The Red Trailer Mystery

with burrs, joined them.
    "You tramps!" Trixie scolded. "They’ve gone completely wild in the last few days, Honey. We really shouldn’t let them roam the countryside like this. They’re sure to get into trouble sooner or later."
    After joyful greetings, the dogs trotted off through the trees and then waited, as though they wanted the girls to follow them.
    "Maybe they’ve discovered something," Honey suggested optimistically.
    "We might as well go that way as any other," Trixie agreed.
    They trudged along the pine-needle carpet under the thick canopy of evergreens and suddenly came out upon a clearing.
    "We’ve found it!" Trixie shouted at the top of her lungs. "It’s Jim’s camp."
    There could be no doubt that somebody had been, or still was, camping out on the spot, for a crude canvas tent had been stretched between two trees on the edge of the clearing. Nearby were the ashes of a small fire between two upright forked sticks.
    "That’s just like the outdoor spit Jim built up at the Mansion," Honey said. "He ran a pointed stick through a piece of meat, then hung it over the fire between two forked sticks and kept turning it until it was done."
    "I’ll bet he built that tent, too," Trixie cried. "It’s even got a mosquito net. Let’s peek inside."
    They started across the clearing and then stopped as they both saw something that had obviously been ground into the mud and had been washed to the surface by the recent heavy rain. It was another faded blue hair ribbon.
    Trixie stared at Honey as she handed her the stained bit of frayed sateen. "Joeanne again! But she couldn’t have put up that tent. It took a strong boy to handle that heavy canvas. Only Jim could have done it all by himself."
    "Maybe he wasn’t alone," Honey put in quietly. Trixie gasped. "Oh, my goodness. That’s the answer, of course. He and Joeanne have met each other!"
    "That’s what I think," Honey said. "And it’s like Jim to have let her live in this nice tent while he looked for some other shelter. Ill bet that’s how he happened to find the old barn."
    "He caught a glimpse of it from that mound where I saw something shining in the sunlight," Trixie went on excitedly. "That little hill can’t be far away."
    "Let’s try to figure out what happened," Honey said. "We can only guess, of course, but this is what probably happened. It was Joeanne we saw Sunday on our way back from Pine Hollow. Shortly after that she met Jim or discovered him here in this camp. He gave her a nice supper and let her spend the night in his tent while he moved to the old barn."
    "And that was the very night," Trixie added, "that the trailer thieves changed their hideaway. Jim heard them coming and hid in the loft and watched them unload the van."
    "He probably suspected something dishonest was going on," Honey continued, "but couldn’t be sure. So he stayed there again last night and heard them planning to hijack Mr. Currier’s trailer."
    "We know the rest of it," Trixie finished, "except where he and Joeanne are now. Let’s see if there are any clues inside the tent."
    They unhooked the mosquito-netting flap and ducked under it. An Army blanket was folded at the foot of a bed of neatly arranged balsam boughs in one comer, and in the other were stacks of canned goods —tomato juice, evaporated milk, corned-beef hash, soups, and other groceries. On top of the cans was a complete boy-scout kit of cooking utensils.
    "Jim bought all this stuff a little at a time," Honey said, "at different towns on his way up the river. He may even have bought a secondhand bike in Sleepy-side when he left early Thursday morning."
    "Do you think he’s gone away and left it all for Joeanne?" Trixie asked thoughtfully.
    "Somehow I don’t think so," Honey replied. "Joeanne is the one who mystifies me. Why did she run away and then turn around and follow her family upstate?"
    Trixie shook her head. "That whole red-trailer family baffles me. I wish I could remember where I’d seen the Robin before—if I really did."
    At that moment Bud wriggled under the mosquito netting. Before Honey could stop him, he had playfully seized one corner of the army blanket in his mouth and dragged it half off the bed.
    "Drop it, Bud, you bad puppy," Honey commanded, patting his muzzle as she slipped the blanket from between his sharp little teeth. "Honestly, you’re the worst pest—"
    "Honey," Trixie interrupted. "Look under the boughs at the foot of the bed. Jim’s cup and Bible and