The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

her! Trixie thought in panic. She began veering toward the
river side of each tree she had to cut around. Soon she was in unfamiliar
territory, but she didn’t dare slow down more than a fraction.
    Then
all was quiet. What if I lost Honey! she thought fearfully, her breath suddenly coming
harder. The thought distracted Trixie from the unfamiliar path ahead of her, across
which a winding loop of river suddenly cut its way.
    When
Trixie saw what was happening, it was too late. Her foot came down on dried mud
that crumbled away, bounding down the bank and landing in the water with a
splash.
    In
the next instant, Trixie, too, was tumbling down the riverbank.



12 * A Lifeline
     
    Trixie plunged into the icy river,
and sank down and down. It took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from
struggling. I’ll just get myself disoriented, she reminded herself. The thing
to do is relax. Eventually, I’ll float to the surface. It was a lesson she’d
been taught over and over by Jim, Brian, and Mart.
    Seconds
later, she felt the top of her head break through the surface of the water. She
raised her head and took huge gulps of fresh, cool air. In between, she forced
herself to exhale completely. She knew that it was as important to get the bad
air out as it was to get the good air in.
    Nearby,
she heard thrashing through the brush, a stifled scream and, seconds later, a
splash.
    “Honey!” Trixie tried to shout the name, but it came out as a
weak gasp. As she tried to swim in the direction from which the splash had
come, she became aware, for the first time, of the river’s strong current. It’s no use, she thought. Swimming would just wear me out, without
getting me anywhere.
    She
had to relax and let the current take her, hoping that she wouldn’t encounter
an undertow that would suck her down and not let her come up. If she was lucky,
she’d soon come to a bend in the river and the current would push her toward
the bank.
    She
peered ahead, trying to see the outline of the riverbank. It was almost fully
dark now, and the edge of the black water was almost impossible to distinguish
from the shore. She felt a force tugging at her leg and she almost screamed,
until she realized that it was a weed, not the undertow she so dreaded.
    Suddenly,
she saw the bank ahead. I’m in luck! she thought. Now I only hope there’ll be something along the shore to grab on to—and
that I’ll still have the strength to hang on.
    Trixie
shook her head to clear the water from her eyes and the cobwebs from her brain.
She grabbed at a branch as she went past—and missed! She reached back and
caught it with one hand. Slowly, painfully, she pulled herself back against the
current. Triumphantly, she got a second hand around the branch. She moved hand
over hand for a couple of feet. Now she was out of the water from the waist up.
But the current against her hips and legs felt stronger than ever. The night
air, warm at first, soon felt even colder than the water.
    Panting,
Trixie held on to the branch with both hands. She wanted to wait until her
strength returned, but she knew it wouldn’t. She’d only get colder and weaker, the
longer she waited.
    She
looked up to the top of the bank, still at least four feet above her head. She
blinked, then squinted as she thought she saw a face.
    “Gus!”
she said aloud.
    The
old horseman was peering down at her. He didn’t speak. He gave a slow nod of
encouragement. Then he held out a gnarled old hand.
    Trixie
let go of the branch with one hand and reached up, searching for Gus’s hand.
She felt the rough fingers and closed her hand around them. She took a deep
breath, then pulled with all her might.
    She
felt herself rising through the air. Confident now of Gus’s grasp, she let go
of the branch with her other hand and found tufts of grass and weeds to help
her on her way up.
    Finally,
she was on the top of the bank. She lay on her stomach in the forest’s carpet
of dead leaves and dry needles. Then everything went black.
    When
she regained consciousness, she said, “I’m sorry, Gus, I—” She sat up and broke
off as she realized that the old man was nowhere in sight.
    “Honey!”
she exclaimed. “He must have gone to help Honey!” With worry giving her a new
source of strength, she got to her feet.
    “Trixie!” The voice, hoarse and breathless, came from the
direction of the river.
    Trixie
crawled to the edge of the bank and peered over. Honey was clinging to the same
branch that