The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

Uncle Andrew told them all he knew of the tragic affair. “The mayor of Wagon Trail,” he said, “a little town south of Springfield, sent Mrs. Moore her husband’s knapsack. With it was a letter saying that her husband’s body had been found at the foot of a cliff, where, quite evidently, he had fallen to his death.”
    “How sad!” Trixie said. “It must have been dreadful if they had to bring his body here in that mule wagon.”
    “They couldn’t bring his body home to be buried,” Uncle Andrew explained, “because they had great difficulty in contacting Mrs. Moore. They did the best they could; they buried Matthew near where he had fallen. When Mrs. Moore received the letter and the knapsack, her husband had been dead for more than a month.”
    “What did she do?” Trixie asked.
    “Here in the Ozark hills, people have learned to accept death stoically; when it happens, the family just goes on living. Mrs. Moore had to support herself and her child somehow. She gathered ginseng and other herbs in the woods and sent them with a neighbor to White Hole Springs, to be sent to city drugstores. She wove baskets, made pottery, and made dewberry and blackberry preserves. She carried her products by muleback, then sat patiently all day long by the roadside, hoping to sell them to passing tourists.
    “She gathered wood and split it to keep Linnie and herself warm in winter. She canned vegetables and wild fruits. She shot squirrels and rabbits and canned some of them for winter use. She even managed to buy Martha, the cow, and Shem and Japheth, the mules. Things are a little easier for her now, since I was fortunate enough to employ her as a housekeeper.”
     
    The Bob-Whites quickly consumed the sandwiches Mrs. Moore had made, plus a big bowl of garden lettuce mixed with wild poke greens. There were little onions and radishes from Mrs. Moore’s kitchen garden.
    “Moms has lettuce and radishes in her garden at home,” Trixie told Mrs. Moore. “Brian and Mart planted it for her, and they help her hoe and water it.” Mrs. Moore seemed surprised. “Then you all have chores to do at home. Do you hear that, Linnie?”
    “I’ll say we do,” Mart said. “Plenty of them, the year round. Trixie helps Moms a lot by taking care of our little brother, Bobby, and with dusting—her favorite chore. Brian and I have the really hard work to do, though, shoveling snow, working in the garden, and carrying in wood. Jeepers, we get the tough end of it, huh, Brian?”
    “We have all the time we want for Bob-White work and basketball and baseball practice and skating,” Brian answered. “You know that, Mart.”
    “Sleepyside sounds like a wonderful place to live,” Linnie said, “especially your place, Crabapple Farm, and the Manor House, where Honey lives. I looked on the map in my geography. You’re hundreds of miles from here when you’re home. I’ve never been farther away than White Hole Springs. I wish I could fly in an airplane someday. That would be something fine. Did your mother teach you to sew, Honey?”
    They all laughed at this question. Mr. Wheeler was a millionaire, and Mrs. Wheeler had servants to do everything for her. She enjoyed a busy social life far more than doing any work around her home.
    “I learned to sew at boarding school,” Honey explained. “I love it. I made these jackets we wear.”
    “They’re beautiful, with your club name embroidered on the back and all. I can sew, too. From pictures I’ve seen in magazines Mr. Belden’s friends have brought, and from the curtains you’ve made for the lodge, I know our cabin could be a lot prettier than it is. I wish I knew how to fix it up so it wouldn’t look like all the rest of the cabins around here.”
    “It’s clean and comfortable,” Mrs. Moore said quickly. “What money it would take to change it, we’ve had to save for your education.”
    Trixie’s generous heart was touched by the longing in Linnie’s eyes. “If you want us to,” she said, “we can show you how to make things for your house, and they’ll cost hardly a thing. The boys’ll help, too. They’re handy at fixing houses. You should see what they did to our clubhouse back home. The next time it rains, that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
    Linnie’s face shone. “I may not have to wait very long. I don’t think the rain’s over yet.”
    “Gosh, then let’s get going,” Mart said. “I’ve got to give this reel a workout. Thanks for such a good