The Mystery off Glen Road

go near the stable.”
    “All right, all right,” Jim said, grinning. “Then it’s all settled. Except for one thing. When you girls patrol, for pete’s sake, stick to the old bridle trails. Don’t wander off on any of the paths. While we work, we’ll cope with that part of the patrolling.”
    “Oh, heavens, yes,” Mart cried. “By all means stick to the trails, ladies. Otherwise, we’ll have to hire bloodhounds if we ever want to see you again.” In a loud aside to Brian he added, “Not that we ever want to. Trixie, I mean. After all, Honey is handy with a needle, so it would be tragic if we lost her.” Jim chuckled. “But Trixie sort of grows on you. Now that I’m used to her form of insanity, I’d hate to lose her. She’s sort of a human slide rule. Anybody who isn’t as crazy as she is must be sane by comparison. If you see what I mean.”
    “We do; we do,” Trixie said wearily. “Pardon me for moving around, but there’s a shortage of strait-jackets. As soon as I can get into one, I’ll curl up for a long winter’s nap, while you heroes do all of my chores. Complete with Bobby and dawn patrol.”
    “Oh, no,” Mart yelled. “Dawn patrol I could endure for the sake of the club. But Bobby, no. Why, if I had to do your Bobby-sitting for you, I’d be as crazy as you are in no time at all.” He clenched his fist and tapped her lightly on the chin. “So don't go out and get lost!”

A Terrifying Scene ● 9

    SUNDAY TURNED out to be another crisp, cool, sunshiny day. Trixie and Honey met at the stable right after breakfast. As they saddled and bridled their horses, Honey said, “The boys sure did a lot of work yesterday afternoon. They cleared all of the paths, and Jim said this morning that he’s not very worried about the feeding stations. All of the ones they inspected yesterday were all right.”
    “That’s good,” Trixie said as she swung up on the back of the lovely young mare, Susie. This horse theoretically belonged to Miss Trask, but because Miss Trask seldom had time to ride, Trixie felt that Susie really belonged to her.
    Honey mounted Starlight and said, “This good weather can’t last long, Trixie. And if the boys can’t repair the clubhouse roof before we get sleet and snow and all, well, we might just as well forget that we ever had a clubhouse.” They trotted along the path that led up to the section of the game preserve that lay behind the Robin. As they passed the red trailer, Honey said, “I’m so glad the honeymoon cottage escaped the storm. Celia and Tom would be brokenhearted if they came back and found the Robin the mess our clubhouse is. Oh, Trixie,” she finished in a wail of despair, “I know I’m silly to get so upset, but all of my life, while I was going to boarding schools and camps, I kept dreaming about someday belonging to a boys’ and girls’ club— and—and now our clubhouse is ruined.”
    Trixie said nothing for a while. She knew that Honey, who had been a poor little rich girl until the Wheelers bought the Manor House and adopted Jim, would suffer more than any of the others if the clubhouse couldn’t be rebuilt. And the funny part of it was that if Honey wanted a brand-new wonderful clubhouse, all she had to do was tell her father, and he would have one built for her right away. But none of the Bob-Whites, Honey least of all, would have liked that. So there was nothing to do but hope that the boys would have time to do the necessary work on the clubhouse roof before winter set in. The sky now, thank heavens, was a solid blue arch without a cloud in it. But you never could count on November weather. They might wake up on Thanksgiving morning to find themselves in the midst of a blizzard.
    “An ice storm,” Honey was saying mournfully. “It could happen tonight or tomorrow night. And then, if it were followed by a high wind, why—”
    “Oh, Honey,” Trixie interrupted, “don’t be such a Calamity Jane. Maybe all of the feeding stations are okay, so the boys can go right back to work on the clubhouse. Let’s explore and make sure for ourselves.”
    “Oh, no,” Honey cried, reining the big chestnut gelding to an abrupt stop. “We promised the boys that we wouldn’t ever leave the trails, Trixie.”
    “We didn’t do anything of the kind,” Trixie retorted. “They tried to make us promise. Remember? But we didn’t. Oh,” she interrupted herself, “I suddenly remembered something. We shouldn’t be patrolling this part