The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

Charlene
said.
    “At
least the December cold kills the mosquitoes,” Bill said, swatting one that had
slipped through the screen. “No deerflies to bite the horses, either. Why, it’s
a paradise— if you like twenty below!”
    Soon
Pat excused himself and went to his room. Regan joined him.
    Trixie
suddenly realized that she was exhausted. “It seems strange to go to bed while
it’s still light out, but that’s what I’ll have to do.”
    “You’ve
had a long, exciting day,” Mrs. Murrow said sympathetically. “You’ll have two
weeks of long evenings to enjoy.”
    The
girls agreed and went to their room.
    A
few minutes later, Trixie was pulling on her nightgown. “We didn’t even get to
see the horses,” she said with a yawn.
    “Plenty
of time for that tomorrow,” Honey told her as she crawled into bed.
    Trixie
pulled up the covers and sat for a moment, her back against the headboard,
thinking over the day's events. Something drew her eye to the window, which was
almost even with the foot of the bed. Trixie looked and saw nothing at first.
Continuing to stare, she caught a glint of light bouncing off the sash.
    Quickly,
she tossed back the covers, got up, and went to the window. There was still
plenty of light, but it had a soft, flat quality to it. Trixie looked out over
the broad expanse of grass that was too big to be called a lawn. It ended with
a dense row of trees that ran as far as she could see in either direction. The
trees look like colored shadows in this light, Trixie thought. It’s spooky.
    Again,
something caught her eye. This time it was a flash of movement. She squinted,
trying to adjust her eyes to the eerie light. Finally, she made out the figure
of a horse and rider moving slowly and silently in a path parallel to the
trees.
    The
rider was wearing a straw hat, and his head was down, almost lolling on his
chest. The horse had his head down, too, his neck bobbing with each slow step
he took. Together the horse and rider had a mournful aspect, Trixie thought.
    Trixie
stared in fascination for a moment, then turned away
from the window. “Honey, come look,” she said softly.
    Honey
got up and shuffled over to the window. “Look at what?” she asked, blinking
sleepily as she stared out.
    “At that!” Trixie said, pointing to the spot where she’d seen
the horseman.
    But
there was no one in sight.



2 * An Explanation— and a Confrontation
     
    “What am I supposed to be looking at? Honey
asked. Her voice sounded small and befuddled.
    “There
was a horseman,” Trixie said, still pointing out the window. Where could he have
gone?”
    “Probably home to bed.” Honey headed back to her own bed.
    “But how?” Trixie demanded. “One minute he was there, and the
next minute he wasn’t. And he looked so sad and lonely and mysterious.”
    “Mysterious?”
Honey’s voice suddenly sounded a little less sleepy. She loved a good mystery
as much as Trixie did, and together the two girls had been involved in dozens
of cases. Then Honey’s mouth opened in an enormous yawn. “Oh, Trixie, I’m
sorry, but I’m just too beat to think about mysteries tonight. Maybe in the morning
we can try to find the ghost’s footprints. I mean hoofprints .
I mean the ghost’s horse’s footprints. Oh, you know what I mean. Good night.”
She turned over and pulled the blanket close around her, as if to ward off
further conversation.
    Trixie
kept staring out the window, but she saw no further sign of the ghostly horse
and rider. Nor did she see any more flashes of light. But there was a
horseman and a flash of light. I’m sure of it, she thought. We’ll have
to investigate. Then, yawning, she added, Starting first thing tomorrow. She shuffled back to bed and quickly fell into a
deep, dreamless sleep.
     
    The
next morning at breakfast, Trixie tried to think of a subtle way of mentioning
the mysterious horseman, but nothing came to her. She looked across the table
at Honey, hoping to convey the thought to her always-tactful friend. But Honey
had other things on her mind.
    “Will
we be going out to the stable?” Honey asked. “I really want to see your horses,
and see how you work with them.” Her glance went from Bill to Pat as she spoke,
and she ended her question looking the young man squarely in the eye.
    “You
can if you want,” Pat Murrow said. Then he lowered his head and concentrated on
his blueberry pancakes as if they might jump off his plate if not watched