“And stay out of our cave!” Trixie added.
Slim stopped at the exit and said contemptuously, “Whose cave? This cave belongs to anyone who wants to explore it. It’s state property.”
“It’s our cave,” Trixie insisted. “It’s on property that belongs to my Uncle Andrew. He said we could call it our cave.”
“You’d better talk to the law,” Slim said.
“You’re a fine one to mention the law,” Trixie said angrily. “You’ll have some explaining to do to the sheriff about the fire that burned Mrs. Moore’s property. If anyone had been—”
“I didn’t set that fire!” Slim said. “There ain’t nobody can prove I did. That guy in the ghost cabin did it. He ain’t no ghost. He don’t keep chickens in that chicken house of his’n. He keeps gasoline rags. If you don’t believe me, go and look—lessen you’re too scared,” he added insolently. “I ain’t afraid of you or the sheriff. I ain’t afraid of nobody.”
Slim started through the passage to the exit in the other room. “And I can come into this cave anytime I want to,” he added. “When I signed up so’s I could get the reward for the fish, I was told that I could try and find them in any cave around here. What do you think of that?”
“They meant if you had the owner’s permission,”
Trixie said, “and you’ll never get permission to explore Bob-White Cave.”
“Who needs permission?” Slim asked sarcastically and disappeared into the short crawlway.
“Now I don’t know what to believe,” Mart said. “If there are gasoline rags at the ghost cabin, then—”
“I’d have to see them to believe Slim,” Jim said. “We’ll tell your Uncle Andrew, and the sheriff will look into it. After last night, I’m not in favor of any more amateur sleuthing.”
“Well, I am,” Trixie said, undaunted. “I’m not misled by Slim’s talk about the gasoline rags. Did you happen to hear what he said about registering? Do you suppose we have to register before we can qualify for the reward?”
“It sure looks like it,” Brian said. “If we’d had any sense, we’d have found out all the facts from that man from the magazine the last time we were in White Hole Springs.”
Trixie picked up the bait bucket and threw the nylon rope over her shoulder. “It’s just one more hurdle,” she said resignedly. “If we have to register, we have to register. I just hope we’re not too late.”
Wild-Goose Chase • 14
AREN T YOU BACK pretty early?” Uncle Andrew asked. “Did you get discouraged? Give up?”
“No!” they exploded in one voice. Then they told Uncle Andrew and Mrs. Moore what had happened.
“It’s way past time that I talked to Sam Owens,” Uncle Andrew said. “I guess I underestimated Slim’s determination. I thought he’d be far away from here by now—scared of what the neighbors would do after that fire. Now he’s trying to throw the blame on someone else. I’ll have to go to town right away.”
May we go, too, so we can register?” Trixie asked. “If Mrs. Moore says Linnie may take the mule wagon and drive us,” Uncle Andrew said.
“Of course,” Mrs. Moore said. “More than that, I’ll go along as far as the Hawkinses’ cabin. Minnie Hawkins and I are piecing a quilt together.”
“I just thought of something queer,” Trixie said as they bounced along in the wagon behind Shem and Japheth. “Slim didn’t know that bait bucket had been returned.”
“No,” Mart said slowly. “He didn’t. That’s odd.”
“Did you hear what he said, Trixie, when he kicked the bait bucket over?” Honey asked.
“I just heard him snarl. Did he say something?”
“I’m almost sure I heard him say under his breath, ‘That old coot!’ ”
“Yipe!” Mart yelled and almost fell out of the wagon. “The plot thickens.”
As they drove past the ghost cabin, it looked deserted. “If we only had time, I wish we could stop here a minute,” Trixie said. “I know Slim was lying about those gasoline rags in the shed over there, but I’d like to look around.”
“We’ll have to go as fast as the mules can go to get to White Hole Springs in time so I can see the sheriff,” Uncle Andrew said.
“And so we can be sure to register,” Honey reminded Trixie. “I’ve seen enough of that old haunted cabin to last a whole lifetime!”
“That’s the way I feel, too,” Linnie said, and she urged the mules on. “You remember Mama said it didn’t pay to say you didn’t believe in ghosts. Didn’t you, Mama?”
“We have too many ghosts in these hills,” Mrs. Moore said. “It’s a pity that ghost cabin didn’t burn down instead of my chicken house and cow shed.”
“Even where we live, some of the old Dutch families believe in ghosts,” Mart said. “They call them poltergeists.”
