The Marshland Mystery

run out to see Miss Rachel tomorrow and tell her what we’re planning,” Honey said as the meeting broke up.
    “Good idea,” Trixie agreed. “She probably needs some good news after finding out that she has to move away so soon.”
    “I think I’ll go along and take a look at that furniture you two have been raving about. I hope I can guess close to what it would be worth,” Jim said.
    “And I think I’ll ride with you, too,” Mart said, with a casual wave of his hand. “Might as well decide where to nail up these route arrows.” He indicated the small wooden slats, shaped like arrows, that he had been lettering. “Get an idea how many more to make.”
    “I’ll bring the lunch,” Di said demurely, “if I’m free in the morning.” She batted her eyelashes at Mart.
    “Gosh, that’s swell!” Mart beamed. “We’ll stop by for you,then.”
    “Let’s see, there’ll be six of us and Miss Rachel.” Brian counted on his fingers.
    “Six? You going, too?” Mart asked with a frown.
    “Why, of course, sonny boy! I may not know much about the price of antiques and where to put direction signposts, but I sure do love those chicken sandwiches Di’s cook makes!” Brian chuckled teasingly.
    But in the morning, as they saddled up at Honey’s and got ready to ride by Di’s, it looked as if the party might be increased by one.
    Gaye was there, looking very thin and tired but also very determined. She had Mr. Poo draped over her arm, as usual, and she was demanding that Regan saddle Lady for her so she could go with the others.
    “But, Miss Gaye” —Regan was being very gentle with her—“your aunt told me that you weren’t to ride anymore because it tired you too much.”
    Gaye stamped her foot angrily. “I don’t care! 1 want to go and see our friend Miss Rachel. She likes Mr. Poo and me to come to see her. She said so.”
    Trixie looked down at the angry little face and saw that Gaye was close to tears. Poor little thing! They had hardly had a glimpse of her all week. Impulsively, Trixie slid out of her saddle and went to her.
    “We’re only going to stay out there a little while,” she explained. “There’s something we have to arrange with Miss Rachel. This is a sort of business call.”
    Gaye looked sullen. Then she dashed away the tears with the back of her hand, and her thin little jaw set. “I know where you’re going! You’re going to go out there and dig up the gold that her great-grandpa hid. I know all about it!”
    Trixie was surprised. “Oh, come now, Gaye! There isn’t any such thing! Whoever said that is silly!”
    “That’s what you said about the pirate treasure. You always say that. And I don’t believe you! Mitzi, my maid, says that cook told her—” She stopped abruptly as Mart laughed; she turned her glare on him. “And you needn’t think you can fool me by laughing!” She turned and ran up the driveway and around the side of the garage.
    They all sat for a moment, staring after her, and then, as Trixie climbed into her saddle again, Jim said seriously, “What was that all about? I mean the pirate treasure thing. I know where the maid got the rest of the yarn.”
    “Why, on our way back from Miss Rachel’s the other day in the limousine, we happened to mention that old legend about the pirate loot that dopey people used to think was buried in the swamp. Gaye got all excited and said the oddest thing. Didn’t she, Honey?” Trixie turned to her friend.
    “That’s right. She said she wouldn’t be afraid to look for the pirate gold in the swamp and she was sure she and Mr. Poo could find it,” Honey explained.
    “That’s just the usual kid talk,” Brian chuckled. “What’s so odd about that?”
    “That wasn’t what I meant,” Trixie told them soberly. “It was what she said afterward. She said she’d dig up the gold and give it to her Aunt Della, and then she wouldn’t ever have to play her old violin again or go traveling all the time when she was tired!”
    “That was only kid stuff, too, Trix,” Mart told her.
    “No,” Trixie said. “After she said it, she put her face down on the puppy’s head, and I know she cried most of the way back to Honey’s.”
    “Tired out, poor kid,” Jim said, his green eyes darkening with sympathy. “That greedy aunt of hers....
    They rode on then, a bit gloomy and silent. But the gloom disappeared when they saw Miss Rachel’s happy face as they told her their plans for the next Saturday’s