Mysteries in Our National Parks: The Hunted: A Mystery in Glacier National Park. Gloria Skurzynski

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      Heavy metal blared through the cab of the van, so loud it rattled the coffee cup sitting on the dashboard. “Hey, Max, shut off that radio,” the driver shouted.

      “Why?”

      “Just do it. We ought to be getting sounds from back there about now, but I can’t hear anything over all that music.”

      “Yeah, well….” Max looked uncomfortable. “Maybe they shoulda been awake even before this. See, Terry, I…uh…kinda took it easy on the drug.”

      “You what?” With a squeal of tires, the van screeched to a halt along the edge of the highway.

      “I didn’t want to overdose them. You know, ’cause they’re pretty young,” Max apologized.

      “You idiot!” Terry raged, tearing off his dark glasses to shoot murderous glances at Max. “Go back there and check how they’re doing.”

      Quickly, Max kicked open the passenger door and ran to the back of the delivery van. Unlocking the double doors, he swung them wide. Then he yelled. “Holy—! You won’t believe this, Terry. You better get back here.”

      CHAPTER ONE

      Was it happening? Was that what he felt—the first stirring of the earth beneath his hands and feet? Crouched under the hide of a dead buffalo calf, he commanded his tense body to remain still. No movement. Not until the right moment.

      Now he was sure he felt it. He began to hear it, too. First a murmur, a muted pounding of thousands of hoofs. Then, like the swelling of ceremonial drums, a growing rumble. Did he dare turn his head to see how close the buffalo were? Better not: One movement too soon might send his own scent, the smell of 12-year-old boy, toward the big bull leading the stampeding herd to the cliff.

      Now? The roar of hoofs, the lowing and snorting of the huge animals, the cries of frightened calves—all of it stabbed his hearing and took away his breath.

      Now! First scrambling on all fours, then sprinting in a crouch, he bellowed like a lost calf, praying that the lead cow would think he was a calf and turn toward him. Straight for the edge of the cliff he ran, terrified but at the same time exhilarated.

      To the shortsighted buffalo dashing at full speed behind him, the ground ahead would appear to rise gently, like a low hill. By the time the buffalo herd finally saw the cliff, saw that the surface dropped off into nothingness, it would be too late. The lead bull and the lead cow would plunge over the edge, with most of the herd following, each animal plummeting through emptiness until they all lay smashed on the rocks beneath.