Chili Dog and the cookbook treasure.

One morning, Chili Dog brought in the mail to his owner, Mrs. Mitt.

"What's this?" Mrs. Mitt said. She read the flyer:

"Best-in-the-West" Chili Cook-off.

Grand Prize:

A Chili-Tasting Tour of Texas. Come to the park on Sunday and cook your best chili.

Chili Dog thumped his tail. "Woof!" "I'm sorry, Chili Dog," Mrs. Mitt said. "My chili is good. But it is not the best in the West."

Just then, a man walked into the shop. "I have something to trade," he said.

"Fine," said Mrs. Mitt. "We buy, sell, and trade."

"I'd like that mandolin," he said.

"What would you like to trade?" asked Mrs. Mitt.

"This treasure book!" said the man. "My great-great-grandma wrote it. She left this note in it." He handed Mrs. Mitt a slip of paper covered with tomato-red splotches. It said, There's treasure in this book if you know how to look.

The man sighed. "I can't figure it out. There's no map. Just recipes. It's a mystery."

"What do you think, Chili Dog?" asked Mrs. Mitt.

Chili Dog thumped his tail.

"I agree. Great-great-grandmas never lie. OK, let's trade."

The man took the mandolin. Mrs. Mitt took the book. They shook hands, and the man left.

"Now, let's find a treasure!" said Mrs. Mitt.

Mrs. Mitt read the red-spattered note again. Then she shook the book. She hunted for clues. She tried codes. She tested for invisible ink. She puzzled. She poked. She prodded.

Finally she said, "I give up. I'll never find the treasure."

Chili Dog sniffed the note. Then he licked off a big delicious-smelling spot. "Woof!"

Mrs. Mitt read the note again. Now it said, There's treasure in this book if you know how to cook.

"Oh!" she said, laughing. "Those spots must have been splashes of sauce! They made 'cook' look like 'look.' Great-Great-Grandma meant that her recipes were treasures."

Chili Dog nosed the book. It fell open easily. The page was spotted and dotted with more sauce. Chili Dog barked.

"Grandma's Rooting-Tooting Chili,'" Mrs. Mitt read. She smiled. "OK, Chili Dog. Let's cook lunch!"

Mrs. Mitt chopped and diced. She cooked and stirred. She hummed and sang.

Finally, she gave Chili Dog a taste. His eyes rolled. His ears flapped. His tail spun.

Mrs. Mitt tasted some. Her eyes rolled. She stamped her feet. She flapped her arms.

"This is good chili!" she said. "It's the best I've ever tasted. Say, I have an idea!"

That Sunday at the Chili Cook-off, the judges tasted the chili Mrs. Mitt had prepared. Their eyes rolled. They stamped their feet. They blew their noses. "Now, that is good chili!" they said. "Best in the West!"

"Guess we're going to Texas, after all," said Mrs. Mitt. "Great-Great-Grandma's recipe really is a treasure!"

Chili Dog thumped his tail.