The Red Trailer Mystery

fields without getting stuck, and between the barn and the main highway are thick woods." She stopped and pointed straight ahead of her. "The way I figure it, the barn must be on the other side of that dump of trees." They walked downhill for a few more minutes, and then Honey sucked in her breath and let it out again in a long whistle. Only a short distance ahead of them, almost completely covered with heavy vines, was a high, dilapidated structure that looked as though a puff of wind would blow it down.
    Trixie could hardly control her own excitement, but she quickly silenced Honey with a warning finger. "Sh-h, they might be in there now. Let’s sneak up to it and peek through a window."
    And then the rain began to come down again in torrents. Honey clutched Trixie’s arm. "I’m scared," she whispered. "We’ll get soaked if we stand here, but I wouldn’t go inside that old barn for anything!"
    "Wait a minute," Trixie whispered back. "I’ll bet that old thing hasn’t even got a door. I’ll creep around and see if I can get a view of the front."
    She crawled off through the trees, slipping and sloshing in the mud, and in a couple of minutes she caught a glimpse of the entrance to the barn. One door had fallen off completely, and the other hung precariously from a rusty hinge. There was no sign of the van or the men, but from this spot Trixie could plainly see heavy tire marks in the old road that led up from the hollow to the sloping orchard.
    "Come on," she shouted to Honey. "The coast’s clear." They raced for shelter.
    Once inside, the girls stared around them in amazement. It was as though they had walked from the rainy outdoors into a storage warehouse. There were three almost new refrigerators with matching electric stoves, two radios, a portable record player, vacuum cleaners, lamps, mattresses and springs, televisions, and all sorts of other expensive-looking electrical appliances.
    "Whew!" Trixie shouted. "There must be thousands of dollars worth of stuff stacked around here."
    Honey clapped her hand over Trixie’s mouth. "Hush," she whispered. "Someone’s coming! Can’t you hear footsteps sloshing through the mud?"
    Trixie listened and then grabbed Honey’s arm. "Quick! Up in the loft." She started for the rickety ladder, but Honey hung back.
    "It’ll never hold our weight," she gasped. "It’ll collapse, and we’ll both be killed."
    Desperate, Trixie gave her a little shake. "Whoever is coming is bound to be either Jeff or his foxy pal," she whispered hoarsely. "I’d rather risk the loft than be caught by either one of them."
    Numb with fright, Honey began to climb, with Trixie right behind her. They reached the top and crawled under the eaves just as the sound of men’s voices came to them through the drumming of the rain on the ancient roof.
    "—but what about that redheaded kid?" someone was asking. "Suppose he rats on us, Al?"
    Cautiously Trixie bent forward and peered through a crack In the wide floorboards. Jeff and his bushy-haired friend were standing just inside the entrance.
    The man called Al shrugged. "That kid doesn’t worry me one little bit"
    "I don’t get it" Jeff whined. "Two dumb little girls scare you away from a swell hiding place right off the road, but you let that redheaded punk—"
    "Oh, shut up," A1 interrupted gruffly. "That kid isn’t going to rat on anybody, see? Now, get the jack you so cleverly left in here. The van’s not doing us any good sitting on the side of the road with a flat tire."
    "I’m going to take a look up in that loft first," Jeff argued. "If he’s hiding there, I’d like to have a few words with him."
    Trixie didn’t dare look at Honey. She held her breath and closed her eyes, listening with horror to the heavy footsteps on the floor below.

A Fateful Sneeze • 12

    TRIXIE’S FISTS were clenched into tight little white-knuckled knots as she waited tensely for Jeff to climb up the ladder to the loft.
    And then Al’s voice snarled. "You thickheaded numbskull! That kid’s not in the loft. And if he is, so what? He’s no more friendly with the troopers than we are. Pick up that jack and get going. Do you want someone to take a look inside of that van while you play hide-and-seek with a boy who’s a fugitive from reform school?"
    The heavy footsteps stopped, and Trixie opened her eyes. She peered down through the crack again.
    The two men were glowering at each other. Jeff was not whining and cringing now, although Al, a big,