. Well, come on, gang. Let’s move.”
“Yes. Let’s,” said Linda. Then she added softly to herself, “I’ll make another wish tonight that nobody kills the other trumpeters.”
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