The Happy Valley Mystery

“Hush!” Jim said. “Ooooo-baaaa-aaaa! Sooooo-sheep!” It must not have sounded funny to the sheep, even if it did to the Bob-Whites, for their heads went up, and when two big ewes started toward Jim’s voice, the rest obediently followed.
    The boys went out into the field then, to run ahead of the sheep toward the shelter field. “After them, Tip! Trixie called. “Good boy, Tag!” Heads up, barking, their tails going like semaphores, the dogs ran back and forth, circling always, herding the sheep into a smaller area, directing them toward the shelters.
    “Tip’s gone astray after something,” Mart called as one of the collies disappeared over the top of a knoll. "After a cottontail, I’ll bet. The snow brings them out. I wish he’d keep his mind on the business at hand. Where does he think he’s going?”
    “Let him alone. The sheep are all going through the gate now,” Trixie said. Then, as she caught sight of Tip, she shouted, “There he is now. See what he found!” Over the knoll, urged ahead by the circling collie, came two young ewes, protesting angrily.
    “Tip knows more than a person does,” Brian said. “There goes Tag now.”
    After half a dozen such forays, the dogs seemed to be content. “They’re so smart,” Mart said. “I believe they can even count, and they know that now the flock’s all in and safe.”
    It seemed so, indeed, for the collies watched Jim and Brian pull the gate shut, saw the sheep seek shelter under the roofed sheds, then followed the Bob-Whites back to the house.
    They were just inside when the telephone rang. Diana answered. “Yes, Mr. Gorman. Oh, yes, everything’s fine. The boys and Trixie just came in. Here’s Brian. Do you want to speak to him?”
    They all listened to Mr. Gorman’s voice. It sounded strained at first. They couldn’t hear what he was saying to Brian, but Trixie gave a sigh of relief as the manager’s voice softened and seemed less worried when Brian told him the sheep were all under shelter.
    “It wasn’t any too soon,” Trixie sighed. “The snow must be two inches deep now. No wonder Mr. Gorman was worried. It’s still snowing. It doesn’t snow big wet wads of flakes like this in Sleepyside, does it?”
    “Let’s forget Sleepyside for the moment,” Mart suggested. “Say, Di, something smells wonderful! After dinner let’s watch TV, shall we?”
    “With that Ping-Pong table in the basement? Not me!” Jim said. “Let’s pair up. Trixie and I’ll take you all on in turns.”
    “Mrs. Gorman said there’s an old record player in the playroom,” Honey said, “and some records more than twenty years old. She thought we’d have a ball playing them.”
    “Twenty years old... gosh!” Trixie said. “I didn’t even know they made records that long ago. It’ll probably be one of those old machines with a big horn. You know... someone gave us one to sell at our antique show for UNICEF.”
    “It’s not that ancient. I saw it,” Brian said. “Jimmy, Trixie, you’d think twenty years ago was the Dark Ages. They had pretty slick songs then. Dick Drake and his gang sing some of them now.”
    “And I think they’re cute,” Honey said. “Come on, let’s have our dinner now. Di actually made some com bread!”
    “It was a mix,” Diana said modestly. “For the rest of the dinner, Mrs. Gorman had a thick slice of ham ready to go into the oven. She puts mustard and pineapple juice and—”
    “The more glop you put on ham, the better I like it,” Mart said. “What’s keeping us?”
    “Washing your hands, for one thing,” Trixie said. “Mart, hurry up, ’cause there’s apple pie for dessert.” While they were eating, Tip and Tag didn’t seem able
    to settle down, though they had eaten their food eagerly when Trixie gave it to them. They ran in and out of the dining room, back and forth to the back door, whining restlessly.
    “What do you think is wrong with the dogs?” Trixie asked. “If it weren’t storming so hard, I’d think we should let them out to run.”
    “It’s the wind that bothers them,” Mart said. “Dogs don’t like wind.”
    “I don’t like it, either,” Trixie said. “I’m glad the sheep are all safe and that we could do at least that much to help the Gormans.”
    “They’re surely wonderful to us,” Honey said. “I’m glad, too, that you could help.”
     
    When Mr. and Mrs. Gorman returned, the Bob-Whites didn’t hear them at first. The record player was going full