Surviving Summer Vacation by Willo Davis Roberts Page B

elk, though—magnificent animals that grazed within a few yards of us, unperturbed. It was as if they knew they were safe within the park: they ignored us until Mrs. Rupe approached too close to snap a picture, then the bull moved off and the cows followed.
    We saw literally hundreds of buffalo. Several times we got held up because one of the great shaggy beasts was ambling up the middle of a narrow road and we couldn’t get past it.
    I could see people in other vehicles snapping pictures and peering out in interest. ­Ariadne pressed close to Alison. “Will it bite me?” she asked.
    There were a few mule deer, too. It was different seeing them in the wild than it had been watching them in a zoo. It was kind of exciting to have a wild animal come right up alongside of the coach.
    â€œWait until I stop,” Mr. Rupe said to Harry. “These windows, except for the windshield, are all tinted. You won’t get good pictures through the darker glass.”
    Harry didn’t pay any attention. When ananimal came in sight, he began clicking away. Billy looked if they were really close, but mostly he was still more interested in the cat. I wondered if his folks were going to return it to the campground owners, or if they’d let him take it home with them.
    Mrs. Rupe said it was too tiring to drive around the park all day, every day. So by about midafternoon, the first day and every day after, we headed back for the camp. There the little kids could swim or use the playground equipment (with Alison watching them every minute, of course) and Harry could play video games and swim. Mr. and Mrs. Rupe went over to the Nabs to play cards or watch a movie that they didn’t think was suitable for Billy and Ariadne.
    â€œI’m surprised they care,” Alison commented to me. “They don’t seem to care about much else the kids do.”
    â€œMore likely,” I suggested, “they go over there just to get away from the kids. It’s too noisy when they’re here.”
    Alison gave me a wry grin. “Are you getting cynical, Lewis?”
    I thought about it and nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
    As much of the time as we could, Alison and I poked around in the motor home trying to find a spot that might conceal a quantity of hundred-dollar bills.
    There were lots of nooks and crannies, actually. There were strange little empty spaces in the corners of cupboards and behind the couch and in the map pouches. There were lots of drawers and doors everywhere that opened onto big compartments and small ones, and some that opened on fuse boxes and had no hiding places at all. There was space in the closet, and behind the little TV that pulled out on a shelf in the bedroom and beneath the clothes basket behind one of the doors, and there was a flap of carpet in the bedroom that folded back to reveal a safe set into the floor. It was just a hiding place, really, like a can set into the floor. I got excited when I found that, but when I got it open, it was disappointingly empty.
    Billy walked in before I got it closed. “What’s that?” he asked.
    â€œA hiding place. I’m trying to find some more of that money you found, Billy. Maybe you can help me.”
    An expression crossed his face that I couldn’t describe, but it sent a prickle up my back. “You probably don’t remember where you got it, though, right?”
    â€œRight,” Billy said. Another disappointment. But somehow I was convinced he did know where the hundred-dollar bill had come from.
    â€œWere there a whole lot of bills where you found the other one?”
    It was no use. Billy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.
    If money had been hidden in one of the compartments under the coach, I was out of luck. They could be opened only from outside the motor home, and I didn’t have the keys. And from what I remembered when we were loading, I thought they were just big open