"Not exactly," he said. "Uncle James isn't dead yet, and he might have changed his will, you know."
"Oh, for heaven's sakes," 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 turned off at the down trail to our house.
There was the sound of something struggling madly in the tangled vines, and then the yellow dog 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
"Stand still, Honey!" Jim yelled as he 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 Honey to immediately, and she sat up with a little moan.
"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 lie 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 because of nervousness."
"I know," Trixie put in. "When Reddy was a puppy he used to when he was carsick."
Honey shuddered. "But suppose he had had hydrophobia and had bitten me, I would have died, wouldn't V'
"Oh, no," Jim said easily. "There's the Pasteur treat-ment, you know. Your doctor would have immediately vaccinated you against hydrophobia." He smiled at Honey sympathetically. "You had a nasty scare. Feel all right now?"
Honey nodded. "But I'm glad that dog won't bother us any more." They told him, then, about Trixie's accident and how she had thrown the cushion in the mongrel's face.
"I was wondering where you got that bump." Jim grinned admiringly at Trixie. "It took plenty of nerve to do what you did, but it took a heck of a lot more to do what you did yesterday. You have plenty of courage."
Trixie flushed uncomfortably. "I don't know what you mean."
"Sucking the venom out of Bobby's toe," he explained. "If you'd had a cut or a sore in your mouth-,, "I never even thought about that," Trixie admitted. "If we're going to do a lot of roaming through these woods and fields," Jim said thoughtfully, "we really ought to carry snake-bite kits. They come equipped with a scalpel, suction pump, and tourniquet, you know. The important thing with snake bites is speed and keeping the victim quiet, so the poison won't spread. But the most important thing," he finished, was to avoid being bitten. And you, Trixie, ought to be more careful. You were all set to barge into that summerhouse this morning. Don't you know that snakes love to rest in deserted houses?"
Trixie stared, shamefaced, down at her hands, and Honey quickly changed the subject. "Whatever happened to Queenie?"
"She's okay," Jim told her. "I saw her tearing across the courtyard just before you came up. She just pretended to be hurt, the way wild birds do, to lure the dog away from where her nest is hidden in the thicket."
"I'm glad of that," Trixie said. "She's a wonderful little hen. I was wondering how we were ever going to catch her so we could put a splint on her wing. She scurries away at the first sound of anyone coming near."
"We would have had to do it at night," Jim said. "If we could have found her nest. And I doubt if we could have done that."
"Wait till you see her baby chicks," Trixie told Honey. "They're the cutest little balls of yellow fluff with stripes down their backs like chipmunks."
"I'd love to see one," Honey said. "But I wouldn't dare go near them."
"You wouldn't have a chance," Trixie said. "If you think Queenie's mean while she's setting, you ought to see her after the eggs are hatched. Boy! She's a terror."
She turned to Jim. "Come on, it's getting late. Aren't we going to explore the top floor?"
"Okay," Jim said reluctantly as he led the way around to the barn in the back of the house. "But I still don't like the idea."
"I don't either," Honey said determinedly. "I wouldn't go up there for anything in the whole wide world." "What's that?" Trixie asked, pointing to an oil drum which hung from a branch of a large evergreen. Jim grinned. "That's my outdoor shower. I got so hot and dirty looking for hidden treasure I rigged it up." "How does it work?" Trixie demanded.
"Well, first I punched a hole in the bottom of the drum and ran a rope through it, knotting one end and looping the other over the branch. Then I punched a lot of little holes around the big one. After that all you have to do is fill the can with water, pull on the rope, and stand under your shower."
"Why, it's wonderful," Trixie cried. "I'm going to make one for Bobby. He'll love it! He's always begging me to squirt him with the hose."
"Down at your place," Jim said, "you probably have a hose, so you can make a permanent shower. Tie the can securely in the fork of the tree, place one end of the hose in it, turn on the water, and there you are. But," he cautioned, "you'd better not waste water until we get a good long rain. The well up here is almost dry."
"Our brook is nothing but a trickle," Trixie said. "I wish it would rain. With the cistern so low, we're going to have to bring water soon from the house to the garden, and that's an awful chore. I don't like to carry heavy wat
er buckets."
They found an old cobwebby ladder in the barn and dragged it around to the house. The girls held the ladder in place while Jim tried one second-story window after another without success, for the windows had apparently not been opened for years.
"Of course they're all locked," Trixie said in disgust. "Nobody would be dumb enough to board up the staircase without first locking all the windows up there."
