The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

Sara studied the run, and walked down as far as Horseshoe Curve.

  “It’s fast all right,” she conceded. “But that will only make it the more exciting. Brakes in good order, Jake?”

  “I tested every sled last night after they were brought to the shop.”

  “Then we’ll have no trouble,” said Sara confidently. “Round up the passengers, Jake, and we’ll start at once.”

  The sled was hauled to the starting line. Sara took her place behind the wheel, with Penny riding the end position to handle the brake. Their first passengers were to be a middle aged married couple. Sara gave them padded helmets to wear.

  “What are these for?” the woman asked nervously. “The toboggan slide isn’t dangerous, is it?”

  “No, certainly not,” answered Sara. “We haven’t had a spill this year. Hang tight on the curves. Give me plenty of brake when I call for it, Penny.”

  She signaled for the push off. They started fast and gathered speed on the straightaway. Penny wondered how Sara could steer for her own eyes blurred as they shot down the icy trough. They never had traveled at such high speed before.

  “Brakes!” shouted Sara.

  Penny obeyed the order, and felt the sled slow down as the brake claw dug into the snow and ice. They raced on toward the first wide curve, and swung around it, high on the banked wall, too close to the outside edge for comfort.

  “Brakes!” called Sara again.

  Once more the iron claw dug in, sending up a spray of snow behind the racing sled. And then there came a strange, pinging sound.

  For the briefest instant Penny did not comprehend its significance. Then, as the sled leaped ahead faster than ever and the geyser of snow vanished, she realized what had happened. The brakes were useless! A rod had snapped! They were roaring down the track with undiminished speed, and Horseshoe Curve, the most dangerous point on the run, lay directly ahead.

  CHAPTER 15

  IN THE TOOL HOUSE

  Sara, her face white and tense, turned her head for a fraction of a second and then, crouching lower, kept her eyes glued on the track. She knew what had happened, and she knew, too, that they never could hope to make the Horseshoe Curve. Even a miracle of steering would not save them from going over the wall of ice at terrific speed.

  The two passengers, frozen with fright, gripped the side ropes, and kept their heads down. It did not even occur to them that they could save themselves by rolling off. For that matter, they did not realize that the brake had broken.

  Penny, in end position, could have jumped easily, A fall into the soft snow beside the track would be far less apt to cause serious injury than an upset from the high wall of the curve. But it never occurred to her to try to save herself.

  There was only one slim chance of preventing a bad accident, a costly one for herself, and Penny took it. As the perpendicular wall of Horseshoe Curve loomed up ahead, she wrapped her arm about the side rope of the sled and hurled herself off. Her entire body was given a violent jerk. A sharp pain shot through her right arm, but she gritted her teeth and held on.

  Penny’s trailing body, acting as a brake, slowed down the sled and kept it from upsetting as it swept into the curve. Sideways it climbed the wall of snow. It crept to the very edge, hovered there a breathless moment, then fell back to overturn at the flat side of the curve.

  Untangling herself from a pile of arms and legs, Sara began to help her passengers to their feet.

  “Penny, are you hurt?” she asked anxiously. “That was a courageous thing to do! You saved us from a bad accident.”

  Spectators, thrilled by the display of heroism, came running to the scene. Penny, every muscle screaming with pain, rolled over in the snow. Gripping her wrenched arm, she tried to get to her feet and could not.

  “Penny, you are hurt!” cried Sara.

  “It’s my arm, more than anything else,” Penny said, trying to keep her face from twisting. “I—I hope it’s not broken.”

  Willing hands raised her to her feet and supported her. Penny was relieved to discover that she could lift her injured arm.

  “It’s only wrenched,” she murmured. “Anyone else hurt, Sara?”

  “You’re the only casualty,” Sara replied warmly. “But if you hadn’t used yourself as a brake we might all have been badly injured. You ought to get a hot bath as quickly as you can before your muscles begin to stiffen.”

  “They’ve begun already,” replied Penny ruefully.

  She took a step as if to start for the lodge, only to hesitate.

  “I wonder what happened to the brake? I heard something give way.”

