The Mystery of the Phantom Grashopper

to.”
    “But we don’t, we don’t!” Bobby exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement. “I’m going to show you my tree house.”
    “Okay,” Trixie said. “Where is it?”
    Bobby doubled over with giggles. “Look up above your head, Trixie,” he said. “You’re leaning against the tree where we built it!”
    “Here?” Trixie asked incredulously. Stepping away from the tree, she looked up into the branches. The tree house was nestled in the wide middle section, almost hidden from view. Regan had designed the tree house so expertly that it looked as if it had grown there.
    The tree itself was sturdy and not too tall, with strong, low-hanging branches. It was a perfect tree for a small boy to climb in without much danger of falling.
    “It’s beautiful, Bobby!” Trixie said. “What made you decide to build a tree house?”
    “Well,” Bobby said, putting his hands in his pockets, “I had to. Moms was mad at me ’cause my room was a mess. She says I collect too much junk, but, Trixie, it’s not junk! My collections are full of real valuable stuff!”
    Trixie smiled. “I know, I know,” she assured him hastily.
    “Come on, I’ll show them to you,” Bobby urged. He scrambled up into the tree.
    Seconds later, Trixie stepped gingerly onto the platform floor of Bobby’s tree house. She pivoted slowly on one foot, looking around her. Many of the leaves had fallen from the nearby trees, and Trixie was surprised to see that the old dead-end road was even closer than she had thought. Very few people used the road, and the weather-beaten ROAD ENDS sign looked ready to fall apart.
    “Look, here are my collections,” Bobby said, pointing to his treasures lined up on the floor. There was a coffee can filled with bottle caps, a mound of ’lucky” stones, a lopsided ball of string, a bag full of baseball cards, and a tin can full of buttons. Regan had built a covering over the collections to protect them from the elements.
    “I was going to collect bugs, too,” Bobby told Trixie, “but Moms says I can’t. She says bugs are good for the ground, so I have to leave them there.”
    “Don’t collect snakes, either,” Trixie warned. “Are you going to keep all your collections here?” she asked.
    Bobby thought that over carefully before answering. “Not everything. If I find something funny, I’ll bring it home to show Moms. She can tell me what it is.”
    Trixie frowned. “Do you mean ’funny ha-ha’ or ’funny peculiar’?” she asked.
    “What’s pick—pickooler mean?” Bobby wanted to know.
    “Oh, strange things... things you never saw before,” Trixie told him.
    Bobby nodded. “Yup. The funny things like that I’ll bring home to Moms,” he said.
    The sudden squeal of tires nearby made Bobby jump. “Hey,” he shouted, “there’s a car out on that road!”
    Trixie had only a glimpse of the car as she jumped to her feet. Her ears caught the whinny of a frightened pony.
    “Bobby,” she cried, “that loud noise scared Mr-Pony! He’s running away!” She hurriedly climbed down from the tree.
    Susie was tossing her head fretfully and stomping her feet. Off to the left, Trixie could see Mr. Pony thrashing through the bushes.
    Swinging into the saddle, Trixie patted Susie, calming her. “It’s all right, Susie,” she whispered soothingly. “You and I have to catch poor Mr. Pony before he hurts himself.”
    Bobby reached the ground with tears streaming down his face. “Come back, Mr. Pony,” he wailed. “Please don’t run away!”
    The little pony didn’t get far. Trixie spotted him cowering in a clump of heavy bushes, trembling. His coat was dusty and full of burs.
    “It’s okay, Mr. Pony. Don’t be afraid,” Trixie said. Gently, softly, she talked to him and tried to calm his fears. She didn’t try to touch him until he had stopped shaking. Then, taking his reins, she led the Shetland pony out of the thicket and back to the tree house.
    Bobby threw his arms around Mr. Pony’s shaggy neck. “Thank you, Trixie,” he said, wiping away his tears.
    “We’d better go back now, Bobby,” Trixie said. “Everybody will be waiting for us.”

    Honey and the boys were inside the stable, grooming their horses, when Trixie and Bobby got back. Dan had already left to go back to Mr. Maypenny’s cottage.
    One look at Bobby’s tear-stained face and the burs caught in Mr. Pony’s shaggy coat, and Regan knew something had gone wrong. Wisely, he asked Bobby no questions