The Red Trailer Mystery

tired-looking things apple trees?"
    "That’s right," Trixie told her. "We have lots of them like that at home. Dad is always going to chop them down for firewood, but they are so beautiful when they blossom in the spring Moms won’t let him." She leaned across her saddle to whisper, "Do you suppose it’s the same orchard Jeff and his bushy-haired friend were talking about?"
    Honey shuddered. "If it is, let’s not go near the place. I’m scared of those men, Trixie, and they already suspect us of spying on them."
    Trixie ignored her. "When we get to the top of this hill, let’s look down and see if we can see an old barn. There must be a truck farm around there, but the woods shut out our view."
    But the trail to Wilson Ranch led downhill instead of up, and Trixie was so busy slapping at the deer flies swarming around Prince’s neck that she forgot to look for signs of a farm. The flies left them at the edge of the woods, and they cantered across a wide field to pick up the trail again on the other side. They stopped for a cool drink at a spring and bathed their hot arms and faces.
    "Whew!" Trixie gasped as the horses drank thirstily. "This is awful. How much farther do we have to go?"
    Honey consulted the map. "Why, were almost there. As a matter of fact, we are there. This patch of woods belongs to the camp. We should be able to see the cabins in a few minutes."
    But before they saw the camp, they heard unmistakable sounds of boys swimming—splashing, yelling, the blowing of a whistle—and then they rounded a bend in the path and found themselves a few yards from the quarry.
    One tall blond boy was poised on the diving board, and Honey cried, "Why, that’s my cousin, Ben Riker. I haven’t seen him in ages, but I’d know him anywhere. Nobody else is such a clown."
    Ben, pretending that he had lost his nerve, was backing away from the edge of the board. All of a sudden he lost his balance and fell over the side with a loud splash. Grinning and sputtering, he emerged and promptly caught sight of the girls and their horses.
    "Honey Wheeler!" he shouted, scrambling up the bank. "Where did you come from, and what are you doing here?"
    Honey introduced him to Trixie and explained about the trailer trip. "We re looking for a redheaded boy named Jim," she said. "Would you know if he tried to get a job at Wilson Ranch?"
    "No," Ben said, "but Mr. Ditmar would. He’s the tall guy over there blowing the whistle. He knows the joint and is a swell person. Come on, we’ll ask him about your friend."
    Mr. Ditmar nodded pleasantly when Honey asked him about Jim. "Why, yes," he said, "a husky young redhead applied for a job here yesterday in all that rain. I liked the boy’s looks, and we could use another junior athletic instructor here for the nursery group, but I couldn’t hire anyone without references. A letter from his principal or the minister of his church would do. I told him to have his parents get in touch with me right away."
    Honey looked at Trixie. "Oh, gosh," she said under her breath. "That’s too bad."
    "What do you mean, too bad?" Ben demanded. "He couldn’t get a job at a better camp."
    "I think I know what she means," Mr. Ditmar said easily. "I got the impression from the way the boy evaded my questions that he was a runaway. Was I right?"
    Trixie hesitated a moment, then, deciding that Mr. Ditmar would prove to be a friend, she blurted, "Yes. Jim ran away from his cruel stepfather, and we’ve got to find him before he runs away for good. He’s recently inherited half a million dollars, but he doesn’t know it."
    Together the two girls told the whole story, and when they had finished, Mr. Ditmar said sympathetically, "I’m sorry now I didn’t hire him right on the spot, although, of course, I couldn’t without knowing more of his background."
    "Say," Ben put in, "you girls look as though you were about to have a sunstroke. Would it be all right for them to take a quick swim, Mr. Ditmar?"
    "Certainly," Mr. Ditmar said and added, "we’re getting ready for the senior races. Maybe you’d like to stay and watch and have lunch with us afterward. The boys are brewing a hunter’s stew back at the ranch house, and I’m sure they’d like to try it out on you girls."
    Honey giggled. "It sounds like fun, but I hope Ben didn’t have anything to do with the stew. If he did, I’ll bet it’s full of red pepper."
    "Ill have you know," Ben said airily, "that I’m a better cook than you’ll ever