  Sara overturned the sled and took one glance. “A broken rod.”

  “I thought Jake checked over everything last night.”

  “That’s what he said,” returned Sara. “We’ll ask him about it.”

  The workman, white-faced and frightened, came running down the hill.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “Couldn’t you slow down or was it too icy?”

  “No brakes,” Sara answered laconically. “I thought you tested them.”

  “I did. They were in good order last night.”

  “Take a look at this.” Sara pointed to the broken rod.

  Jake bent down to examine it. When he straightened he spoke no word, but the expression of his face told the two girls that he did not hold himself responsible for the mishap.

  “There’s something funny about this,” he muttered. “I’ll take the sled to the shop and have a look at it.”

  “I’ll go along with you,” declared Sara.

  “And so will I,” added Penny quickly.

  “You really should get a hot bath and go to bed,” advised Sara. “If you don’t you may not be able to walk tomorrow.”

  “I’ll go to bed in a little while,” Penny answered significantly.

  Followed by the two girls, Jake pulled the sled to the tool house behind the lodge. Sara immediately closed and bolted the door from the inside so that curious persons would not enter.

  “Now let’s really have a look at that brake rod,” she said. “Notice anything queer about it, Penny?”

  “I did, and I’m thinking the same thing you are.”

  “See these shiny marks on the steel,” Jake pointed out excitedly. “The rod had been sawed almost in two. Even a little strain on it would make it break.”

  “You’re certain it was in good condition last night?”Sara questioned.

  “Positive,” Jake responded grimly. “I checked over both sleds just before supper last night.”

  “Let’s have a look at the other sled,” proposed Penny.

  An inspection of the brake equipment revealed nothing out of order.

  “Whoever did the trick may have been afraid to damage both sleds for fear of drawing attention to his criminal work,” declared Penny. “But it’s perfectly evident someone wanted us to take a bad spill.”

  “I can’t guess who would try such a trick,” said Sara in perplexity. “Did you lock the tool house last night, Jake?”

  “I always do.”

  “How about the windows?” inquired Penny.

  “I don’t rightly remember,” Jake confessed. “I reckon they’re stuck fast.”

  Penny went over and tested one of the windows. While it was not locked, she could not raise it with her injured arm. Sara tried without any better luck.

  However, as the girls examined the one on the opposite side of the tool house, they discovered that it raised and lowered readily. Tiny pieces of wood were chipped from the outside sill, showing where a blunt instrument had been inserted beneath the sash.

  “This is where the person entered, all right,” declared Penny.

  “I can’t understand who would wish to injure us,” said Sara in a baffled voice. “You’re not known here at Pine Top, and I have no enemies to my knowledge.”

  “Mrs. Downey has them. There are persons who would like to see her out of business. And our bob-sledding parties were growing popular.”


  “They were taking a few guests away from the big hotel,” Sara admitted slowly. “Still, it doesn’t seem possible—”

  She broke off as Penny reached down to pick up a small object which lay on the floor beneath the window.

  “What have you found?” she finished quickly.

  Penny held out a large black button for her to see. A few strands of coarse dark thread still clung to the eyelets.

  “It looks like a button from a man’s overcoat!” exclaimed Sara. “Jake, does this belong to you?”

  The workman glanced at it and shook his head.

  “Not mine.”

  “It probably fell from the coat of the person who damaged our sled,” Penny declared thoughtfully. “Not much of a clue, perhaps, but at least it’s something to go on!”

  CHAPTER 16

  A PUZZLING SOLUTION

  Penny pocketed the button and then with Sara went outside the building to look for additional clues. The girls found only a multitude of footprints in the snow beneath the two windows, for the tool house stood beside a direct path to the nursery slopes.

  “We’ve learned everything we’re going to,” declared Sara. “Penny, I do wish you would get into the house and take your bath. You’re limping worse every minute.”

  “All right, I’ll go. I do feel miserable.”

  “Perhaps you ought to have a doctor.”

  Penny laughed in amusement. “I’ll be brake man on the bob-sled tomorrow as usual.”

