The Mystery of the Phantom Grashopper

about it. “Hi there, fella,” he said, lifting Bobby down from the saddle. “Run down to the pasture and get my jacket for me, will you? I left it hanging on the fence.”
    “Sure,” Bobby said. He waved to the “big kids” and ran off on his errand.
    “What happened, Trixie?” Regan asked quickly.
    Trixie told him about the noisy car. Honey and the boys came out of the stable to listen.
    “I didn’t know anyone used that old road,” Honey said, surprised. “It’s a dead end.”
    Regan’s concern had turned to anger. “Those crazy kids,” he grumbled. “This summer they were using the road for drag racing. I chased them off half a dozen times, but they came right back. Finally, I told them I’d call the police if I ever saw them back there again. I thought that would keep those young punks away.
    “But,” Regan continued, “a couple of times while I was building Bobby’s tree house, I saw cars drive down the road.” He frowned. “I wonder if those kids removed the ’Dead End’ sign at the entrance to the road.”
    “Could be,” Trixie said. “We never go into the woods that way, so I don’t know. The ’Road Ends’ sign is still there; I did see that.”
    “Well,” Regan decided, “I’m going to have to go check on that other sign.”
    Bobby came dashing back, shouting, “Here’s your jacket, Regan!”
    “Thanks, fella.” Regan grinned. “You and Trixie can go home now. I’ll take care of Susie and Mr. Pony.”
    “Thanks, Regan,” Trixie said. Turning to Honey in a sudden brainstorm, she asked, “Why don’t you and Jim come home with us? We’ll have an indoor cook-out—it’s too cold to eat outside. It won’t be any bother for Moms, ’cause we’ll do the work.”
    “I’m so hungry I don’t care where we eat,” Mart said, “just so we eat!”
    Honey and Jim didn’t need any more coaxing. Crabapple Farm was a happy place, full of noise and laughter. Honey thought of it as her second home, and she and Jim always enjoyed being with the Beldens.
    “Were convinced,” Honey said with a smile. “I’ll call Miss Trask from there.”

    “Moms,” Trixie called, leading the way into the big kitchen, “Honey and Jim are going to eat dinner with us. We’ll have an indoor cookout right here in the kitchen, okay? You go in the living room and relax with Dad—we’ll get everything ready, so you won’t have a thing to worry about.”
    Mart and Honey prepared a big salad while Jim took charge of broiling the hot dogs. Brian rushed around, getting in everyone’s way, setting the long kitchen table. Trixie peeled potatoes and chopped little white onions for hot potato salad.
    Mart breathed deeply as the kitchen filled with appetizing smells. He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. “Hurry,” he urged. “Rigor mortis is setting in!”
    When everything was ready, Mr. and Mrs. Relden and Bobby were called to the table. In the center of the bright red and white checked tablecloth was a steaming platter of hot dogs and toasted buns. The big wooden salad bowl was on one side of the table, and on the other side was a serving bowl heaped with hot potato salad. Catsup, mustard, and relish were close at hand.
    “Hey!” Bobby exclaimed. “A picnic!”
    “The best kind of picnic,” Trixie’s father pointed out. “No ants!”
    Everyone laughed and took a place at the table. Between mouthfuls, Bobby told his mother and father about surprising the Bob-Whites with his riding ability. “Trixie and me rode to a secret place deep in the woods,” he said, “and a car scared Mr. Pony and he ran away.”
    Mr. Belden looked questioningly at Trixie.
    “The old dead-end road behind the game preserve,” Trixie explained. “Regan told us that some kids have been using it for drag racing. Mr. Pony didn’t go far, and no one got hurt.”
    “I wasn’t riding on Mr. Pony when he ran away,” Bobby said quickly. “He was parked .”
    This brought more laughter.
    “Well, I’m glad no one got hurt,” Mrs. Belden said. “You be careful, young man,” she told Bobby, “and ride only in the pasture unless Trixie or the others can ride with you.”
    After finishing off a chocolate layer cake for dessert, the young people helped clean up the kitchen, and then everyone relaxed around the fireplace in the living room and listened to WSTH.
    “Boy,” Brian said, “that big band sound is really kind of neat.”
    “Yeah,” Mart admitted. “But I wonder how they did it