The Red Trailer Mystery

telling them all about Jim and asking them if they would adopt him. Of course, I haven’t had time to hear yet, but I might get a letter tomorrow."
    "Oh, Honey," Trixie gasped. "Do you think they’ll do it?"
    "Miss Trask seemed to think so," Honey said. "She and Mr. Rainsford talked about it for a long time on Thursday, after you went home. At first he wanted to adopt Jim himself, but he travels a lot all over the world, so he wouldn’t be a very good father. And Miss Trask argued that Jim ought to grow up with other boys and girls. So finally he said he’d write to Dad himself about appointing him as guardian, anyway. They’re old friends, you know. As a matter of fact, Mr. Rainsford suddenly remembered that Dad and Jim’s father knew each other years ago. They went to the same school or ¡something."
    "It’s getting better and better," Trixie cried enthusiastically. "How do you think your mother will feel about adopting Jim?"
    "I—don’t—know," Honey admitted ruefully. "I’m scared she won’t even consider it. But somehow I feel sure if she could meet Jim she would like him as much as we do." Tears welled up in her wide hazel eyes. "When I was little I heard my nurse talking to the cook, and she said the reason my mother didn’t pay any attention to me was that I was a girl instead of a boy."
    "How perfectly awful," Trixie exploded. "And of course it’s not true. You should never have paid any attention to such silly talk."
    Honey looked down at her long slender hands for a moment. "Well, anyway, if Mother does want a son, she couldn’t find anybody better than Jim. And he’s a lot like Dad. You know, they both have quick tempers, like most redheaded people, but they never stay mad long. And they’re terribly frank and honest and athletic and love the outdoors." She smiled suddenly through her tears. "IH probably be terribly jealous of Jim if Dad does adopt him."
    Trixie laughed. "Jim is just what you need to help you get to know your parents. The only trouble with your mother and you is that you’re both shy. But Jim isn’t. Remember the day we discovered him? We felt as though we’d known him all our lives in just a few minutes."
    The trail ended abruptly at the macadam road, several yards north of the winding path they had taken earlier to Pine Hollow.
    "Now what?" Trixie asked. "Did Jim go north or south on the highway, or did he pick up the trail on the other side of the road?"
    Honey stared down at the faint marks of bicycle tire treads in the dirt. "Your guess is as good as mine," she said. "But let’s ride north for a bit and see if there is another path leading into the woods."
    "Maybe he cut through this underbrush," Trixie wondered out loud. "It looks as though somebody might have dragged a bike through here recently."
    "Well, we can’t go that way," Honey objected. "Not on horseback."
    A twig crackled, and both girls turned quickly, just in time to catch a glimpse of something that looked like blue jeans disappearing in the thicket "Jim," both girls gasped at once, then raised their voices. "Jim! Jim!" they shouted.
    And then the dogs came bounding down the trail. A few feet from the road, Reddy suddenly swerved and, barking joyfully, as though greeting an old friend, tore off through the underbrush with Bud.
    "It was Jim," Trixie said. "Reddy recognized him."
    "I don’t think so," Honey objected. "He would have answered us. And Reddy thinks everybody’s his best friend. So does Bud."
    Trixie looked discouraged. "We couldn’t possibly be lucky enough to find Jim the very first thing," she said. "I guess whoever was wearing those dungarees is a Pine Hollow boy exploring the woods."
    "That’s what I think," Honey said. "Let’s try to find another path with more bicycle marks on it."
    They rode up the highway for half a mile or so but saw no more bridle paths. They were just about to turn back when a large van came lumbering out of the woods just ahead of them.
    "There must be a road there," Trixie cried excitedly. "Let’s see if there are any signs of tire treads."
    As they passed the van, Trixie glanced disinterestedly at the driver, but a second later she sucked in her breath and whispered to Honey, "The man driving that van had bushy hair, like Joeanne’s father, and the other one looked like Jeff, the waiter!"
    Honey turned in the saddle to stare after the van. "Are you sure?" she demanded. "I mean, are you sure it was Joeanne’s father?"
    Trixie shook her head. "No. His