The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  The driver, hunched over on the seat, was slapping his hands together to keep them warm.

  “Why, that looks like Old Whiskers himself,” thought Penny. “It is Peter Jasko.”

  The observation served only to remind her of their unpleasant meeting. Since being so discourteously ejected from the Jasko property Penny had not ventured back. Knowing that the old man was away she felt sorely tempted to again visit the locality.

  “I guess I ought not to take the time,” she decided regretfully. “Mr. Glasser will be fretting for his paper.”

  Making a quick trip down the mountainside, Penny swung into the village. Mrs. Downey had told her that she would be able to get the newspapers at the Pine Top Cafe where a boy named Benny Smith had an agency.

  Entering the restaurant, she glanced about but saw no one who was selling papers. Finally, she ventured to ask the proprietor if she had come to the right place.

  “This is the right place,” he agreed cheerfully. “Benny went home a little while ago.”

  “Then how do I get the papers for Mrs. Downey’s lodge?”

  “Guess you’re out of luck,” he replied. “They didn’t come in today.”

  “But I saw the plane.”

  “The plane got through all right. I don’t know what was wrong. Somehow the papers weren’t put aboard.”

  Penny turned away in disappointment. She had made the long trip to the village for no purpose. While she did not mind for herself, she knew that Mr. Glasser and the other guests were likely to be annoyed. After a day of confinement indoors they looked forward to news from the outside world.

  “It’s strange the papers didn’t come,” she mused as she started back to the Downey lodge. “This isn’t the first time they’ve failed to arrive either.”

  Penny climbed steadily for a time and then sat down on a log to rest a moment. She was not far from the Jasko cabin. By making her own trail through the woods she could reach it in a very few minutes.

  A mischievous idea leaped into her mind, fairly teasing to be put into effect. What fun to climb the forbidden barbed wire fence and honeycomb Mr. Jasko’s field with ski tracks! She could visualize his annoyance when he returned home to learn that a mysterious skier had paid him a visit.

  “He oughtn’t to be so mean,” she said aloud to justify herself. “It will serve him right for trying to frighten folks with shotguns!”

  Penny fastened on her skis and glided off through the woods. She kept her directions straight and soon emerged into a clearing to find herself in view of the Jasko cabin. Drawing near the barbed wire fence she stopped short and stared.

  “Why, that old scamp! He really did it!”

  A new strand of wire had been added to the fence, making it many inches higher. Penny’s suggestion, offered as a joke, had been acted upon by Peter Jasko. Not even an expert ski jumper could hope to clear the improved barrier. Any person who came unwittingly down the steep slope must take a disastrous tumble at the base of the fence.

  “This settles it,” thought Penny grimly. “My conscience is perfectly clear now.”

  She rolled under the fence and surveyed the unblemished expanse of snowy field with the eye of a mechanical draftsman.

  “I may as well be honest about it and sign my name,” she chuckled.

  Starting in at the far corner of the field she made a huge double-edged “P” with her long runners. It took a little ingenuity to figure out an “E” but two “N’s” were fairly easy to execute. She finished “Y” off with a flourish and cocked her head sideways to view her handiwork.

  “Not bad, not bad at all,” she congratulated herself. “Only I’ve used up too much space. We’ll have to have a big Penny and a little Parker.”

  She ran off a “P” and an “A” but even her limber body was not equal to the contortion required for an“R.” In the process of making a neat curve she suddenly lost her balance and toppled over in an ungainly heap.

  “Oh, now I’ve done it!” she moaned, slowly picking herself up. “All my wonderful artistry gone for nothing. ‘Parker’ looks like a big smudge!”

  A sound, suspiciously suggesting a muffled shout of laughter, reached Penny’s ears. She glanced quickly about. No one was in sight. The windows of the cabin were deserted.

  “I think I’ll be getting out of here,” she decided. “If Old Whiskers should come back this wouldn’t be a healthy place to practice handwriting.”

