The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

that’s what it was. I dropped my candle. It went out. I went nuts in the darkness. I hammered around till I found that hole I got stuck in. You know how it is without any light. I heard you when you put your lights out. What would you do? Bust things up?”
    “I hardly think so,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “but I might go crazy and not know what I was doing. Why did you come here? Bob-White Cave is our cave. And why did you decide to bring back my bait bucket that you stole?”
    “What bait bucket?” Slim asked, his dirt-encircled eyes darting around. Then, when he saw the bucket with the ghost fish, he got up, cursed, and fiercely kicked it over. The ghost fish and crayfish slithered toward the stream, but Trixie was quick enough to recapture them and give them fresh water.
    “That was a rotten, mean thing to do!” Jim said in a cold voice. “We can put you back in that crawl hole, fella. There are three of us.”
    “No, you won’t!” Slim cried. “I’d die!”
    “It’s about time you realized that.” Jim’s voice was stern. He pointed. “That way out! Start walking!”
    “And stay out of our cave!” Trixie added.
    Slim stopped at the exit and said contemptuously, “Whose cave? This cave belongs to anyone who wants to explore it. It’s state property.”
    “It’s our cave,” Trixie insisted. “It’s on property that belongs to my Uncle Andrew. He said we could call it our cave.”
    “You’d better talk to the law,” Slim said.
    “You’re a fine one to mention the law,” Trixie said angrily. “You’ll have some explaining to do to the sheriff about the fire that burned Mrs. Moore’s property. If anyone had been—”
    “I didn’t set that fire!” Slim said. “There ain’t nobody can prove I did. That guy in the ghost cabin did it. He ain’t no ghost. He don’t keep chickens in that chicken house of his’n. He keeps gasoline rags. If you don’t believe me, go and look—lessen you’re too scared,” he added insolently. “I ain’t afraid of you or the sheriff. I ain’t afraid of nobody.”
    Slim started through the passage to the exit in the other room. “And I can come into this cave anytime I want to,” he added. “When I signed up so’s I could get the reward for the fish, I was told that I could try and find them in any cave around here. What do you think of that?”
    “They meant if you had the owner’s permission,”
    Trixie said, “and you’ll never get permission to explore Bob-White Cave.”
    “Who needs permission?” Slim asked sarcastically and disappeared into the short crawlway.
    “Now I don’t know what to believe,” Mart said. “If there are gasoline rags at the ghost cabin, then—”
    “I’d have to see them to believe Slim,” Jim said. “We’ll tell your Uncle Andrew, and the sheriff will look into it. After last night, I’m not in favor of any more amateur sleuthing.”
    “Well, I am,” Trixie said, undaunted. “I’m not misled by Slim’s talk about the gasoline rags. Did you happen to hear what he said about registering? Do you suppose we have to register before we can qualify for the reward?”
    “It sure looks like it,” Brian said. “If we’d had any sense, we’d have found out all the facts from that man from the magazine the last time we were in White Hole Springs.”
    Trixie picked up the bait bucket and threw the nylon rope over her shoulder. “It’s just one more hurdle,” she said resignedly. “If we have to register, we have to register. I just hope we’re not too late.”
     

Wild-Goose Chase • 14
     
    AREN T YOU BACK pretty early?” Uncle Andrew asked. “Did you get discouraged? Give up?”
    “No!” they exploded in one voice. Then they told Uncle Andrew and Mrs. Moore what had happened.
    “It’s way past time that I talked to Sam Owens,” Uncle Andrew said. “I guess I underestimated Slim’s determination. I thought he’d be far away from here by now—scared of what the neighbors would do after that fire. Now he’s trying to throw the blame on someone else. I’ll have to go to town right away.”
    May we go, too, so we can register?” Trixie asked. “If Mrs. Moore says Linnie may take the mule wagon and drive us,” Uncle Andrew said.
    “Of course,” Mrs. Moore said. “More than that, I’ll go along as far as the Hawkinses’ cabin. Minnie Hawkins and I are piecing a quilt together.”
     
    “I just thought of something queer,” Trixie said as they bounced along in the wagon