The Mystery in Arizona

just happened to mention that it was Uncle Monty’s birthday, when we were saddling up for a ride this afternoon. She didn’t know it herself until she got a letter from her mother today. Howie—he’s really a great guy, Trix, when you get to know him— promptly cooked up the idea of a piñata. Uncle Monty will get first crack at swatting that calf, and, of course, being paper, it’ll break immediately.”
    “What’s in it?” Trixie asked curiously.
    “Oh, just a lot of junk from the ten-cent stores,” Jim said. “Little plastic horses and cows and cowboys and Indians which Petey will fall heir to, of course. It’s the spirit of the thing and I—” He stopped suddenly. “Oh, look at Maria! Something awful must have happened.”
    Trixie whirled around to face the door which opened onto the west patio. Maria had just come in, and she was wringing her hands and sobbing. As
    they hurried over to her, Trixie heard her cry out: “Petey—he’s gone! I tucked him into bed after supper but when I went back a minute ago to see if he was all right, he was gone!”

Petey Tries Again • 18

    FROM THEN ON, it seemed to Trixie as though she were living in a western movie. Several of the cowboys immediately hurried off to saddle their horses and ride across the desert in search of the missing boy. Another group, convinced that Petey must have wandered off down the driveway, raced off to their cars.
    An hour later these “posses” returned to report that they had found no trace of the child. Then Trixie remembered what Bobby had done when he had run away from home. He had got no farther than the red trailer, which was parked in the woods behind the Wheelers’ mansion.
    Impulsively she reached out and touched Howie’s hand. “Did you search the bunkhouses?”
    The gruff foreman glared at her and then grinned. “Nobody s been there since the square dance began. It would be the ideal hideout” He hurried off, his spurs jingling, and in no time at all returned with a very sleepy Petey in his arms.
    Maria gathered him close to her. “I never would have thought to look there for him,” she breathed. “Mi vida. Mi vida”
    “Trixie’s a smart kid,” Howie said to Uncle Monty. After Maria had led the little boy away, he added, “Much ado about nothing. What on earth made Maria think Petey would run away?”
    Trixie said nothing, but she thought she knew what had happened. Petey must have started out with the idea of saddling a pony but soon discovered that even the lightest saddle was too heavy for him to budge. Finally, exhausted by his efforts, he had fallen asleep in one of the bunks.
    The orchestra was playing ‘‘Turkey in the Straw” now, and everyone began to dance again just as though there had been no interruption. At midnight the tune changed suddenly to “Happy Birthday.” Uncle Monty was blindfolded and provided with a poker.
    “Hit the little dogie—hit it” the crowd chanted. And hit he did! Gaily wrapped gifts showered down upon him as the piñata burst By that time everyone was laughing and shouting so loudly that Trixie wondered why Miss Girard didn’t object. Then she realized that the two nurses, as well as their patients, were there, laughing as loudly as the others when Uncle Monty opened his presents.
    After that they trooped into the dining room for lunch, which consisted of an enormous birthday cake and gallons of ice cream.
    When he blew out the candles, assisted by everyone who was near enough to help, Uncle Monty made a little speech.
    “It’s the best birthday I ever had,” he said, “because it really was a surprise. And it’s given me an idea. On Christmas Eve, instead of the usual grab bag, we’ll have a piñata. I’ll have one made in the shape of a reindeer. Maybe all of you would like to help me fill it with small gifts.”
    His next words were drowned out by the guests’ enthusiasm.
    “Oh, yes! What fun!”
    “A grand idea!”
    Uncle Monty continued. “We’ll have a tree, of course, and I hope you’ll all take part in the trimming of it. We’ll want help with decorating the house, too, but out here we use pyracantha instead of holly. Many of you will attend the Pyracantha Festival on Saturday night at Armory Park. You’ll see that pyracantha is very similar to holly. The leaves are smaller, but the berries are just as bright.”
    Everyone began to talk at once, and Uncle Monty was forced to rap on the table with the miniature quirt he had received