Clang! Clang!

The bell rang twice. The “super-secret power porch” coasted into a tunnel and stopped. The door creaked open. Samantha jumped out of her chair, grabbed her umbrella and backpack, and headed out the door. Nipper fished the last cracker from the bag and popped it in his mouth.

“On my way,” he called, mouth full of cracker. He picked the pug up and followed Samantha into a dusty room.

It was more of a shack than a building, just one small room with a bare wooden floor and a table, but no chairs. A half-closed door to the outside was about ten feet away. Samantha was standing at the table. Nipper crossed the room to take a look.

The table displayed brochures in many languages. Next to them, the label on a glass jar read “Depósite un nuevo sol.” Colorful Peruvian banknotes filled the jar.

Samantha sorted through the brochures on the table.

“Here’s one in English,” she said, and held it up for him to see.

PERU’S SKY STRONGHOLD TRAIL

RELAX ON OUR MOUNTAIN

Samantha took a nuevo sol bill from a side pocket of her backpack and stuffed it into the jar. Then she took out the purple sunglasses and stared at the front of the brochure.

“PSST,” she said. “Room.”

Nipper wasn’t sure what his sister meant, but she was doing just fine with the reading and the puzzling.

“You search for clues. I’ll search for crackers,” he said.

He pushed open the front door and headed outside to look around.

A narrow porch ran the length of the building. They were far from any city now. A dense forest surrounded the small shack. He could hear a river nearby. He leaned left and right and saw green mountain peaks through the foliage. A gravel trail began at the front steps and disappeared into the forest a few yards away.

“Are you still reading, Sam?” he called. “I see a trail out here.”

A man wearing a bowler hat and a green T-shirt sat on a stool nearby, reading a book. A few feet away, a llama stood, tethered to a post, in a patch of grass.

Nipper waved to the man.

“Is your llama friendly?” he asked.

The man looked up from his book.

“Oh yes, señor,” he said, nodding. “Very friendly.”

Cautiously, Nipper walked up to the animal. He stroked the side of its snout gently and began to pet its fuzzy neck.

“Howdy, llama. How’s your mama?” he said in his best I’m-so-charming voice.

The llama craned its neck back and gave Nipper an evil look. It was chewing something, slowly.

Pfftooie! Pfftooie!

Two slimy globs of spit hit Nipper in the chest.

Nipper looked down at his shirt. “Oh, yuck!” he said. “What kind of gross—”

Wham!

The llama cut Nipper off with a sideways swing of its head, bashing him in the shoulder and knocking him to the ground.

“Ow!” he shouted. “That really hurt!”

Nipper was starting to stand up when the llama bent down and chomped the bottom of his pant leg. Growling and snorting, it lurched left and right, dragging Nipper across the gravel.

“Stop it!” Nipper shouted.

He looked over and saw Samantha exiting the shack. She was still reading the brochure.

“Help!” he yelled.

The llama let go of Nipper’s pants and reared back on its hind legs.

“Hrrarr!” it bellowed.

Whomp!

The llama’s front hooves struck the ground, narrowly missing Nipper’s face. It began to kick. Nipper struggled to shield his face from the shower of rocks and dirt.

The llama made a long, horrible, slurping sound as it worked up another batch of spit. Then, as if changing its mind, it suddenly bent down and clamped onto the bottom of Nipper’s shirt. It growled as it tugged, dragging him farther away from the porch. Jerking its head back, the llama tore Nipper’s shirt off completely!

“Sammy!” Nipper shouted.

“Hrrarr!” the llama roared, shaking its head with the shirt in its mouth.

It reared up on its hind legs again.

Dennis scampered out of the building.

“Wruf! Wruf!” he yapped.

The llama stilled and gazed down at the little barking dog. It dropped the shirt, stepped to the other side of the hitching post, bent down, and nibbled on some grass as if nothing had happened.

Samantha rushed over to help Nipper.

“Wait here,” he told her.

Trembling, Nipper staggered up to the man on the stool.

“I…thought,” he panted, “you said…your llama…was friendly.”

“He is, amigo,” said the man, looking very serious.

He adjusted his bowler hat.

“But that is not my llama,” he added.

Samantha grabbed Nipper’s arm before he could respond. She pointed to the gravel trail.

“That connects with the main road to Machu Picchu,” she said.

She pulled Nipper’s New York Yankees sweatshirt from her backpack and handed it to him. Nipper put it on. Then he looked back at the man on the stool.

“Here,” said Samantha.

She handed him the two remaining granola bars. He paused and put them in the front pocket of the sweatshirt. He looked over at the man in the bowler hat again.

“Hand me the other bag of clown seasoning,” he muttered.

She shook her head and pointed to the trail.

“Forget about that guy,” she said. “There are too many clowns in this world. You can’t season them all.”