“That’s right,” Trixie said. “They do. I never did. The Dutch people blame poltergeists when their cattle stray or a barn burns or they find their furniture broken up.”
“When things like that happen in the Ozarks, we know it’s the work of ghosts and witches,” Mrs. Moore said. “I hope they’ve finished their evildoing now and will let us alone at the lodge. Here’s the Hawkins place. I’ll leave you. Their young people have gone berrying, so just their mother is at home.”
She got out, and the wagon continued on its way.
In town, they let Uncle Andrew out at the sheriff’s office, then went to the motel where the editor was staying.
This time they went boldly to the desk and inquired for him.
“Right over there,” the clerk said, pointing. ,
A dark-haired young man was scribbling away at a table. He raised his head as they approached.
“Are we too late?” Trixie asked breathlessly.
“Are you too late for what?” the young man inquired.
“To register for the reward,” Trixie answered. “We’ve found one fish, and I’m sure we can find the rest of them if we aren’t too late.”
“You’ve found one?” the man asked, immediately interested. “A blind fish?”
“The partly blind one,” Trixie explained. “But we’ll get the others if there’s time. We didn’t know we had to register.”
“You don’t. What made you think you did?”
The Bob-Whites looked at one another. “That’s another one of Slim’s lies,” Trixie whispered. “He wanted to get us out of the way this afternoon. Aren’t we dummies to fall for anything he’d say?”
“I beg your pardon,” the man said.
“Oh, nothing,” Trixie said hastily. “Are there very many people trying to find the specimens?”
“I haven’t any way of knowing,” the editor told them. “Judging from the inquiries I’ve had, I’d say there may be a dozen or so.”
Trixie’s face fell. “Are there any rules we have to follow? All we know is what we read in your magazine article.”
“That article said it all,” the man answered. “I’ll be greatly surprised if the Scientific Digest has a chance to pay the reward. The specimens we want are really pretty rare. You’re the second person, though, to report finding a fish.”
“Slim!” they chorused.
“He doesn’t have it now,” Trixie whispered. Out loud she asked, “Do you happen to know anyone named Sanderson?”
“No, I don’t remember hearing that name.”
“Oh, dear. May I ask you another question?”
“Fire away!”
Trixie never could understand why so many people found her earnestness amusing. “Do you know if there is any way of protecting our interests in a cave? I mean, if we find a place that seems to be exactly where the specimens can be found, can we have exclusive rights to it?”
“If the property belongs to you, or if you have the owner’s permission to explore it, then you can have exclusive rights. I know of no other way.”
Trixie’s face brightened. “We do have the owner’s permission to explore the cave where we found the fish. D
oes that mean you wouldn’t consider fish from our cave unless we brought them to you?”
This time everyone laughed. “I’m afraid I’d have no way of recognizing fish from your cave,” the man said. “In a country as wild as this seems to be, I guess you would just have to be prepared to defend your rights.”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do!” Trixie said. Then she said to Linnie and the Bob-Whites, “Just think what Slim may be doing, now that he’s sent us on this wild-goose chase. Let’s go and pick up Uncle Andrew and see what he’s found out.”
They said good-bye to the editor, then jumped into the wagon and drove over to the sheriff’s office.. Uncle Andrew was sitting inside talking to two men.
“Slim just wanted to get us out of the way,” Trixie told him. “We didn’t have to register at all.”
“That’s a shame,” Uncle Andrew said. He left the men he was talking with and joined the Bob-Whites and Linnie. “The sheriff’s out, but they think he’ll be back soon. Here’s a bundle of mail.”
Trixie distributed the letters, then asked, “Do we have to wait till he comes back, Uncle Andrew?”
“I want to wait. That’s the main reason I wanted to come to town. What’s the big rush?”
“It’s just that Slim tricked us so he could hunt around Bob-White Cave without anyone disturbing him. He knows just where we were hunting and just where we found the one ghost fish. We have to get back to the cave right away.”
Uncle Andrew took out his watch. “When we get home, it’ll be too late for any more cave hunting today. And don’t get any ideas this time about slipping out at night, Trixie. I’ll be prepared for that. Here’s the sheriff now. Hi, Sam.”
“Hi, Andy!”
