The Mystery on Cobbett's Island

meant all the crew had been saved. But just then our lookout called down that he could see another man on the fore-deck, and it looked as though he had been hurt.
    “By this time the ship was an inferno, and I didn’t think we’d have time to try to rescue another without being set afire ourselves, but before I’d even had time to make up my mind, one of our men had jumped across to the other deck and was running forward to try to save the injured man. We could see him lift him up, sling him over his shoulder, and carry him to the rail, where he heaved him over to our boat. Then Ed—that was his name—jumped over himself. That is, he started to jump, but he missed his footing and fell between the boats, into the sea.”
    The captain stopped here, and Trixie knew he was having a hard time trying to continue. This was not just another sea story. This was a tragedy in which he had been personally involved. Trixie hoped he would continue, but she resolved not to ask a single question that might trouble this old man who looked so strong but who, she now knew, was most tenderhearted.
    “So the sea took its toll again,” he finally continued. “We searched the water all that night and the next day, even when we knew it was hopeless. You may wonder what all this has to do with the old Condon place,” he continued, looking questioningly at Trixie. “Well, I’ll tell you. Mr. Condon had always been fond of Ed and advised him and such, and when he heard that Ed was gone, the shock killed him. Yes, two days after we got back to port, Mr. Condon, too, was gone, and no one left to live in his big house. He willed it to a distant niece out in California, and she’s rented it out ever since. Well, that’s it, young lady. So when you look over the harbor to the bunker boats, just think of a young man who didn’t think twice about giving his life for someone he didn’t even know. He was a hero, that Ed.”
    Before Trixie had time to do more than thank him for telling her the story, the captain had gone away to see about cleaning up the remains of the clambake. Trixie turned to Jim, who had been sitting next to her, and said, “So now we know. Ed was a real person.”

The Mysterious Stranger • 12

    CAN YOU IMAGINE? The garden party is this afternoon!” exclaimed Trixie. “I don’t see how we’ll ever get ready in time!”
    “I simply have to wash my hair. It’s full of sand from last night,” said Honey as she brushed it vigorously, “and it must smell like burning brush from all that smoke.”
    “Do you think the dresses we brought will be all right?” Di asked.
    “I guess they’ll have to be,” Honey answered. “Now that Mrs. Kimball has asked us to help, I wish we had something special to wear so we wouldn’t look like guests.”
    “Yes,” mused Trixie, “something like the Spanish costumes we wore in the winter carnival, only different, if you know what I mean.”
    “Well, I can’t think of anything we could dream up on the spur of the moment, can you?” asked Di.
    “No,” answered Trixie slowly, “not unless—”
    “Not unless what, Trix? Something tells me you have one of your inspirations. Let’s have it,” cried Diana.
    “Well, I was just thinking. Remember all those trunks in the attic at Peter’s house? Maybe there are some old-fashioned clothes up there that we could dress up in. People used to keep stuff like that, you know.”
    “That’s an absolutely brilliant idea, Trix!” exclaimed Honey. “Let’s go down and call Peter and see if his mother minds if we look through them. You know, he said the other day that he always meant to explore up there but never had the time.”
    “Even if we don’t find any dresses, it’ll be fun to see what’s in the trunks,” added Di as they went to phone.
    “But what about the gazebo?” Honey asked, stopping abruptly halfway down the stairs. “There’s still a terrific amount of work to do on it before the party.”
    “Oh, jeepers, I forgot all about that,” said Trixie dismally, sitting down on the bottom stair with her chin in her hands. “But I know what,” she said, her face almost immediately brightening. “We’ll let the boys take care of that little problem. You know how manly they acted about not wanting us to use the chain saw? Well, now we’ll flatter them into thinking they’re the only ones who could possibly know enough about carpentry to do the job.”
    “Good idea if it works,” answered Honey, somewhat