Mystery at the Ski Jump by Carolyn Keene Page B

been carved out of snow.
    “Aren’t they wonderful!” Nancy cried out. As she and Ned stood staring at the snow giants, Nancy felt a hand on her arm.
    “Nancy Drew—this is a surprise!” said a familiar voice.
    “Why, Chuck Wilson!” Nancy gasped. “What are you doing here?”
    “Pinch-hitting as a ski instructor.” Chuck grinned. “The regular pro has a broken leg. And now tell me what you’re doing here.”
    Nancy introduced the two young men, then told Chuck about the house party at her aunt’s camp.
    “Oh, Chuck, I have a grand surprise for you!” she added. “Guess what! John Horn’s here!”
    “Here!” The skier looked incredulous. “At your camp? I’ll be right over!”
    Ned looked none too pleased at this suggestion. “John’s not staying with us,” he said.
    Ned lost his glum look, however, when Chuck insisted upon lending the couple skis, boots and poles, and suggested that they take a few runs. For the next half hour Ned and Nancy enjoyed themselves on the ski slopes.
    “Nancy, your skiing has certainly improved,” Ned said, smiling.
    “The credit for that goes to Chuck.”
    Below them, Chuck Wilson waved his hand. “Hey, why don’t you try jumping off that mogul?” he called.
    “I’m game,” Nancy cried, pushing off, after leaving her poles against a tree. “Come on, Ned!”
    Nancy went first, taking off beautifully from the top of the huge bump. Ned followed but his was by far the higher and the longer jump.
    “Well, at least I didn’t spill.” Nancy laughed as they pulled up alongside the ski instructor. “And now I think we’d better start back to camp.”
    “Nancy, I’ll see you again soon, won’t I?” Chuck pleaded.
    “We’re all coming over here tomorrow,” she promised. Then, with a teasing glance at Ned, she added, “But there’s no reason why we can’t see more of each other today. Ned and I haven’t had lunch, so why don’t you join us in the dining room?”
    “Thanks, I will. But let’s go downstairs to the snack corner.”
    Nancy and Ned returned the borrowed equipment, and Chuck checked his skis and poles at the long rack outside the beam-ceilinged room, which was crowded with skiing enthusiasts.
    Their appetites whetted by a morning in the crisp mountain air, the trio ate heartily. When they finished, Ned and Nancy insisted they must leave, instead of joining the group which lingered by the fireplace discussing slalom and downhill racing.
    Outside, as they were fastening on their snowshoes for the long hike back to camp, Nancy turned to Chuck. “By the way, do you know of any mink ranches around here?”
    “There’s one up on that ridge where the run for the ski jump starts. The ranch is owned by Charlie Wells.”
    “Let’s go home that way,” Nancy suggested to Ned. “We may pick up some information about the Forest Fur Company and Dunstan Lake.”
    They rode up on the lift and trekked off along the ridge. Half a mile farther on, they neared the ranch buildings. A man came running toward them.
    “Did you meet anyone or see anyone leaving here?” he asked excitedly.
    “No,” Ned replied. “Is something the matter?”
    “I’ll say there’s something the matter,” the man growled. “Some of my finest mink pelts have been stolen!”

CHAPTER XV
    Racing a Storm
    STOLEN!
    An idea clicked in Nancy’s mind. Could the person who had taken the pelts from Wells’s ranch be one of the Forest Fur Company gang? Quickly she introduced Ned and herself.
    “Did you lose many minks?” Nancy asked.
    “About two thousand dollars’ worth,” the man replied. “Half my take for the year.”
    “You own the mink ranch?” Ned inquired.
    “Yes. I’m Charlie Wells.”
    “When were the pelts stolen?”
    “I’m not sure. Just a few minutes ago I noticed the door of the storage house was half open.”
    “Did you see any new tracks in the snow?” Nancy asked.
    “No, but we had a hard blow here early this morning. The snow could have filled up