The Happy Valley Mystery

coat,” Trixie answered. “They think it’s a nice soft bed, don’t you, kittens?”
    “Well, I’ll be doggoned,” Ben said as he held a little black kitten in his hand. “Listen to this little fellow purr, will you? Sounds like a motorboat. There, there,” he told the little cat, “I can get that old summer coat cleaned. Don’t be so scared. Its heart is going about a hundred and sixty beats to the second,” he said, and he put the tiny ball of fur into Trixie’s hands. “They sure are cute.”
    Afterward, when they stood around the piano singing while Diana played, Trixie whispered to Honey, “At first I thought I wasn’t going to like Ben at all, but he’s really nice, isn’t he? I guess I like him, after all.”
    A few hours later, something happened to send Trixie’s thoughts hurrying back to her first impression of Ben.
    About eleven thirty, after they had all gone to bed, Trixie still lay awake. The house was quiet. It was quiet outside. Tip and Tag were asleep or off about their dog business in the far fields. Betsy and her calf were quiet. There was no moon, but the stars were so thick in the great bowl of sky that they shed a sort of half-light.
    Suddenly, out of the quiet, Trixie heard two soft whistled notes, one high, one low. Then, after an interval, two more notes.
    “Mart’s signal!” she thought. “Our emergency signal! What can it be?”
    Trixie slid out of bed, put on her jeans, and drew a sweater over her head. She slipped her feet into sneakers and went quietly down the stairs and through the door.
    “It’s Ben!” Mart said. “He pretended to go to bed when we did, but I don’t think he ever did.”
    “What happened?” Trixie whispered.
    “He just left here with a lantern,” Mart answered. “See that light bobbing up the road? He’s trying to shade it with his hand—see, Trixie—right over there past Schulz’s barn?”
    “I see,” said Trixie. “That’s funny, isn’t it? Where do you think he’s going? That’s a silly question. You don’t know any more than I do. Mart, let’s follow him! Let’s see what he’s doing. Do you have your flashlight?”
    In answer, Mart turned the light on and flashed it up and down the road.
    “Don’t do that!” Trixie exclaimed softly. “He’ll find out we’re following him. Just turn it down on the road so we can see. Let’s ran!”
    They ran as fast as they could, keeping the bobbing light of Ben’s lantern in sight. Across Army Post Road he went, down Sand Hill, and along the trail that led to Walnut Woods.
    Trixie and Mart followed. Just inside the entrance to the woods, they lost sight of Ben. “I thought when we passed this woods coming from the airport that it looked like a criminal’s hideout,” Trixie said.
    Mart didn’t answer. “There goes his lantern again, Trixhe said excitedly. “He’s making some sort of signal with it.”
    “He is,” Trixie agreed, her voice tense. “He’s swinging it around in an arc. Look, Mart! Look way beyond him, back there farther in the woods. Do you see anything?”
    “A square of light,” Mart said. “Can it be a window?”
    “Probably,” Trixie said. “If it is, someone just drew the curtain down. Mart, this doesn’t look at all good to me. There goes Ben’s lantern again, signaling.”
    “Yes,” Mart said, “it’s some kind of rendezvous. Let’s get going, Trixie.”
    “All right,” Trixie said and started toward the woods.
    Mart caught her hand, drew her back, and shook his head. “Huh-uh,” he said, “not in there. We don’t know our way six feet ahead of us. Getting lost in Walnut Woods wouldn’t do us any good in solving the mystery.”
    “Well, Mart Belden, of all the crazy things! If you think I’m going to stop now—”
    “Not stop,” Mart answered. “Just be smart for once in your life, Trixie. Let’s go back to the house as quickly as we can, tell Mr. Gorman what’s going on, and then come back here with him. He knows the woods.” Reluctantly Trixie turned and ran—ran up Sand Hill, across Army Post Road, down the farmhouse road, and into Happy Valley Farm. Breathlessly she knocked at Mr. Gorman’s door, Mart close behind her.
    When he opened the door, Mrs. Gorman came out, too. Honey and Diana, aroused, poked their heads from their doors down the hall.
    “It’s Ben!” Trixie gasped.
    “What about Ben? Is he sick?” Mr. Gorman asked. “He’s the thief!” Trixie gasped. “Mart and I caught him