The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

before her parents get home tomorrow.”
    “Hold it, Mart,” Trixie said. “If Harrison is really a thief, Di ought to call the police.”
    “She won’t do it,” Mart answered. “We’ve all tried to persuade her to talk to Sergeant Molin-son, but she doesn’t want to. She said it’s a family matter and she wants to keep it confidential.”
    “But that’s crazy!” Trixie cried.
    “No, it isn’t,” Honey said suddenly. “Don’t you see? She feels that Mr. Lynch, by trusting Harrison, has proved to be a poor judge of character. If that piece of news got out, what do you think everyone would say about Mr. Lynch? No, I don’t think Di’s crazy at all to try and keep it quiet. I’d do the same thing myself if our positions were reversed.”
    “You’re right,” Trixie said. “I just wasn’t thinking clearly. All right, Mart, let’s go and talk to Harrison.”
    “It’s not going to be that easy,” Mart said. “You see, Harrison’s skipped.”
    “Skipped?”
    “Skedaddled.Decamped. Absconded. In other words, he’s gone. And don’t ask me where, because I don’t know.”
    They began to hurry once more toward the clubhouse.
    “You know,” Mart said, “I still can’t quite believe it. Old Harrison! A thief! It just goes to show you.”
    “It just goes to show us what?” Trixie asked. Mart looked at them both solemnly. “Why, that the butler did it!” he said.

    Ten minutes later, the Bob-Whites had talked it over and decided on a course of action. They were going to take the horses and try to find Harrison, no matter where he might be.
    As they hurried toward the stables, Trixie had a weird feeling that events were about to repeat themselves all over again:
    She and Honey would ride through the woods. They’d end up at Sleepyside Hollow. They’d see an unfamiliar yellow bike propped against the front porch of a little house that smelled of lavender. In the cellar—
    She came to with a start as she realized that Di was saying to her, “Oh, Trixie, can you ever forgive me? I don’t want us ever to fight again. Friends?”
    Trixie hugged her. “Friends,” she agreed happily. “I don’t want us ever to fight again, either.”
    “I was so miserable,” Di confessed. “Now if we can only find Harrison....”
    “Are you sure he’s left for good?” Trixie asked. “When you got home this afternoon, did you look in his room? Did he take his clothes?”
    “I didn’t notice. Cook said he got another phone call this afternoon and he left immediately. For some reason, she thought the call came from the museum.”
    “Jeepers!” Trixie exclaimed. “Another mysterious phone call. This is getting weird. It’s just like last week, when Harrison first disappeared.” Di left them and hurried up the hill to her home. She was going to change quickly into her riding clothes, saddle her horse, and meet them, as before, at the Wheeler stables.
    Trixie looked down at her own old jeans. They might not be formal riding attire, but at least she was comfortable in them.
    The other Bob-Whites obviously felt the same way about their own clothes. No one else bothered to change.
    Besides Di, Dan was the only Bob-White who had to leave them for a short while. Soon he was back, seated astride the handsome old roan Spartan. Spartan, too, was a Wheeler horse, but he was stabled with the horse belonging to Mr. Maypenny, the Wheelers’ gamekeeper.
    Dan watched his friends hurrying to saddle their horses. “Everything all set?” he called cheerily.
    Regan grinned up at his nephew. “Now, you look after them all, Dan, my boy.”
    Mart smiled. “And don’t gallop through the woods.”
    “Watch out for loose stones,” Brian added, chuckling.
    “And trailing roots,” Honey said.
    “And things that go bump in the night,” Jim called. “Your turn, Trixie.”
    But Trixie was off in a daydream. She was frowning as she tightened Susie’s girth strap. “I was just wondering,” she said slowly, “where we should start looking.”
    “We already discussed that,” Mart said, leading Strawberry out of his stall. “I thought we decided to go straight to Sleepyside Hollow.”
    “I know,” Trixie answered, “but I keep on trying to remember something—something very important.”
    She still hadn’t thought of it when Di, riding Sunny, cantered into the stable yard. Soon all the Bob-Whites were riding easily across the broad meadow.
    Suddenly Trixie called, “Oh, stop! Please, stop!”
    The horses