"Well, I'm not going to break in," Jim said stubbornly. "And," he finished, "I won't have to. This one's stuck but not locked. I can pry it loose with a hammer and chisel."
"Great!" Trixie cried. "I can hardly wait to see what's up there."
Jim started down backward and halfway to the ground there was a rending, splintering sound as one rung in the old ladder split in two under Jim's weight. He struggled wildly to regain his balance, and, although the girls used all their combined strength to hold the ladder in place, it swung slowly but surely away from the wall.
It seemed like hours that it swayed in midair and then crashed to the ground, pinning Jim beneath its weight.
A Precious Piece of Paper
"Oh, oh," Honey shrieked. "His back's broken. I know it is!"
Trixie felt a scream rising in her own throat as she stared dazedly at the crumpled form of the boy. Every freckle stood out in the whiteness of his face, and his hair was a bright splotch of red against his pale forehead. Then, as he let out an involuntary moan, she began tugging at the heavy ladder. Between them, the girls finally lifted and pushed the ladder away, and Jim looked up with a sickly grin.
"Golly, I know now what a drowning man goes through," he said. "Everything that ever happened to me flashed through my mind while that ladder was deciding what it was going to do." He stretched his arms and legs tentatively, slowly flexing his wrists and ankles. "No bones broken, thank goodness." He sat up. "I made myself go limp as soon as I realized I was going to fall."
"I was pretty limp myself," Trixie said, and grinned.
Jim scrambled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "I'll have a lump the size of yours," he told Trixie. "It was lucky I didn't crack my skull." He laughed ruefully. "Jonesy always said I was hardheaded, and I guess he's right."
"That makes three of us," Honey declared. "First I cut my knee, then Trixie hit her head on a rock, and now you topple off a ladder. What's going to happen next?"
"Nothing," Trixie said. "Bad things always go in threes, so the jinx is over."
"I'm not so sure of that." Honey was counting on her fingers. "Jupiter ran away with you. I almost got run over by the laundry truck, and the dog chased us down the lake."
"Well, that's just another set of threes," Jim said cheerfully.
"How about the dog running after me a little while ago?" Honey demanded. "Doesn't that start off still another set?"
Trixie shrugged. "Have it your way. Two more awful things are going to happen to us."
Honey looked hurt and said quietly, "What I'm trying to say is that I don't think Jim ought to climb up that ladder again today. He might get dizzy after such a bad fall."
"You're right." Jim shook his head vigorously. "I can still hear bells ringing in my ears. Anyway, the light's fading. It'll be pitch black up there with the windows as coated with dirt as they are. We wouldn't be able to see a thing."
"That's right." Trixie was sorry she had made fun of Honey. "I really ought to go home and help Mother with supper. I'll bring up a couple of flashlights, and we can explore tomorrow morning."
As the girls strolled down the path to the hollow, Honey said, "I know you think I'm silly to be so superstitious, but-"
"I don't," Trixie interrupted hastily. "I'm pretty superstitious myself. I wouldn't walk under a ladder for anything, and as for black cats!" She laughed. "One ran across the road in front of our car once, and Dad went into a ditch trying to avoid it. He broke a spring, so now we're all superstitious about black cats."
"It's more than that with me," Honey said solemnly. "I just have the most peculiar feeling that something awful's going to happen. I don't really believe in premonitions or dreams, but, after all, I had a nightmare about something attacking me and something did."
Trixie glanced at her curiously. "That's so," she admitted. "What's this peculiar feeling like? What do you think's going to happen?"
Honey shivered. "I don't know. But it's connected with that creepy old house, somehow. All the time I'm up there, I feel like looking over my shoulder to see what's behind me. It's horrid, and I suppose it's just because I'm such a sissy, but-"
"You're not a sissy," Trixie broke in. "I wish you'd stop saying that all the time. I think you're great. Honest. I never heard of anyone going down such a steep hill on a bike the very first day, and the way you swam after that boat when your knees must have been knocking together the way mine were. By the way," she finished, "how is that knee of yours?"
"Oh, oh," Honey said. "I forgot to put another bandage on it after we went in swimming."
"Well, don't forget to put one on tomorrow morning," Trixie said as she stopped at the mailbox at the end of the driveway. "And you'd better wear a knee pad, too, if we're going in for the papers."
Bobby was well enough to sit up and play checkers with his father on Sunday morning. "Hurry up and bring back the funnies," he ordered Trixie from the window as she and Honey set off on their bikes.
