The Mystery of the Castaway Children

some kind of chicanery connected with the Dodge auction.
    “Some people are greedy,” Peter Belden conceded. “A dummy bidder might raise the honest bid. The seller might get someone to bid in on something that wasn’t selling for enough. Stolen goods may be sold. A lot of things can happen. Still, our laws do a pretty good job of keeping auction cheating under control.”
    “Suppose...” Trixie’s voice trembled with the weight of a brand-new idea, the way a branch trembles when a bird drops down to rest.
    “When you begin to suppose, Trixie, anything can happen,” her father sighed.
    “Just suppose,” Trixie persisted, “there’s somebody connected with the auction who does get greedy. He knows just about how much money the family’s goods can be sold for, so he decides to kidnap their children and ask for that exact amount of money.”
    “Then what?” prompted Mr. Belden.
    “I—I don’t know what happens next,” Trixie admitted. “Dad, did the sergeant say when the ransom money was to be delivered?”
    “The note said Saturday night at nine o’clock.”
    “Tomorrow night?” Trixie wailed. “Yipes! That gives us just one day to—”
    Her father interrupted. “In your hypothetical case, I suppose you realize that the logical persons to suspect are the clerks. Now, you know you can’t go around making charges without proof. If the clerks are innocent, they can sue you. If they’re guilty, you put yourself in danger along with those hypothetical children.” Peter Belden became more serious by the second. “I strongly advise you to call Molinson if that brain of yours is cooking up a plan to see those clerks.’ Then he leaned forward and captured both her hands. “Trixie, where did you get this great lump of curiosity that keeps all of us in hot water?”
    “Same place Brian and Mart got theirs about medicine and agriculture, I guess.”
    Her father sighed. “But their interests don’t keep getting them in trouble.”
    Trixie said good night and went inside, her head whirling with all the new information. She paused in the kitchen doorway.
    Her mother wrapped a large bowl of dough with a linen towel and said, “Penny for your thoughts, dear.”
    “Oh, Moms, I just this minute realized how awful it will be to give up Dodgy.” Trixie’s voice came out weak and lonely, like the wail of a lost child. She decided to stop in the guest room to kiss Dodgy good night. An instant later, she came darting back to the kitchen.
    “Moms, where is he?” she gasped. “His basket is gone!”

Smitty’s T-Shirt • 11

    RELAX, TRIXIE,” her mother admonished. “Eileen felt that she had to go home for the weekend in case her house is being watched. So we drove her there, and she left Dodgy in our care. Brian took the basket to his room for the night.”
    “Brian has to get up early to work in the fields tomorrow,” Trixie recalled. “He needs his sleep. I’ll take Dodgy to my room.”
    Mrs. Belden disagreed. “Brian can afford to miss sleep once in a while. If he wants to share this night with a sleeping baby, let him. That’s part of his growing up. Someday a child who is desperately ill may live because Brian Belden learned to put a baby’s comfort ahead of his own.”
    Trixie heard tears as well as pride in her mother’s voice. “Brian’s growing up too fast already!” she stormed. “So’s everybody!” She whirled around and went upstairs to her own room.
    Change. She didn’t mind it, except when it adversely affected people and places she loved. Because she had learned to love Dodgy, she had to get his family reunited. He must grow up with the same kind of family love that she knew. But how could she do all that in one day?
    “I must!” she muttered fiercely.
    She was already into her pajamas before she decided that her father was right about calling Sergeant Molinson. After she’d dialed the number on the hall phone, she anticipated the sergeant’s reaction.
    Sure enough, he was impatient. “This better be important. I’m at work, you know.”
    “So am I,” retorted Trixie. “I have more clues about Davy.”
    “Okay,” he barked. “By the way, the lab tests proved that Davy handled that baby bottle. Of course, we had to separate his prints from some I’m sure were yours. Next time, use gloves. All right, fire away.”
    Trixie, thankful that he wasn’t there to see her flushed cheeks, gave him a detailed report of the clues they’d found. She hesitated, then