The secret of the Mansion

slowly.
    "Well, then," Trixie cried triumphantly. "Let’s get going. Is there a ladder in the barn?"
    Jim frowned. "I don’t like the idea. It seems like prying into something my uncle didn’t want anyone to see."
    "Why must you be so stubborn?" Trixie demanded. "I don’t see what difference it makes. If you searched one floor, why not another? Anyway, the whole place really belongs to you, now, Jim!"
    "Not exactly," he said. "Uncle James isn’t dead yet, and he might have changed his will, you know."
    "Oh, for heaven’s sake," Trixie groaned. "Let’s try to find the will, then." She added ominously, "If nobody ever finds it, you’ll have to go back to your stepfather."
    Jim’s face darkened. "I told you I’d never go back," he said hotly. "I can get a job at a summer camp."
    "And what about afterward?" Trixie goaded him. "You don’t want to quit school now. Not with only one more year to go and a scholarship for college waiting for you."
    "I do want to go to college," Jim admitted ruefully. "I’d like to get at least a master s degree so I could teach the boys some subjects myself if that dream of mine ever comes true."
    Trixie knew he was weakening now. "This old house is worthless, I guess," she said quickly, "but land around here sells for a thousand dollars an acre. So you’ll inherit at least ten thousand dollars when your uncle dies. If," she finished pointedly, "we find the will."
    "I guess you’re right." Jim turned to put the gun inside the house but stopped suddenly. "Listen," he whispered. "Something’s running along the bridle trail from the Wheeler place."
    "What of it?" Trixie demanded sourly. "It’s probably Reddy chasing a squirrel or a chipmunk."
    "It sounds like a dog," Jim said, still listening. "But it’s running like crazy and—"
    At that moment Honey emerged from the driveway. "Hello," she called out. "At the last minute, I was too scared of Queenie to go through the thicket alone so I came up this way." She stopped as she noticed Jim’s tense face. "What’s the matter?"
    Trixie could hear the animal now, racing up the path on the other side of the hedge; and, as Honey’s face turned white, Trixie realized that she had heard it, too. Whatever it was, it tore ahead, straight into the thicket. "It’s not Reddy," Trixie thought wildly. "He would have been sure to turn off at the down-trail to our house."
    There was the sound of something thrashing madly in the tangled vines, and then the yellow mongrel burst into the clearing. Foam was dripping from its vicious muzzle, and Honey screamed once as it plunged onward, straight at her.
     

The Old Ladder • 10
     
    STAND STILL, Honey!" Jim yelled as lie raised his gun to his shoulder and fired.
    The dog leaped convulsively into the air, then dropped dead, not two feet from where Honey was standing. Honey had covered her face with her hands, and she pitched forward into their arms as Jim and Trixie raced to her side.
    "She’s fainted," Trixie yelled as they carefully lowered her to the ground.
    Jim raced around to the well in the back of the house and returned with a tin can full of water. Then, for the second time that day, Trixie bathed Honey’s face and wrists. The icy cold water brought her to immediately, and she sat up with a little moan, her face still reflecting her terror.
    "My nightmare!" she exclaimed, looking first at one and then the other. "It was just like a dream. I couldn’t run."
    "It was a good thing you didn’t," Jim said. "In the first place, it’s never wise to run away from a dog, anyway. It confuses them if you stand perfectly still and show no sign of fear. And in the second place, if you had run toward us, you would have got between me and the dog, so I couldn’t have shot it." He stared soberly down at the dead animal. "Poor old fellow. I had hopes of making friends with him sometime and trying to tame him, but I guess he’s better off this way. I wouldn’t have been able to take him with me when I go."
    "Jim," Honey asked impulsively, "you’re not going away soon, are you?"
    Jim shrugged noncommittally as he dragged the dog into the field to bury it.
    Trixie and Honey rested in the shade while they waited for Jim to return. Honey was still weak from fright and was glad of the chance to he quietly in the shade for a few minutes.
    When he came back, Honey asked, "Do you think he had rabies, Jim?"
    "I don’t think so," Jim said. "Dogs often froth at the mouth in hot weather or sometimes simply