The Black Jacket Mystery

Trixie said fervently. “After all we’ve been through, I just know I wouldn’t have been able to live another minute if Moms had so much as frowned at me!”
    “And now that my moron sister is back to normal, suppose you let me tell you that Jim has finished sketching the posters, and tomorrow you artists start filling in the colors, pr-ronto! So Brian and I will be able to distribute them to the worthy merchants who have promised their support—to say nothing of the prizes were hoping they’ll donate, one and all!”
    “We’ll get at them first thing in the morning!” Trixie promised. “Where are the posters now?”
    “At the banquet hall—I mean, our kitchen.”
    They were turning in at the gate of Crabapple Farm just then, laughing and talking excitedly, when Jim appeared on the front porch and rang the old-fashioned dinner gong.
    “Coming, son!” Mart shouted, and they all trooped up onto the porch and into the house.
    The boys had set the kitchen table for the meal, and Bobby had been enthroned at one end, well out of the line of traffic. His eyes were big with excitement, and he yelled, “Hi, Trixie and Honey! Look at me!” to the girls as they entered. “I’m hungry!”
    “Don’t rush the cook, buddy!” Brian warned as he stood over the stove in a haze of smoke from well-sizzled hamburgers. “And the rest of you, finish setting the table!”
    There was so much excitement over the amateur cooking going on and so much confusion for the next few minutes that the girls didn’t tell their experiences in the woods. But when they finally all sat down to enjoy the scorched hamburgers, plus all the trimmings that Mrs. Belden had left perfectly prepared for their dinner, Trixie announced, “You’re just lucky we ever got here tonight,” in her most dramatic tone.
    “Now, that sounds like a cue line,” Brian told her gravely. “Am I supposed to ask you to go on?”
    “Just try and stop her!” Mart snickered.
    But when Trixie, with Honey’s excited help, had told about the wildcat tracks and the horrible howling that had panicked their horses, Jim didn’t laugh or try to joke about it.
    “Just how big were the tracks?” he asked Trixie seriously. “And about how far apart were they?” And when the girls had agreed on the size of the tracks and measured off along the table edge just about how great the distance had been between them, Jim nodded grimly. “It sounds to me as if you missed meeting a lot bigger animal than a mere wildcat!”
    “Catamount?” Brian asked quickly.
    Jim nodded, his expression serious. “Possibly. And from the length of its stride, if the girls remember rightly, it was a granddaddy of its species!”
    “No wonder those poor mares were hysterical!” Trixie shivered. “I hope Mr. Maypenny—er—catches up with it.” She glanced at Bobby as she hastily substituted the word “catches” for “kills,” the word she had started to say.
    Jim noticed her glance and nodded reassuringly. “Oh, I imagine he will. He has quite a reputation in Sleepyside as a—uh—catamount catcher.”
    “I wanna go see the kitty. Trixie said we could have another kitty. Maybe I can have this one. Huh, Trixie?” Bobby’s eyes reflected his excitement. “I hope it has spots.”
    “I’m afraid not, Bobby,” Brian spoke quickly. “Not this kind of kitty. It’s a dirty-looking tan color, and—”
    “And it has long, sharp claws!” Trixie concluded for him.
    “Oh!” Bobby wrinkled his nose. “I guess I don’t want it.”
    Mart said, “Next spring, you and I will go looking together for a cute little kitty that you can cuddle. I think I know where there’ll be a whole family of them—in Mr. Maypenny’s barn. And you can pick out the one you want How’s that skipper?”
    “You’ll forget” Bobby’s eyes were misty and his lower lip began to tremble, a sure sign of tears on the way.
    “Cross my heart an’ hope to die,” his big brother promised solemnly and went through the necessary motions.
    “Now eat the rest of your dinner, and I’ll read you two whole stories at bedtime, any two you want to hear-how’s that?” Honey asked him gaily.
    “Okay!” Sunshine broke through the clouds, and Bobby went back contentedly to the rest of his slightly charred but tasty hamburger sandwich, while the carefully guarded talk went on around him. There was a strict rule in the Belden household that Bobby should not be terrified by fearsome stories at any time, and