  “You’ll be lucky if you’re able to crawl out of bed. Anyway, I doubt if I’ll be able to come myself.”

  “Your grandfather?” asked Penny quickly.

  “Yes, he’s getting suspicious. I’ll have to be more careful.”

  “Why don’t you tell him the truth? It’s really not fair to deceive him. He’s bound to learn the truth sooner or later.”

  “I’m afraid to tell him,” Sara said with a little shiver. “When grandfather is angry you can’t reason with him. I’ll have to run now. I’m later than usual.”

  Penny watched her friend go and then hobbled into the lodge. News of the accident had preceded her, and Mrs. Downey met her at the door. She was deeply troubled until she ascertained for herself that the girl had not been seriously injured.

  “I was afraid something like this would happen,”Mrs. Downey murmured self accusingly. “You know now why I wasn’t very enthusiastic about using the bob-sled run.”

  Penny decided not to tell Mrs. Downey until later how the mishap had occurred. She was feeling too miserable to do much talking, and she knew the truth would only add to the woman’s worries.

  “I can’t say I’m so thrilled about it myself at the moment,” she declared with a grimace. “I feel as stiff as if I were mounted on a mummy board!”

  Mrs. Downey drew a tub of hot water, but it required all of Penny’s athletic prowess to get herself in and out of it. Her right arm was swollen and painful to lift. The skin on one side of her body from hip to ankle had been severely scraped and bruised. She could turn her neck only with difficulty.

  “I do think I should call a doctor from the village,”Mrs. Downey declared as she aided the girl into bed.

  “Please, don’t,” pleaded Penny. “I’ll be as frisky as ever by tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Downey lowered the shades and went away. Left alone, Penny tried to go to sleep, but she was too uncomfortable. Every time she shifted to a new position wracking pains shot through her body.

  “If this isn’t the worst break,” she thought, sinking deep into gloom. “I’ll be crippled for several days at least. No skiing, no bob-sledding. And while I’m lying here on my bed of pain, Francine will learn all about the Green Room.”

  After awhile the warmth of the bed overcame Penny and she slept. She awakened to find Mrs. Downey standing beside her, a tray in her hand.

  “I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” the woman apologized,“but you’ve been sleeping so long. And you’ve had nothing to eat.”

  “I could do with a little luncheon,” mumbled Penny drowsily. “You didn’t need to bother bringing it upstairs.”

  “This is dinner, not luncheon,” corrected Mrs. Downey.

  Penny rolled over and painfully pulled herself to a sitting posture.

  “Then I must have slept hours! What time is it?”

  “Five-thirty. Do you feel better, Penny?”

  “I think I do. From my eyebrows up anyway.”

  While Penny ate her dinner, Mrs. Downey sat beside her and chatted.

  “At least there’s nothing wrong with my appetite,” the girl laughed, rapidly emptying the dishes. “At home Mrs. Weems says I eat like a wolf. Oh, by the way, any mail?”

  “None for you.”

  Penny’s face clouded. “It’s funny no one writes me. Don’t you think I might at least get an advertising circular?”

  “Well, Christmas is coming,” Mrs. Downey said reasonably. “The holiday season always is such a busy time. Folks have their shopping to do.”

  “Not Dad. Usually he just calls up the Personal Shopper at Hobson’s store and says: ‘She’s five-feet three, size twelve and likes bright colors. Send out something done up in gift wrapping and charge to my account.’” Penny sighed drearily. “Then after Christmas I have to take it back and ask for an exchange.”

  “Have you ever tried giving your father a list?” suggested Mrs. Downey, smiling at the description.

  “Often. He nearly always ignores it.”

  “What did you ask him for this year?”

  “Only a new automobile.”

  “Only! My goodness, aren’t your tastes rather expensive?”

  “Oh, he won’t give it to me,” replied Penny. “I’ll probably get a sweater with pink and blue stripes or some dead merchandise the store couldn’t pawn off on anyone except an unsuspecting father.”

  Mrs. Downey laughed as she picked up the tray.

  “I hope your father will be able to get to Pine Top for Christmas.”

