The Mystery of the Phantom Grashopper

pawing the ground, impatient and restless.
    There was no name above the sixth stall. The young people were surprised to see Regan stop at the door of the stall.
    “What’s up?” Trixie whispered to Honey.
    “I don’t know,” Honey said, as puzzled and surprised as Trixie.
    Regan’s green eyes twinkled brightly. With a great flourish, he threw open the door to the sixth stall.
    A small Shetland pony stood there, looking out at them with soft, doleful eyes. A little boy dressed in a scarlet riding coat was standing beside the pony, holding the reins.
    “Bobby!” Trixie exclaimed.
    Her six-year-old brother straightened his jacket and led the pony out to the middle of the floor. In a serious tone, he said, “Trixie... everybody... meet Mr. Pony.” Then he smiled. “It was a secret, and I never told anybody —cept Moms and Dad,” he crowed.
    Regan grinned. “I’ve been training this pony for a friend of your father’s, Honey,” he said. “And I needed a small rider to help me. So I taught Bobby to ride.”
    Bobby nodded vigorously. “Wait till you see how good he taught me to ride!” he shouted. Impatient to show off, he wiggled out of his riding coat and handed it to Trixie. “Help me up, please, Regan,” he said.
    Outside in the big pasture, Bobby rode Mr. Pony around and around. He sat straight and tall in the saddle and held the reins with a firm hand. The
    Bob-Whites leaned against the fence to watch.
    “Look at him,” Brian whispered. “Bobby rides like a pro.”
    Honey was impressed. “He’s a natural,” she said in agreement.
    “Well...” Trixie said with a shrug, “I guess he gets his talent from me.”
    Mart reached over and patted Trixie’s head. “My sister, the modest one,” he said. “Not an ostentatious ossicle in her whole body.”
    “Oh, go chew on a dictionary,” Trixie retorted with a good-natured snicker.
    “Okay, you kids,” Regan called. “Time for the rest of you to go to work.”
    He led the horses out from the stable. Bobby sat and watched the Bob-Whites mount their horses and get ready to ride. Trixie could tell by the expression on Bobby’s face that he wanted to ride with the “big lads.”
    Trixie didn’t want to hold the others up. “You go ahead,” she told them. “I’m going to walk Susie down into the woods so Bobby and I can go riding together.”

    While riding through the woods, with Bobby beside her on Mr. Pony, Trixie decided that the Wheeler preserve was at its best in October. The sweet scent of pine filled the air, and the bright-colored leaves of the maples and chestnuts growing among the evergreens rustled in the breeze. Trixie watched carefully for rabbits or raccoon but spotted only bushy-tailed gray squirrels scampering about in search of nuts and berries.
    “Trixie,” Bobby said, “it was nice of you to ride with me.”
    Trixie brushed aside his thanks. “I wanted to,” she told him. “You ride very well.”
    Bobby grew silent. From the way he was frowning, Trixie knew that he must be thinking something over.
    “I have another secret, Trixie,” Bobby said. “And I’m going to tell you.”
    Trixie reined Susie to a stop. “Remember,” she cautioned, “a secret isn’t a secret anymore if you tell it.”
    “I know,” Bobby said. He took a deep breath. “I have a tree house,” he blurted.
    Trixie’s eyes widened. “A real tree house?” she asked. “Up in a tree?”
    Bobby nodded. “Yup,” he said. “Regan found the tree, deep in the woods, and we built the house. Want to see it, Trixie?”
    An uneasy feeling swept over Trixie. Only a short distance from the Wheeler preserve, the woods grew very dense and then ended at the edge of a high cliff. All the young people were forbidden to ride near there.
    “Wait a minute, Bobby,” Trixie said slowly, not wanting to spoil his fun. “Moms won’t allow any of us to go deep into the woods. You know that. Regan must have forgotten.”
    Bobby slid down from Mr. Pony’s back and looped the reins over a bush. “We’re deep in the woods right now, Trixie,” he told her. “Regan said this spot is the deepest part in the whole woods when you ride down through Mr. Wheeler’s preserve.”
    Trixie smiled with relief. “Regan’s right,” she agreed, dismounting. “We are deep in the woods. You can’t even tell there’s a road over there on the left, behind those trees. We could walk to that road and be out of the deep woods in a minute, if we wanted