The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

retorted.
    “It
wouldn’t be the same.”
    “Maybe
it would be better. You’re still young and romantic. You think nothing bad has
ever happened here, and nothing bad ever will. But that isn’t so. There’ll
always be problems here, just like anyplace.”
    “We
were both born here!”
    “Does
that mean we both have to die here?” There was a long pause as the other
speaker refrained from answering the unanswerable question. Finally, the
questioner continued in a softer, less angry voice. “Look, I’m not talking
about drawing up final papers tomorrow. I just want to see how much money Burke
has to offer. If it isn’t plenty, I’ll turn him down.”
    “Talk
to him, then. It’s your place. Nobody can stop you.” There was a sound of boots
stomping up stairs and a door slammed. Pat Murrow had obviously concluded the
conversation with his father.
    The
girls suddenly realized that they’d been eavesdropping. And now, they were in
danger of having Bill Murrow catch them at it. With one accord, they roused
themselves, rounded the corner of the stable—and almost collided with Gus, who
was rounding the same corner from the opposite direction.
    The
old man looked sad, his cheeks sunken and his mouth turned down. Without a word
to the girls, he hurried off.
    “Gus
must have overheard the fight, too,” Trixie said.
    “How
sad,” Honey said. “Bill and Pat must be almost like a son and grandson to him.”
    “It
must be painful for him to hear Bill talk about selling,” Trixie said. “He’s
been working on this ranch for over fifty years.”
    “It’s
Pat who’s upset. Yet Bill’s been here a lot longer than Pat,” Honey pointed
out. “True, but Bill doesn’t have to worry about
    being left behind if the ranch gets moved,” Trixie said.
    “Oh!”
Honey exclaimed, suddenly seeing her friend’s point. “Poor
Gus!”
    “We’d
better hurry up and get inside before anybody catches us out here, or it will
be poor us , ” Trixie said grimly. The two girls walked quickly to the house .



6 * Mysterious
Happenings
     
    “How can Bill even consider selling the ranch
to that creepy Burke?” Honey asked.
    The
girls were in their room, ready for bed. Until now, they’d both avoided talking
about the conversation they’d overheard.
    “With
a big housing development right next door, things won’t be the same anyway,”
Trixie pointed out. “Maybe this is the time to sell.”
    Honey
stared at her as if she’d just sprouted horns. “That’s a perfectly terrible
thing to say!” she exclaimed.
    Honey’s going to be on Pat’s side in this, no matter
what, Trixie thought. For the sake of friendship, we’d better make this topic off-limits. Aloud she said, “None of the Murrows have asked our
help in making the decision, anyway. I think we should concentrate on trying to
spot the Galloping Ghost. At least that’s a problem we’ve been invited to help
solve.”
    “Okay,”
Honey agreed readily. “But we can’t concentrate too hard. Remember, Wilhelmina
James told us that ghosts seldom appear on command.”
    “Well,
if we can’t think about the Murrows ’ plans to sell,
or about the Galloping Ghost, what can we think about?” Trixie demanded.
    “The Murrows ’ horse-training techniques, and how we could adapt them to our own horses back home,” Honey suggested.
    Trixie
nodded glumly. Three days ago that prospect had seemed fascinating. Now it
seemed pretty boring. “That’s about all that’s left,” she told Honey.
     
    The
next morning after breakfast, the girls trooped resolutely to the stable.
    “Are
you here to watch or work?” Bill Murrow asked.
    “Work,”
Trixie said firmly. She wanted to keep her hands and mind fully occupied.
    “Well,
then, get the combs and brushes. You know where they are,” Bill said.
    Trixie
and Honey went to the cabinet in the tack room and opened the door. The cabinet
was empty. Trixie blinked hard, as if expecting the grooming tools to appear.
When they didn’t, she looked around the room, wondering if she’d gotten the
wrong cabinet. But it was the only cabinet in the room. Honey was baffled, too,
and the girls went back into the stable.
    “We
can’t find the brushes,” Trixie told Bill.
    “Sure,”
he said, obviously not believing her.
    “We
can’t. They aren’t in the cabinet,” Honey said.
    “It’s
the old bucket-of-water trick, isn’t it?” Bill said.
    “Huh?”
Trixie was in the dark.
    “What?”
Honey was just as