The girls stopped long enough at the little Glen Road store to examine the New York papers thoroughly, and they were relieved to find no mention in them of old Frayne. Trixie introduced Honey to the storekeeper. "Her family just bought the Manor House on the hill above ours, Mr. Lytell," she explained.
"Is that so?" Mr. Lytell pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "Hear your other neighbor, Mr. Frayne, is pretty sick, Trixie."
"I guess he's dying," Trixie said and started to move away.
"Just a minute." The storekeeper came out from behind the counter. "You girls had better pick up a stick on the way home. There's a stray dog loose around here. A mean-looking cur. Saw him early the other morning when I was riding my old nag through the woods across the road from your place, Trixie. Saw something else, too." He took off his glasses and began polishing them with his handkerchief. "Smoke rising from the Mansion. You girls aren't fooling around up there building campfires, are you? That old wreck would burn like dry timber if it caught fire."
He looked up suddenly, and Trixie knew her face was bright red. "Oh, no, Mr. Lytell," she said hastily. "I wouldn't light a match anywhere in the woods or fields after the fire we had summer before last."
He looked at her suspiciously and grunted. "Smoke doesn't rise by itself."
"Whew!" Trixie gasped as they got on their bikes. "I forgot all about Mr. Lytell. We'd better warn Jim not to build any more fires."
"It's lucky he thought it was us," Honey said. "Otherwise, he might have investigated and discovered Jim-,'
They coasted down the hill to the Belden driveway, Trixie riding no hands, no feet. "At the rate you're going, you'll be doing this yourself as soon as your knee heals," she told Honey.
"Well, I'm not going to try it for a long time," Honey said. "So much happened yesterday I'm beginning to think it must have been Friday the thirteenth." She waited in the garage where they parked their bikes while Trixie brought the papers down to the terrace where Mr. and Mrs. Belden were having coffee.
"I'll take the comics up to Bobby," she said. "Then, can I fool around with Honey till lunchtime?"
Mrs. Belden nodded. "It's much too hot to work in the garden."
"You've been doing a good job with the chickens, Trixie," her father said. "And you deserve a day off; but I'd like to take your mother for a drive this afternoon, so will you sit with Bobby?"
"Sure, Dad." Trixie hurried into the house and upstairs.
Bobby was blowing bubbles through a straw into his grape Juice, but he handed the glass to Trixie and pounced upon the comics.
As she was leaving the room, Trixie picked up t
he flashlight which was on the top of the bookshelf. "Hey!" Bobby howled. "Where're you going with my flashlight? You put that right back, Trixie Belden. You wouldn't let me play with the one you got for your birthday, so I won't let you play with mine."
"It's not yours," Trixie said impatiently. "It's Dad's. And I'm not going to play with it. I just want to borrow it for a little while."
"Is so mine. Daddy said so last night," Bobby insisted loudly and petulantly. "Hey! I know where you're going. You're going off 'sploring again."
"Sh-h!" Trixie put a warning finger to her lips. Bobby threw himself back on the pillows, wailing at the top of his lungs: "I wanna go 'sploring, too. My toe's all better now. I don't wanna stay here in bed. I wanna go sploring!"
Trixie could hear her mother hurrying up the stairs to see why Bobby was crying, and she whispered desperately, "Please be quiet, Bobby. If you're quiet, I'll read the funnies to you all afternoon. Promise."
Immediately, the little boy's plump face was wreathed in smiles. "It's a see-crud, isn't it, Trixie? Your see-crud and my see-crud. But you gotta read Peter rabbit to me three times or I'll tell."
"All right," Trixie promised as she hurried out of the room.
"Lunch at one-thirty," Mrs. Belden called after her. "And don't be late. I'm roasting a turkey."
"Gosh," Trixie groaned as she joined Honey in the garage. "Bobby was on the verge of telling Moms we're exploring the Miser's Mansion. I had to promise to read to him all afternoon to keep him quiet."
"What a shame," Honey said sympathetically. "That means you can't go riding with Jim and me." Trixie tried to shrug away her disappointment. "It doesn't matter. You two will have more fun without me until I learn to ride better."
"That's not true," Honey broke in generously. "You're doing very well, Trixie. Regan told me this morning that you'd be ready for jumping in another week or two."
"Golly." Trixie stopped in the middle of the path, so thrilled she could hardly speak. "Do you really think he meant it, Honey?" she asked humbly.
The Secret of the Mansion Page 8