  Penny dug in her poles and glided toward the fence. In the act of rolling under the barbed wires, she suddenly froze motionless. She had heard a cry and this time there was no doubt in her mind as to the direction from which the sound had come. Her startled gaze focused upon the cabin amid the trees.

  “Help! Help!” called a shrill, half muffled voice. “Come back, and let me out of my prison!”

  CHAPTER 10

  LOCKED IN THE CABIN

  Penny hesitated, and as the call was repeated, went slowly back toward the cabin. She could see no one.

  “Up here!” shouted the voice.

  Glancing toward the second story windows, Penny saw a girl standing there, her face pressed to the pane.

  “Peter Jasko’s granddaughter!” thought Penny. “And she must have seen me decorating the place with ski tracks.”

  However, the other girl was only concerned with her own predicament. She smiled and motioned for Penny to come directly under the window.

  “Can you help me get out of here?” she called down.

  “You’re not locked in?” inquired Penny in astonishment.

  “I certainly am! My grandfather did it. He fastened the door of the loft.”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Oh, not very long,” the girl answered impatiently,“but I’m sick of it! Will you help me out of here?”

  “How?”

  “Grandfather always hides the key to the outside door in the woodshed. It should be hanging on a nail by the window.”

  Penny hardly knew what to do. It was one thing to annoy Peter Jasko by making a few ski tracks in his yard, but quite another to antagonize him in more serious ways. For all she could tell, he might have locked the girl in the cabin as a punishment for some wrongdoing.

  “Does your grandfather often leave you like this?” she asked dubiously.

  “Always when there’s snow on the ground,” came the surprising answer. “Oh, please let me out of this hateful place! Don’t be such a goody-good!”

  To be accused of being a “goody-good” was a novel experience for Penny. But instead of taking offense she laughed and started toward the woodshed.

  “On a nail by the window!” the girl shouted after her. “If it isn’t there look on the shelf by the door.”

  Penny found the key and came back. Taking off her cumbersome skis, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the cabin. The room was rather cold for the fire had nearly gone out. Despite a bareness of furniture, the place had a comfortable appearance. Snowshoes decorated the walls along with a deer head and an out-dated calendar. There was a cook stove, a homemade table, chairs, and a cot.

  “Do hurry up!” called the impatient voice from above. “Climb the steps.”

  At the far end of the room a rickety, crudely constructed ladder ascended to a rectangular trap door in the ceiling. Mounting it, Penny investigated the fastening, a stout plug of wood. She turned it and pushed up the heavy door. Instantly, it was seized from above and pulled out of the way.

  Head and shoulders through the opening, Penny glanced about curiously. The room under the roof certainly did not look like a prison cell. It was snug and warm, with curtains at the windows and books lining the wall shelves. The floor was covered with a bright colored rag rug. There was a comfortable looking bed, a rocker and even a dressing table.

  “Thanks for letting me out.”

  Penny turned to gaze at the girl who stood directly behind her. She was not very pretty, for her nose was far too blunt and her teeth a trifle uneven. One could see
a faint resemblance to Peter Jasko.

  “You’re welcome, I guess,” replied Penny, but with no conviction. “I hope your grandfather won’t be too angry.”

  “Oh, he won’t know about it,” the girl answered carelessly. “I see you know who I am—Sara Jasko.”

  “My name is Penny Parker.”

  “I guessed the Penny part. I saw you trying to write it in the snow. You don’t believe in signs either, do you?”

  “I didn’t have any right to trespass.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. Grandfather is an old fuss-budget. But deep down inside he’s rather nice.”

  “Why did he lock you up here?”

  “It’s a long story,” sighed Sara. “I’ll tell you about it later. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Penny backed down the ladder. The amazing granddaughter of Peter Jasko followed, taking the steps as nimbly as a monkey.

  Going to a closet, Sara pulled out a wind-breaker, woolen cap, and a stub-toed pair of high leather shoes which she began to lace up.

  “You’re not aiming to run away?” Penny asked uneasily.

  “Only for an hour or so. This snow is too beautiful to waste. But you’ll have to help me get back to my prison.”

  “I don’t know what this is all about. Suppose you tell me, Sara.”

