The Black Jacket Mystery

guess maybe our hunch that Dan is Mr. Maypenny’s grandson makes more sense than thinking Regan’s related to him, at that.” She seemed disappointed.
    “I agree,” Honey said, “no matter what Dan says.”
    “Oh, dear.” Trixie sighed. “I thought I had a brand-new mystery.” She clutched Honey’s arm suddenly and pointed down the drive toward the cottage clubhouse. “Hey, the door’s open! Wonder who’s in there.”
    “Let’s find out!” Honey answered, and they ran down the driveway toward the cottage. “I hope Jim’s home!”
    But when they went inside, there was no one in the pretty little “conference” room with its table and chairs. The posters were spread out in readiness; the paints were unopened, just as the boys had left them to wait for Jim to come back from the field trip to the Catskills.
    Honey poked her head around the end of the plywood partition that closed off the storage area where their summer and winter sports equipment was neatly stacked. It was darker in there. “Nobody here!” she called out.
    A moment later she gave a shriek and came backing away. “An animal! I saw some kind of a wild animal in there!” She grabbed Trixie and pulled her toward the front door. “Come on; let’s get out of here!”
    “What kind of an animal?” Trixie’s curiosity was stronger than her fears. She took a step toward the partition, but Honey held on to her arm.
    “Don’t go! It’s big and fuzzy and has beady eyes!” Her teeth were chattering. “I’m sure it’s a bear!”
     

Jim’s Advice • 9
     
    A BEAR?” TRIXIE GRABBED Honey's hand. “Let’s get out of here!”
    They ran for the door, sure that the bear was close on their heels. But when they were safely outside the cottage clubhouse and dared to look back, there was no sign of the bear. The doorway was empty.
    “Thank goodness! He probably was as scared of me as I was of himl” Honey giggled nervously. “Now what do we do to get rid of him?”
    “Get rid of whom?” Jim s voice came as a surprise. Both Trixie and Honey knew that Jim was supposed to have gotten back late the night before, but neither had seen him yet.
    He was standing behind them, several cardboard posters tucked under his arm and a grin on his face.
    “Oh, Jim! I’m so glad you got back! There’s a horrible big bear in our clubhouse! What can we do to chase him out?” Honey asked a little hysterically.
    “A bear? In there?” Jim didn’t seem too worried.
    “I’d better call Regan,” Trixie suggested hastily.
    “No need,” Jim assured her confidently. “It’s probably only a cub, and I can handle it. Just wait here.”
    “But it looked big to me!” Honey protested. “Please don’t get hurt, Jim.”
    “No chance,” he boasted and strode bravely toward the doorway.
    “Here, grab this and let’s help.” Trixie was handing Honey a length of firewood from the pile against the toolshed and taking a second piece for herself.
    “Hit him on the nose, if you get a chance,” Trixie instructed Honey. “It’s their most vulner—” She bogged down uncertainly on the long word. “I mean, it hurts beasts the most to be hit on the nose!”
    “I should think so.” Honey shuddered.
    Up ahead, Jim disappeared into the clubhouse, and for a moment the two girls held back, listening fearfully. There was no sound of a struggle inside the cottage.
    “Maybe it went to sleep when we went away,” Trixie whispered hopefully, edging nearer.
    They got close enough to the doorway to peer inside, but it was too dark in there for them to see anything. And there wasn’t a sound.
    “I guess we’d better go on in. Jim may need us,” Trixie told Honey under her breath.
    They both wanted to run away, but they went through the open doorway, and there, on the conference table, was a bear, black and fuzzy and staring at them with shiny eyes. But it wasn’t a live bear. It was standing on a platform with rollers, and it was wearing a pretty red leather harness.
    Jim was grinning at them from the other side of the room. “Meet Mister Bear!” He laughed.
    “Jim! It’s darling!” They made a rush for it. “Where did it come from?” Honey asked.
    “We dragged it home from Sleepyside,” Mart’s voice came from the doorway. “The toy-shop man, Mr. Martin, donated it as a prize for the best skater under ten years old at the carnival!” Mart and Brian were coming in with their arms loaded with stuff. “Wait till you see all the loot we picked