The Marshland Mystery

supper!”
    “Reddy wouldn’t do such a thing!” Trixie snapped. But as she hurried after the two dogs, she wasn’t nearly as certain as she had pretended to be that the big red setter wouldn’t forget his manners and take a nip at the pesky yipper.
    She lost sight of the pair almost as soon as she entered the orchard, but she could still hear the poodle barking in the distance. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Reddy! Come back here!” Usually Reddy barked when he heard his name called, but this time there wasn’t a sound from him. And now the poodle had stopped its shrill barking, too.
    She could see where they had romped across last year’s damp leaves. There was a trail she could easily follow, and she lost no time taking it, calling as she went.
    Then, not far ahead, she heard Reddy’s bark. It was sharp. He barked the way he did when he had treed a porcupine or located a woodchuck hole. It was his hunting bark.
    Trixie broke into a run. She hoped Reddy hadn’t decided that the white poodle was something to be hunted!
    But when she came in sight of the big red dog, she saw how wrong she had been. He was standing between the tiny white poodle and something among the leaves at the foot of a tall tree.
    With a menacing growl and bared teeth, Reddy was moving slowly toward a coiled and hissing snake that was almost the color of the faded leaves.
    It was a deadly copperhead.
     

Small Genius ● 3
     
    TRIXIE KNEW THAT one blow from the deadly copperhead’s fangs on Reddy’s long nose would be fatal. Her dog was not trained to hunt snakes. He would approach to attack it head on, as he would a badger or a wildcat. The snake would strike before Reddy could seize it. “Reddy! Here, Reddy!” she yelled desperately.
    The big setter stopped his slow progress to glance back uncertainly at her. She called again, “Come!” as sharply as she could.
    Training took over then, and Reddy turned back toward his mistress. Among the dead leaves at the foot of the tree, the snake uncoiled and slithered away.
    “Good boy!” Trixie’s voice shook in spite of her efforts to keep it steady. Reddy’s long, plumed tail swung happily.
    But now the tiny poodle was starting toward the tree, his small black nose quivering with curiosity.
    “Mr. Poo!” Trixie let go of Reddy and made a dive for the poodle. She caught him up and held him safe, in spite of his wriggles. “We’re leaving right now, you two trouble hunters!” she told Reddy and the poodle. “Come on, Reddy. Big bone waiting!” She led them back through the orchard.
    As soon as she saw her father tonight, she thought, she’d be sure to tell him about the copperhead, and he and Brian could come out armed with heavy sticks and flush it out of the leaves. The reptiles were still sluggish and moved slowly, so it would not be far from here. There were several big boulders at the far end of the orchard, and very likely it had a den there. Every spring, a few of the snakes were seen around the farm, and every spring her father and the boys made a project of ridding the place of them. Since Bobby’s experience with a copperhead the summer before, she knew that they’d act quickly about this intruder.
    Trixie came hurriedly back to the edge of the orchard, with the poodle nestling contentedly in her arms and Reddy close at her heels.
    The reporter and the cameraman were just leaving in one of the cars. Miss Crandall called sharply after the young reporter, “I must approve all photographs before they are printed, Mr. Trent. Don’t forget.”
    “Sure thing, Miss Crandall. We’ll have them ready for your okay tomorrow.” He spoke to the driver, and they drove away.
    Miss Crandall had her niece firmly by the hand, and the governess was putting the violin away in its case.
    The little girl was rubbing her eyes and sobbing quietly as Trixie came up behind them. She looked forlorn and unhappy, and Trixie had an impulse to cheer her.
    “Hey, there! Here’s your puppy, Gaye!” she called. “Here’s Mr. Poo, all safe and happy.”
    Gaye looked quickly, dashing away her tears. Then she snatched her hand from her aunt’s and ran toward Trixie, exclaiming, “Give him to me! He’s mine!”
    Trixie snuggled her nose in the poodle’s topknot by way of farewell and then held him out to Gaye. “He’s a darling.”
    Gaye’s eyes flashed with jealousy and anger as she snatched the little animal from Trixie. “Let go of him! He doesn’t want to