The Marshland Mystery

should do? Tell Miss Crandall or phone the police?” Jim asked.
    “I’d say don’t do either until you have a lot more evidence than Trixie has found so far,” Brian said promptly. “I happen to know that the old lady who lives in the cottage out there is very respectable. In fact, she’s the last of the Martins, Miss Rachel. She’s lived in that cottage ever since the big Martin place burned forty years ago. Dad knows her. He’s had to go out there several times on business for the bank.”
    “But she acted so weird!” Trixie protested.
    “People who live alone get pretty set in their ways,” Jim told her with a smile. “Maybe you interrupted her daily beauty nap.”
    “But what about the rhinestone from Mr. Poo’s collar? How do you think that got there?” Trixie persisted.
    “You don’t know for sure that it is from his collar,” Jim reminded her. “I guess we do have a pretty shaky case.”
    “Then aren’t we going to do anything about it?” she asked indignantly.
    The two boys exchanged uneasy glances. “How about dashing out there in the car and getting the bike?” Brian suggested. “We can be back before dark if we just take a quick look around. We might be able to pick up a trail if the kid wandered into the swamp instead of going to the cottage.”
    “I want to go with you,” Trixie said.
    “What about Lady? Are you going to let her stand there and catch cold?” Brian asked. “I think you’d better get her up to the stable and start grooming her, before she gets chilled.”
    “Gleeps! I almost forgot her,” Trixie moaned.
    Brian looked inquiringly at Jim, and Jim nodded. “Okay,” Brian agreed, “you’ve nagged us into it. Weil help you with Lady, and then you can come with us.” The stable seemed deserted as they led the mare in and went to work on her.
    It took only a few minutes for Brian and Jim to clean the tack with saddle soap and sponge while Trixie was brushing Lady. She wasn’t quite finished with the job when they put the top on the saddle soap can and squeezed the sponge dry.
    “Come on, slowpoke!” Brian teased her, and when she threatened to throw the brush at him, he took it from her, and he and Jim finished grooming Lady while Trixie stood off and bossed the job.
    Then, while Brian took Lady to her stall and made her comfortable, Jim carried the saddle into the tack room. Trixie followed with the brushes, soap, sponge, and currycomb.
    “Trix,” Jim said suddenly as he turned from hanging up the saddle, “don’t you think you’d better let Brian and me go out alone to Martin’s Marsh? I don’t want to scare you, but—well, you know, all sorts of accidents happen to people in swamps. And if Gaye is hurt—”
    Trixie shook her head. “I’ll be all right. And I’m still just as sure as anything that she didn’t wander into the swamp. It must have been raining when she fell into that ditch, and I’m positive she wouldn’t have gone anywhere except to Miss Martin’s cottage. She must be there!”
    “I hope you’re right.” Jim was very solemn. “Well, come on; let’s get started. We haven’t much daylight left.”
    He hurried out, and Trixie took a couple of steps after him. As she did, something cast a moving shadow across the window, and she distinctly heard a footstep on the gravel along the side of the building.
    She crossed the room quickly, unfastened the window screen, pushed it up so she could poke her head out, and looked up and down the length of the walk behind the stable. But there was no one in sight. Whoever had passed the window just now was gone, down one of the alleys between the buildings.
    She withdrew her head quickly and fastened the screen securely. Then she hurried out to tell the boys that someone might have heard their plans to go out to Martin’s Marsh to look for Gaye.
    Jim and Brian refused to get excited about it. “It was probably one of the assistant grooms or Mike the gardener. He keeps his new mower in the end building because there isn’t room for it in the toolshed. It’s one of those big ones with a seat for the guy who’s running it,” Jim said. “He’s promised to let me run it next time he barbers the grass. It ought to be a kick.”
    “Say, how about letting me try it? That old elephant of Dad’s has me worn out from pushing it around our two bits’ worth of lawn,” Brian told him. “Let me know when you’ll be piloting it.”
    Trixie looked from one to the other, and her eyes