The Mystery at Mead's Mountain

it even more special.
    Presently, Jim said softly, “Shall we pick out our ski trail now?”
    “Gee,” Brian said, “I feel almost like an intruder.”
    “What say we intrude upon our snacks first?” pleaded Mart. “They must be getting lonely in our knapsacks.”
    The others, laughing, agreed that some nourishment was in order and got out the snacks the boys had packed earlier.
    Afterward, Trixie stood up and looked around. She was ready for adventure. The thrill of exploring the unknown was coursing through her veins. “Let’s take this trail,” she said, pointing left. “It stays on top of the crest and winds through the trees.”
    “But didn’t Eric say to take one of the trails to the right?” Di asked.
    “Yes,” recalled Trixie, “but which way is right? If you face the lodge, it’s this way. But if you face the valley between us and those peaks, it’s that way.”
    “I don’t know what he meant either,” said Honey. “What should we do?”
    “I think Robert Frost could answer that question for us,” said Mart.
    “Huh?” Di looked blank.
    “ ‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,’ ” he quoted.
    “ ‘And that has made all the difference,’ ” Trixie finished.
    “Isn’t that from ‘The Road Not Taken’? Since when did you become the poetry expert, Trixie?” Jim teased.
    “I’m not,” she admitted. “I just remember Dad reading the stuff to us when we were little, instead of bedtime stories.”
    “Well, none of these trails look traveled by to me,” said Di, confused.
    “How about this one?” Jim said. He glided over to a trail smaller and less noticeable than the others.
    “Perfect!” Trixie was delighted. “That looks like our very own secret hidden trail!”
    “It won’t be too secret after our ski tracks are left behind,” Mart pointed out, getting ready to follow Jim.
    “It looks fun, though,” said Brian. “I guess Eric isn’t such a sadistic guide, after all.”
    “He certainly is very good-looking,” Di sighed.
    “You would think so,” said Mart jealously. Pointing" to his short blond hair, he muttered to Brian and Jim, “Maybe I should grow wild curls myself. They seem to drive the ladies mad.”
    “Don’t you dare!” cried Di. “We like you just the way you are. You’re a real individual, Mart.”
    “Good-bye, wild curls—hello, Di,” Mart said happily. “Anyway, curls would cause too much of a resemblance to my beloved sibling Beatrix, which would be a catastrophe. Speaking of which”—he turned to Trixie—“I saw you eyeing Eric before the ski lesson, and you had that schoolgirl shamus look on your face. What’s up?”
    “I don’t know, dear twin,” answered Trixie, tossing her own sandy curls. “I’d ask your advice if you were good for anything but getting haircuts. Eric seems awfully nice, but there’s just something about him....”
    “I thought it was sweet, the way he was worrying about his mother just because she got called away on business and didn’t have time to phone him personally,” said Honey, brushing the snow off her pants.
    Trixie didn’t say anything more as they set off along the small knolls on the top of the mountain ridge. As she slid into the easy rhythm of skiing, she was too fascinated with exploring this hidden trail to think any more about Eric. She was content to enjoy being part of the beauty and stillness of nature. She felt that she fully understood what cross-country skiing was all about.
    The others seemed to share her feeling, and they skied along in silence for quite some time, as though the sound of their voices might knock the snow from off the branches.
    Eventually Honey remarked, “I feel just like Lewis or Clark, setting off to chart lands far away from civilization. It’s all so gorgeous and quiet. It’s as though we’re the only people in the world.”
    “It certainly seems that way,” agreed Trixie, “but look way over on the side of that hill across the gully.” She pointed with her ski pole. “There’s a little house hidden in the trees.”
    The group halted in their tracks. “I see it,” said Brian. “It’s probably a way station or survival cabin, or maybe even a ski patrol hut.”
    “I doubt it,” said Jim. “There wouldn’t be enough people traveling through here to make use of those things. It could be a mountain man’s abandoned cabin.”
    “You guys have no imagination,” Mart said mischievously. “It’s