The Happy Valley Mystery

suggested.
    “That, Beatrix Belden,” Mart said, “is the wildest idea you ever had in your life, and you’ve had some wild ones.”
    How Trixie hated that name “Beatrix,” and now Mart had to say it—in front of Ned, tool “I’ll settle that question,” Brian said. “This bus doesn’t make any more stops till it gets to Happy Valley Farm. So stop bickering.”
     
    Back at the farmhouse, the Bob-Whites all insisted on Ned’s coming into the house with them for something to eat. “Gosh, yes,” Mart said, “come on in, Ned. I hope there’s something to eat. Mrs. Gorman probably left something out.”
    She had—a Thermos of hot chocolate, bags of potato chips, a jar of peanut butter, and a loaf of bread, with a bottle opener nearby to remind them of Cokes in the refrigerator.
    “Where do you suppose Tip and Tag are?” Jim wondered. “I thought they’d be in the house, when they didn’t come up the road to meet us.”
    “That’s right, isn’t it?” Trixie said, and she explained to Ned. “Mr. Gorman told us he never lets the dogs out till everyone is in the house.”
    “They just might flush out the thieves if he did leave them out all evening,” Mart said, ‘Taut then, he knows how to run a sheep farm better than we do.”
    “I hear the dogs barking now,” Trixie said and peered out the window. “It must be Mr. Gorman just coming from the barn. I can see his lantern.”
    She opened the door, and the dogs came rushing ahead of Mr. Gorman and into the house, jumping up on all of them.
    “Down, Tip!” Trixie commanded. “Is anything wrong, Mr. Gorman?”
    “Not yet,” Mr. Gorman answered. “I have a sick ewe out there. The veterinarian told me to watch her carefully, so I got to worrying and went out to see how she’s getting along. He thinks she may be going to have twin lambs. Say, you kids are sort of late getting home, aren’t you? Did you have any trouble with the station wagon?”
    “No, sir, we didn’t,” Brian said. “It runs as smoothly as a Rolls Royce.”
    “And how many Rolls Royces have you driven?” Mart asked, cramming a peanut butter sandwich into his mouth. He didn’t expect an answer and got none.
    “Then you didn’t stop for something to eat, did you? Mary left enough food out for all Rivervale High School.”
    “No, Mr. Gorman,” Trixie said. “This is what happened.” She told him, very dramatically, about the bargain lambs for the barbecue.
    “You say they told Ned they had frozen-food lockers in Valley Park—these men who sold the lambs to the committee?” Mr. Gorman asked.
    “Yes, they did,” Trixie said. “Are there any in Valley Park?”
    “Of course there are,” Mr. Gorman said, laughing, “and, of course, it was the Schwarz brothers you were trying to track down. They not only have food lockers, but they also make the best sausage this side of Pennsylvania. Say, Trixie, are you sure they didn’t have bushy black beards? You know, Ned, she almost had your father behind bars the day before yesterday. It was a pretty close thing!”
    Trixie was indignant. Mr. Gorman insisted upon treating everything she did as a joke. “Why, then,” she asked slowly and pointedly, “did they drive into the woods late at night?”
    “The answer to that is that they didn’t drive into the woods at all,” Mr. Gorman said. “Brian just said that maybe he made a mistake following them when he got to where the road turns off into the woods. Army Post Road goes right on into Valley Park, where the Schwarz brothers live.”
    “I don’t think Brian made any mistake following them. I was watching pretty carefully,” Trixie said with great dignity.
    “Ho, ho, ho!” Mr. Gorman’s hearty laugh filled the room. “First thing you know, you’ll have me arrested, Trixie, for stealing our own sheep. Stay away from those woods, though, all of you, if you want to get back to Sleepyside all in one piece. Good night, kids. Good night, Trixie. Let your uncle and Sheriff Brown and me worry about the sheep.”
    He went up the stairs.
    “That’s some good advice,” Mart said. “Why can’t we just have a good time on this one occasion, without you wearing your Schoolgirl Shamus badge?”
    It was one thing for Jim to call Trixie “Schoolgirl Shamus.” She sort of liked it, because he said it... well, in a sort of liking way. But the way Mart said it made her furious clear through.
    “That’s just enough from you, Mart Belden,” she said. “Go on and