The Happy Valley Mystery

thunder.
    “Poor sheep,” Brian imitated Trixie. “Poor us, I’d say. It’s a cloudburst!”
    “Mr. Gorman surely can’t still be cross at us when he sees the mess we’re in,” Trixie said and hugged her shoulders. “Golly, but I’m cold!”
    The farm manager, relieved to find both Bob-Whites and sheep safe, wasn’t angry at all. “Good work, Trixie!” he said. “I was afraid for a while I’d never find the rest of the sheep in time to save them.”
    “Jeepers, I didn’t do anything except stumble on to them,” Trixie said. “Tip is the one who found them. Say, Mr. Gorman, did you ever get in the way of a sheep trying to shake itself dry?”
    In spite of the strain he was under, Mr- Gorman had to laugh. “So that’s what almost drowned you.”
    “Yes,” Trixie said, trying to wring out the hem of her heavy sweater. “Mr. Gorman, we’ll never get them out of here.”
    “Oh, yes, we will!” Mr. Gorman said, and he picked up the shovel and went down the ladder. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, by any means. Even with the ravine fenced off, they have a way of getting through. Why, you’re shaking, Trixie. Here, take my sweater. I’ve another under it, and I’ll be warm enough when I get at this job. Give me a hand here, boys.” He handed the ax to Jim. “Go up,” he said, “and chop off a few of the stoutest branches from that tree spanning the gully. Trixie, if you get through that wall of sheep, please go down a way and see if you can find a slope not quite as steep as this one.”
    Trixie jumped ahead to do his bidding. “Where’s Tip?” she asked, suddenly aware that the dog wasn’t with them.
    “He got out and came back, so I shut both of them up in the barn,” Mr. Gorman said. “They’d have driven us crazy, and the sheep, too. We’ll follow you, Trixie, as soon as Jim cuts the branches.”
    Because the sheep had crowded so close to Trixie for warmth, they followed her now, like a dozen Mary’s little lambs. Not far away she found a gentler slope of wall and called back to tell Mr. Gorman, who, with the boys, soon joined her.
    “We’ll make a sort of ramp,” he said, attacking the bank with his shovel, “with shallow steps, then lay the branches on them so the sheep can get a foothold. That’s right, Mart! We’ll have the stairs made in no time.” Trixie watched, fascinated, and did her best to keep the restless sheep out of the way.
    “Now,” Mr. Gorman, said to her, “take a handful of the cracked com out of this bag. Just let them smell it. Don’t give them any right now. Sooooo—sheep! Baaa— sooooo!” he commanded. “There, Trixie, spread a little of the corn over that lower step.”
    Trixie did as she was told. As each step was dug out, she followed after Mr. Gorman and the boys and sprinkled some cracked com. She watched anxiously then, as one of the ewes started to nibble timidly at the lower foothold, then struggled up to the next one. Others followed the lead sheep. Soon all were out of the gully and on solid ground.
    At Mr. Gorman’s bidding, the boys held up the lower fence wires, and Trixie helped the manager to herd the protesting ewes through and toward the home field.
     
    Back home, when the sheep were safe in the sheltered fold, the weary five went into the house. Mrs. Gorman, Honey, and Diana had gone to bed, but they had left food and hot coffee.
    “We’re surely sorry we caused you all this trouble,” Trixie said. “Maybe we can make up for it someway... you know... we just 'might be able to find some clue that will help you find the stolen sheep.”
    “Don’t worry anymore about anything, Trixie,” Mr. Gorman said, rubbing his head wearily. “It all turned out all right tonight. In the first place, I should have remembered to tell you to lock the gate. As for the stolen sheep, that’s a problem for the law, not for girls and boys. I’m sorry I was so cross tonight. Mr. Belden wanted you to have fun. This business tonight can’t qualify as fun, but it surely can be called adventure.”
    “Yes, indeed,” Mart called back as the boys started through the back door for their quarters in the barn. “And adventure is Trixie’s middle name, isn’t it, Trix, old girl?”
    Trixie didn’t answer. She was halfway up the stairs. Not a problem for boys and girls, she said to herself. Then why hasn’t that sheriff discovered even one little tiny clue by this time? Jeepers, Honey and I have solved far bigger