The Black Jacket Mystery

something! Think!” But her mind seemed to be numbed.
    Then, as for the umpteenth time she turned slowly, searching the darkness for some sign of where she was, she saw against the inky darkness the flickering of a distant campfire. The bushes that had stood between her and the welcome sight were being whipped about by the wind, or she wouldn’t have caught even that small glimpse of the little fire.
    She cupped her hands around her mouth and halloed, but even as she was doing it, she knew it was useless. The wind was carrying the sound away.
    There was no choice. She had to get to that campfire and bring help for Bobby. She took a few steps, almost sobbing with relief.
    But she came to a sudden stop before she had gone two yards. How would she get back to this dark place? She could see no landmarks to remember, and the trees around looked like a thousand other trees in the labyrinth. Suppose she went to the campfire for help and couldn’t get back to Bobby again. It was too big a risk.
    She couldn’t just stay there. There had to be an answer! She tried to think carefully.
    Suddenly it came to her. Her white wool sweater! Aunt Alicia knitted it on big wooden needles so it would be fashionably bulky. It would unravel easily.
    She pulled it off over her head and tore apart the big stitches of the bottom border. Once she had found the right stitch to pull, the rest was easy. The sweater unraveled with miraculous speed.
    She tied the end of the white wool to the bush that grew beside the cave entrance and started toward the distant fire, letting the sweater unravel as she went.
    In and out, down ravines and up again, between trees and around rocks, Trixie went grimly on. When the woolen yarn gave out at a knot, she tied it again and went on, and always there was an unbroken string of white between her and the cave.
    Then, at last, she came to the final barrier of wind-tossed bushes and shoved her way through to stand on the edge of the clearing where, only a hundred feet away, the small fire burned brightly and there was a smell of cooking meat on the air.
    She stumbled forward with a word of greeting on her lips, almost hysterical with relief. But before the two who sat beside the fire could glance her way, she stopped dead, the greeting unspoken.
    The two at the fire were runaway Dan Mangan and another boy in a black jacket. While she stood rooted to the spot, staring unhappily at them, the other boy rose and went to the fire to help himself to whatever it was they were cooking.
    He was tall, and she saw by the firelight that he was dark and sharp-faced and seemed a few years older than Dan.
    Would they help her rescue Bobby? Or would they refuse and sneer at her for her helplessness? Dan might still be angry and hurt at the way she had acted toward him. “But if I tell him I know he didn’t steal our temper money and didn’t hurt Mr. Maypenny, then I’d have to say I thought it was the other one with him who had done it! And he’d refuse to help Bobby or let Dan help!”
     

Rescue • 10
     
    TRIXIE CROUCHED in the darkness and watched the two figures at the campfire. She was blue with cold, and the thought of Bobby trapped in the hole in the mountain was making her desperate. But what could she expect from them?
    She could see that they were quarreling. The tall, broad-shouldered boy stood over Dan Mangan and said something angrily. She could see Dan look startled and sullen, but he shook his head as if he were refusing something.
    Now the tall one was picking up a canvas knapsack and slinging it over his shoulder. He was getting ready to leave. But Dan just sat where he was, staring at him and shaking his head.
    Trixie darted to the shelter of a pile of granite rocks only ten or twelve feet from the two boys. The moment that the tall boy left, she intended to rush to Dan Mangan and ask him to help rescue Bobby.
    The wind carried their voices to her as she crouched there, shivering.
    “A guy can change his mind about things, can’t he?” Dan protested defiantly.
    “Yeah, if he’s too yeller to take a chance!” the tall one sneered. “Your letter said there’d be good pick-in’s at the Wheeler joint and you’d show me the ropes so we could get in an’ out again without any trouble. Now you’re backin’ down!”
    Dan was on his feet now, and seemed a little uncertain. “But, Luke! They’re not like I thought they were. They’re real regular, and so’s old man Maypenny.”
    “You’re just