  “So do I,” agreed Penny, frowning. “I thought when I wired him that Harvey Maxwell was here he would come right away.”

  “He may have decided it would do no good to contact the man. Knowing Mr. Maxwell I doubt if your father could make any sort of deal with him.”

  “If only he would come here he might be able to learn something which would help his case,” Penny declared earnestly. “Maxwell and Fergus are mixed up in some queer business.”

  Mrs. Downey smiled tolerantly. While she always listened attentively to Penny’s theories and observations, she had not been greatly excited by her tale of the mysterious Green Room. She knew the two men were unscrupulous in a business way and that they were making every effort to force her to give up the lodge, but she could not bring herself to believe they were involved in more serious affairs. She thought that Penny’s great eagerness to prove Harvey Maxwell’s dishonesty had caused her imagination to run riot.

  “Francine Sellberg wouldn’t be at Pine Top if something weren’t in the wind,” Penny went on reflectively. “She followed Ralph Fergus and Maxwell here. And that in itself was rather strange.”

  “How do you mean, Penny?”

  “Fergus must have been having trouble in managing the hotel or he wouldn’t have gone to Riverview to see Maxwell. What he had to say evidently couldn’t be trusted to a letter or a telegram.”

  “Mr. Fergus often absents himself on trips. Now and then he goes to Canada.”

  “I wonder why?” asked Penny alertly.

  “He and Mr. Maxwell have a hotel there, I’ve heard. I doubt if his trips have any particular significance.”

  “Well, at any rate, Fergus brought Maxwell back from Riverview to help him solve some weighty problem. From their talk on the plane, I gathered they were plotting to put you out of business, Mrs. Downey.”

  “I think you are right there, Penny.”

  “But why should your lodge annoy them? You could never take a large number of guests away from their hotel.”r />
  “Ralph Fergus is trying to buy up the entire mountainside,”Mrs. Downey declared bitterly. “He purchased the site of the old mine, and I can’t see what good it will ever do the hotel.”

  “You don’t suppose there’s valuable mineral—”

  “No,” Mrs. Downey broke in with an amused laugh. “The mine played out years ago.”

  “Has Mr. Fergus tried to buy your lodge?”

  “He’s made me two different offers. Both were hardly worth considering. If he comes through with any reasonable proposition I may sell. My future plans depend a great deal upon whether or not Peter Jasko is willing to renew a lease on the ski slopes.”

  “When does the lease expire, Mrs. Downey?”

  “The end of next month. I’ve asked Mr. Jasko to come and see me as soon as he can. However, I have almost no hope he’ll sign a new lease.”

  Mrs. Downey carried the tray to the door. There she paused to inquire: “Anything I can bring you, Penny? A book or a magazine?”

  “No, thank you. But you might give me my portable typewriter. I think I’ll write a letter to Dad just to remind him he still has a daughter.”

  Pulling a table to the bedside, Mrs. Downey placed the typewriter and paper on it before going away. Penny propped herself up with pillows and rolled a blank sheet into the machine.

  At the top of the page she pecked out: “Bulletin.”After the dateline, she began in her best journalistic style, using upper case letters:

  “PENNY PARKER, ATTRACTIVE AND TALENTED DAUGHTER OF ANTHONY PARKER, WHILE RIDING THE TAIL OF A RACING BOB-SLED WAS THROWN FOR A TEN YARD LOSS, SUSTAINING NUMEROUS BRUISES. THE PATIENT IS BEARING HER SUFFERING WITH FORTITUDE AND ANTICIPATES BEING IN CIRCULATION BY GLMLFFLS”

  Penny stared at the last word she had written. Inadvertently, her fingers had struck the wrong letters. She had intended to write “tomorrow.” With an exclamation of impatience she jerked the paper from the machine.

  And then she studied the sentence she had typed with new interest. There was something strangely familiar about the jumbled word, GLMLFFLS.

  “It looks a little like that coded message I found!” she thought excitedly.

  Forgetting her bruises, Penny rolled out of bed. She struck the floor with a moan of anguish. Hobbling over to the dresser, she found the scrap of paper which she had saved, and brought it back to the bed.