The Mystery at Mead's Mountain

crisscrossing the mountainside on crooked trails and through open fields. Near noon, they came to a small clearing on the edge of a gentle cliff. Before them stretched a panoramic view of the entire valley.
    Honey gazed down in appreciation. “It’s places like this that make you realize that this world is certainly a beautiful place to live,” she sighed.
    “At the risk of disturbing your pastoral reverie,” Mart said, “might I add that this looks like the perfect place for lunch?”
    “We’ve earned it,” agreed Jim. “This cross-country skiing is hard work. I’m glad we all keep in good' shape.” He dropped down to the ground, looking like he was in anything but good shape.
    As Honey and Brian started getting out the fried chicken and fruit, Di took a small sketch pad out of her pack. “I have to have twenty-five good sketches for my art class by the end of the semester,” she said. “Trixie, may I sketch you staring out into the valley?”
    “Sure, how’s this?” Trixie puffed out her cheeks and stood on one leg, stretching her other leg and arms straight out.
    “I think it’s stunning,” Di said wryly, “but I doubt Mr. Crider would agree. Just keep on sitting on that rock and looking out into the valley as you were. I like that profile view. I’ll be done in just a couple of minutes.”
    Jim came over to watch while Di made quick, precise strokes. “How’s Mr. Crider as a teacher, Di? I’m thinking of taking art appreciation from him next semester.”
    “I like him a lot. He's a good teacher and really knows his stuff. If you do take it, you won’t be bored.”
    “You seem to know your stuff, too. You’re really quite good.”
    “Thank you, Jim, but I’m not that good,” said Di with a pleased smile. “I do enjoy art, though, and I’m thinking of majoring in it at college. That is, if I can ever get out of high school!”
    Jim grinned. “You’ll do fine, Di. You’re much smarter than you think you are.”
    Trixie, trying to sit still for Di, caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. “Honey!” she croaked. “Look down there! Isn’t that Mr. Moonshine —skiing out of control?”
    Below them, the old man twisted frantically through the trees, heading at an alarming speed for the bottom of the hill.

An Accident—and a Warning • 12

    HELOOKS LIKE a movie that’s been speeded up,” Honey fretted.
    “He’s either training for the Olympics or else he’s missing all those trees by pure chance,” said Trixie.
    The old man’s luck ran out when he tried to swerve around a large birch. His skis slid over to the side, and he tumbled head first into the tree.
    Honey screamed, and Trixie yelled for the other Bob-Whites. Seeing the still heap Trixie was pointing to, Jim and Brian quickly reached for the first aid kit and started climbing straight down. Trixie was already slipping and sliding down to the old man. Honey, Di, and Mart came straggling along behind Jim and Brian.
    Although the sight of blood normally didn’t bother Trixie that much, she felt her stomach turning queasy. The man was lifelessly wrapped around the tree, sticky redness oozing from his head into the clean white snow.
    Brian came up and immediately dug into the kit for some sterile bandages to cover the cut. Then he applied pressure to stop the bleeding.
    “Oh, Brian, is he... is he alive?” asked Trixie in a quavering voice.
    “Very much so,” said Brian. “It’s probably not as bad as it looks. It’s a head wound, which always bleeds a lot even when it isn’t very deep.”
    The old man moaned.
    “Don’t move,” warned Brian. “Where does it hurt?”
    “My head,” he muttered, so faintly Brian could barely hear.
    “Anywhere else?” Brian asked as he felt for broken bones.
    “No... I don’t think so,” said the man haltingly.
    “I don’t think there are any internal injuries,” Brian reported.
    Trixie and Jim had spread their windbreakers out on the snow, and together they all carefully laid the old man on them. Then the others took off their windbreakers and sweaters to wrap around him. “We should keep him as warm as possible so he doesn’t go into shock,” said Jim.
    “That may not be easy in this snow,” said Brian, gently wiping the blood off the man’s face.
    “Should I get the windproof blankets in our survival kits?” Honey asked. “And maybe something warm to eat?”
    Everyone looked at her in astonishment. “Honey, you sure can keep your head in an