  “Oh, Grandfather is funny,” replied the girl, digging in the closet again for her woolen gloves. “He doesn’t trust me out of his sight when there’s snow on the ground. Today he had to go up the mountain to get a load of wood so he locked me in.”

  “What has snow to do with it?”

  “Why, everything! You must have heard about Grandfather. He hates skiing.”

  “Oh, and you like to ski,” said Penny, “is that it?”

  “I adore it! My father, Bret Jasko, was a champion.”Sara’s animated face suddenly became sober. “He was killed on this very mountain. Grandfather never recovered from the shock.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” murmured Penny sympathetically.

  “It happened ten years ago while my father was skiing. Ever since then Grandfather has had an almost fanatical hatred of the hotel people. And he is deathly afraid I’ll get hurt in some way. He forbids me to ski even on the easy slopes.”

  “But you do it anyway?”

  “Of course. I slip away whenever I can,” Sara admitted cheerfully. “Skiing is in my blood. I couldn’t give it up.”

  “And you don’t mind deceiving your grandfather?”

  “You don’t understand. There’s no reasoning with him. Each year he gets a little more set in his ways. He knows that I slip away to ski, and that’s why he locks me up. Otherwise, Grandfather is a dear. He’s taken care of me since my father died.”

  Sara wriggled into her awkward-fitting coat, wrapped a red scarf about her throat and started for the door.

  “Coming, Penny?”

  “I haven’t promised yet that I will help you get back into your cubby-hole.”

  “But you will,” said Sara confidently.

  “I suppose so,” sighed Penny. “Nevertheless, I don’t particularly like this.”

  They stepped out of the cabin into the blinding sunlight. The storm had stopped, but the wind blew a gust of snow from the roof into their faces.

  “My skis are hidden in the woods,” said Sara. “We’ll walk along the fence so my footprints won’t be so noticeable.”

  “The place is pretty well marked up now,” Penny observed dryly. “Your grandfather would have to be blind not to see them.”

  “Yes, but they’re your tracks, not mine,” grinned Sara. “Besides, this strong wind is starting to drift the snow.”

  They followed the barbed wire fence to the woods. Sara went straight to an old log and from its hollow interior drew out a pair of hickory jumping skis.

  “Let’s walk up to Mrs. Downey’s lodge,” she proposed. “Her chute is a dandy, but most of the guests are afraid to use it.”

  “I haven’t tried it myself,” admitted Penny. “It looks higher than Pike’s Peak.”

  “Oh, you have plenty of nerve,” returned Sara carelessly. “I saw you take Grandfather’s barbed wire entanglements.”

  “That was a matter of necessity.”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” laughed Sara, linking arms with Penny and pulling her along at a fast pace. “I’ll teach you a few tricks.”

  They climbed the slope steadily until forced to pause for a moment to catch their breath.

  “Mrs. Downey isn’t using the bob-sled run this year, is she?” Sara inquired curiously.

  “I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “She has a fine one on her property, but it’s out of sight from the lodge. I guess there haven’t been enough guests this season to make it worth while. Too bad. Bob-sled racing is even more fun than skiing.”

  Coming within view of the Downey lodge, Penny observed that a few of the more hardy guests had taken advantage of the lull in the storm, and were out on the slopes, falling, picking themselves up, falling again.

  “I have to run into the house a minute,” Penny excused herself. “I’ll be right back.”

  She found Mrs. Downey in the kitchen and reported to her that she had been unable to purchase papers in the village.

  “The plane came in, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but for some reason the papers weren’t put on.”

  “I wonder if the Fergus hotel managed to get any?”

  “I don’t see how they could.”

  “It’s happened before,” declared Mrs. Downey.

  “Time after time we miss our papers, and then I learn later that the Fergus hotel guests had them. I don’t understand it, Penny.”

  “Shall I tell Mr. Glasser?”

  “I’ll do it,” sighed Mrs. Downey. “He’s going to be more irritated than ever now.”

  Penny went outside to find Sara waiting impatiently for her. The girl had strapped on her skis, and was using two sharp-pointed sticks for poles.

