The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

never find a ghost fish or any more rocks,” Honey said, shaking with fright.
    She had been right at Trixie’s side during most of her dangerous adventures, and she had promised to be a partner in the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency, but she wasn’t as fearless as Trixie, and she didn’t pretend to be. “You take too many chances. One of these days you’ll go too far, Trixie Belden. Do you think the storm could possibly be over? All those bones scare me, and I’m afraid of the wind outside.”
    “Bones can’t hurt you, Honey. Don’t be afraid,” Trixie said reassuringly. “I think the storm may be over. I’ll slip outside and see.”
    A few feet from the cave, Trixie stood looking about her. At her side, Jacob suddenly lifted his head and stiffened. Trixie followed his eyes to the undergrowth above the cave opening. There, among the leaves, was a terrifying feline face, with long, gleaming teeth bared, ready to slash. Jacob braced his thin body and snarled. The wildcat growled its answer, its ears laid back menacingly.
    Paralyzed with fear, Trixie tried to call out, but no sound came from her throat. The animal slunk closer. Jacob, with every hair on end, barked fiercely. The wildcat poised to spring. A convulsive trembling shook Trixie’s body as, unable to make a sound, she awaited the wildcat’s attack.
    The smoothly muscled body hurtled toward the helpless girl—and a rifle shot rang out! The wildcat dropped to the ground, shot through the head, the wound clean and deadly.
    Trixie, immediately released from her spell, screamed. Jacob circled her, barking. The other Bob-Whites spilled from the cavern and were horrified at what they saw. Honey, tears streaming down her face, clung to Trixie. White-faced, appalled, and silent, the boys stood before the big cat’s body.
    “Who shot it?” Jim asked.
    Trixie shook her head. She didn’t know.
    “Hello there!” Jim shouted. His echoing voice was the only answer.
    Her brothers’ concern took the form of anger. “I could beat my head against the rocks for not realizing what might happen!” Brian said.
    “Yeah,” Mart agreed, “me, too. Look at that dog!”
    Jacob sniffed the air, wagged his tail, then made off across the woods.
    Trixie, somewhat recovered from her fright, lifted her head. A whiff of tobacco smoke drifted through the rain-washed air. “The person who saved me must be someplace close,” she said. “Did you smell that tobacco?”
    “Nope,” Brian said and jumped to the ground from the cliffside where he’d been hunting through the brush. “Not a sign of anyone, not even Jacob.” He shook his head, perplexed. “Why would anyone save another person’s life and then just disappear? It beats me!”
    “Thank heaven for his rifle!” Jim said.
    Mart looked thoughtfully at the wildcat’s stiffening legs. “The mystery deepens. There must be a big bounty on one of these skins. That alone should make whoever shot it come forward and claim the hide. How does he know we won’t drag it off to get the bounty?”
    “I don’t know the answer to any of your questions,” Honey replied, her arm still around Trixie. “I know one thing, though: I want to get back to the lodge as soon as we possibly can. Trixie has had a frightful shock. We have, too. Our clothes are soaked, and that wind is like ice.”
    “You’re right,” Brian agreed. He whistled for Jacob, who came running, his tail erect and waving. “Home!” Brian commanded. Jacob set off through the woods, baying lustily. Far south, another coonhound answered mournfully. Then another took up the cry.
    “We can’t go through that underbrush where Jacob went,” Brian said, “but my compass says we’re at least headed in the right direction. Try and find a path.”
    “Isn’t that the way we came down?” Trixie asked, pointing to a stony, overgrown trail a few feet above them.
    “It is! Smart girl, Trixie!” Jim said. “Well, we’ll have quite a tale to tell your Uncle Andrew when he comes home tonight. Gosh!”
    We won’t be able to tell him we found the ghost fish that editor wants,” Trixie said sadly. “We’ve just got to go after those fish first thing in the morning!”
     

Ghosts, Ghosts, Ghosts! • 3
     
    MRS. MOORE was waiting at the lodge door when the Bob-Whites returned.
    “My, but I’m glad to see you!” she said. “It was a bad storm. I worried, even though Linnie said I needn’t. She was sure you’d find shelter. I know, though, how