The Mystery at Mead's Mountain

and we really should check out any possibility of emergency shelter for lost skiers.”
    “You have a point,” Jim conceded. “And I know Trixie will make us miserable until she gets back to that cabin. I’ll go with you so you don’t get lost or something.”
    “Don’t bother,” said Trixie defiantly. “We can take care of ourselves. We won’t get lost, but if, by some remote chance, we do, we have our survival kits and know how to use them. Come on, Honey.”
    As they skied off down the hidden trail, Honey said wistfully, “I wouldn’t have minded if Jim had come along, Trixie. He’s been a big help to us more than once.”
    “Oh, I know,” answered Trixie, biting her lip. “I’ve just got to learn to control my temper.”
    “Do you think there’s any easier way to get to that cabin besides climbing up that steep gully?” asked Honey, without much hope.
    “I’ve been thinking about that,” replied Trixie. “That gully looked to me like it’s probably just a trench with a beginning and an end. I remember seeing a smaller path that forked off to the right down the trail a bit. Maybe it leads to the other side of that trench and to the cabin.”
    Sure enough, before too long they caught sight of the cabin on their side of the gully. They skied for a while until they reached a large pine tree. Triumphantly, Trixie pointed out the smoke wisping out of the chimney. She could even see ski tracks leading to the door of the old structure.
    “Now what?” asked Honey, starting to tremble a bit. “Someone is obviously there. Maybe someone is even living there!”
    “Now we just go knock on the door,” decided Trixie, showing far more courage than she felt. She skied up to the front door and rapped boldly on it before Honey could protest.
    The door was thrown open by a spry old man with a shock of long white hair. A stern frown lined his face, and his red bulky knit sweater made his cold blue eyes seem even colder. His obvious displeasure made Trixie uneasy.
    “Who are you,” he demanded, towering over her, “and what are you doing here?”
    Trixie gulped. Not until that very moment did it dawn on her that she’d prepared absolutely nothing to say. She had acted again without thinking things through.
    Nervous though she was, Honey managed to come to the rescue. “I—I’m Honey Wheeler, and this is Trixie Belden,” she stammered, “and we’re out skiing, and, well, we wondered if we might have a drink of water.”
    This request seemed to enrage the old man even more than their presence did. He grabbed a ski pole and brandished it at the girls.
    “This is private property,” he hissed, “and I don’t ever—I mean ever—want to see you here again. Now, beat it!” The door slammed in their faces.
    Trixie and Honey were too stunned to do anything but obey. After herringboning as rapidly as they could back up the gully, they skied until they were well out of sight of the cabin before stopping under a tree to rest.
    “Was I glad when you asked for a drink!” exclaimed Trixie gratefully. “I couldn’t think of a thing to say, except to ask him who he was and what he was doing there.”
    Honey had to giggle. “I don’t think that would have gone over very well, Trixie.”
    Trixie smiled sheepishly and got a small can of orange juice out of her knapsack. “Well, at least we’ve solved the mystery of the long-haired ‘ghost’ that people have seen. There really is an old man living in the mountains. So that’s who I saw the first night on our way here. What a grouch!”
    “That must be why Eric told us to stay away,” Honey speculated. “He knew we’d disturb him and make him angry.”
    Trixie seized Honey’s arm. “Gleeps, Honey! That’s the voice! I’m sure of it!”
    “Huh? What voice?”
    “The one Eric was talking with last night!”
    “Are you sure, Trixie? This seems like an odd place for someone to live who’s in a burglary ring. So far from anywhere.”
    “I’m positive,” said her friend, finishing up her juice quickly. “Something funny is going on in that cabin. Listen, if you lived in the mountains this far away from people, wouldn’t it be because you loved the mountains?”
    “I suppose so.”
    “Then—would you keep all the curtains shut on such a beautiful day?”
    “You’re kidding! They were shut?”
    “They sure were, and did you notice that funny smell?”
    “Yes, now that you mention it. What was it?” asked Honey.
    Trixie frowned, her