  “Ready to try the jump, Penny?”

  “No, but I’ll watch you.”

  “There’s nothing to it, Penny,” encouraged Sara as they climbed side by side. “Just keep relaxed and be sure to have your skis pointing upward while you’re in the air.”

  As it became evident that the girls intended to try the chute, a little crowd of spectators gathered on the slope below to watch.

  “I’ll go first,” said Sara, “and after I’ve landed, you come after me.”

  “I’ll think it over,” shivered Penny.

  “Don’t think too long, or you’ll never try it. Just start.”

  Sara bent to examine her bindings. Then in a graceful crouch she shot down the hill and with a lifting of her arms soared over the take-off. She made a perfectly poised figure in mid-air and an effortless landing on the slope below, finishing off with a christiana turn.

  “She’s good!” thought Penny. “I’ll try it, too, even if they carry me off on a stretcher!”

  In a wave of enthusiasm she pushed off, keeping her arms behind her. As the edge of the chute loomed up, she swung them forward and sprang into the air. But something went wrong. In an instant she was off balance, her arms swinging wildly in a futile attempt to straighten her body into position.

  The gully appeared to be miles below her. Panic surged over Penny and her muscles became rigid. She was going to take a hard fall.

  “Relax! Relax!” screamed a shrill voice.

  With a supreme effort Penny drew back one ski and bent her knees. She felt a hard jar, and in amazement realized that she had landed on her feet. Her elation was short lived, for the next instant she collapsed and went sliding on down the slope.

  Sara ran to help her up.

  “Hurt?”

  “Not a bit,” laughed Penny. “What a spectacle I must have made!”

  “Your jump wasn’t half bad. Next time you’ll do much better.”

  “I’ll never make one as good as yours,” Penny said
enviously. Seeing Francine standing near, she turned to the reporter and exclaimed: “Did you watch Sara’s jump? Wasn’t it magnificent?”

  “You’re both lucky you weren’t injured.” Francine walked over to the two girls. She stared at Sara’s odd looking costume. “You’re not a guest here?” she inquired.

  “No,” answered Sara.

  “Nor at the Fergus hotel?”

  “I live a ways down the mountain.”

  Francine regarded her coldly. “You’re the Jasko girl, aren’t you, whose grandfather will not allow skiers on his property?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Since you Jaskos are so sign conscious I should think you might obey them yourself! Take a glance at that one over on the tree. Unless my eyesight is failing it reads: ‘Only guests of the hotel may use these slopes.’”

  CHAPTER 11

  A NEWSPAPER MYSTERY

  Penny stared at Francine, for a moment not believing that she had meant the remark seriously. As she comprehended that the girl indeed was serious, she exclaimed in quick protest:

  “Oh, Francine, what an attitude to take! Sara is my guest. I’m sure Mrs. Downey doesn’t mind.”

  “I’ll go,” offered Sara in a quiet voice. “I never dreamed I would offend anyone by being here.”

  “I’m not particularly offended,” replied Francine defensively. “It merely seems reasonable to me that if you won’t allow others on your property you shouldn’t trespass yourself.”

  “Sara had nothing to do with that sign on her grandfather’s land,” declared Penny. “Francine, you must have jumped out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  Sara had turned to walk away. Penny caught her hand, trying to detain her.

  “Wait, I’ll run into the lodge and ask Mrs. Downey. But I know very well it will be all right for you to stay.”

  Sara hesitated, and might have consented, save at that instant the three girls heard the faint tinkle of bells. A sled loaded with wood came into view around a curve of the mountain road.

  “That’s grandfather on his way home!” exclaimed Sara. “I must get back there before he learns I’ve been away! Hurry, Penny!”

  With several quick thrusts of her sticks, she started down the trail which led to the Jasko cabin. Penny followed, but she could not overtake her companion. Sara skied with a reckless skill which defied imitation. While Penny was forced to stem, she took the rough track with no perceptible slackening of speed, and had divested herself of skis by the time her companion reached the woods.