The sheriff greeted Linnie and the Bob-Whites warmly. “Do you need any more pickaxes or ropes?” he asked. “Or a magnifying glass for the detectives? There, there, Trixie, don’t turn up your pretty nose. I think you’re quite a girl. What can I do for you now?”
“It’s about Slim Sanderson,” Uncle Andrew said and told the story of Slim’s actions and of the suspicion that he had set the disastrous fire.
Mr. Owens sat awhile, stroking his chin. “That’s a pretty serious charge, Andy,” he said. “Slim’s been up to quite a lot of mischief since his folks moved out, but nothing like setting fire to a widow’s cabin. It’d take a low-down skunk to do that.”
“We think that’s a pretty good description of Slim,” Uncle Andrew said. “I think the fire was meant to destroy the lodge as revenge on the young people and me for firing Slim as guide. Then the wind changed, and Mrs. Moore’s buildings went up in flames instead.”
“That’s logical thinking,” Sam Owens said. “But what puzzles me is that Slim was born and raised around here, and he knows what the penalty would be for setting any kind of fire.”
“He swore he didn’t do it. He said the old man who lives in the ghost cabin did it.”
“That’s an unlikely story. I met the man in the woods once and talked to him. He seemed to be harmless enough, just sort of bewildered.”
“Slim said he’s crazy and that there are some gasoline-soaked rags right now in a shed on his place.”
“I can find out about that pretty quickly,” the sheriff said. “I’ll need to do some talking with both Slim and the man at the cabin.”
“It’s not a man,” Linnie said positively. “It’s a ghost. He floats through the air. I saw him. These people don’t believe in spirits, Mr. Owens, but you do. The ghost cabin is haunted, and haunts have powers no live person has. You know that.”
“Yes, Linnie, I do. I’ve also found that what’s been laid to ghosts in the past has been done by a live person. Facts are what I’m after, and facts are what I’ll have for you, Andy. Good day.”
Even Shem and Japheth seemed dejected on the way back to the lodge. They plodded along stolidly, their eyes on the ground, their huge shoulders straining ahead of the swaying wagon.
The Bob-Whites were glad when they reached the Hawkinses’ cabin and the children, browned and freckled, ran out. They hadn’t long to visit, for Mrs. Moore turned to wave good-bye to her neighbor and, helped by Jim and Brian, stepped on the axle and into the wagon seat.
“You were later than I thought,” she said. “It’s a good thing I only have to warm up the dinner. What kept you?”
Uncle Andrew gave her a thumbnail sketch of their business in town.
“Minnie Hawkins couldn’t believe what I told her about Slim’s goings-on,” Mrs. Moore said thoughtfully. “It appears to her and me that nobody’s done anything about investigating that Englishman you fished out of the lake and that ghost at the cabin. She didn’t have too good a word to say for Slim, but she thought if he was mixed up in the burning, the Englishman and the ghost were in on it, too.”
As they neared the ghost cabin, Trixie said suddenly, “Can’t we possibly stop for one minute and look in that shed?”
“Not that!” Mrs. Moore said quickly. “I don’t want any more traffic with ghosts.”
“It’s broad daylight, and you can wait here in the wagon, you and Linnie and Uncle Andrew. We just want to take one more look around... please? I have a feeling we should. Just for a minute.”
“Then pull up, Linnie, please. We’re late, but fifteen minutes more isn’t going to make much difference. Just don’t be longer than that, Trixie!”
“We won’t. Thanks a million!” Trixie jumped down from the wagon and was halfway up the winding trail before the others started.
Mrs. Moore, in the wagon, covered her eyes and sat tapping her foot.
“Was your hunch right?” Uncle Andrew asked as the Bob-Whites came running back.
“I’ll say it was!” Trixie said excitedly. “It looks as though Mrs. Hawkins was right. The culprits must be holing up in that ghost cabin. Just down the slope in back, we saw Mr. Glendenning digging away at the rocks with his pickax. He had a magnifying glass, and he kept examining the things he knocked off the cliff.”
“That isn’t any indication that he’d set a fire,” Uncle Andrew said, his eyes twinkling.
“No, it isn’t,” Trixie agreed reluctantly. “But what we found later shows that he’s what they call an accessory after the fact. We saw a gasoline can in the corner of the old shed near the house and, right next to it, a bundle of rags. I brought one along for evidence.” Trixie tossed a dirty rag into the wagon next to Uncle Andrew.
“Phew! It’s soaked with gasoline,” Uncle Andrew said. “Well, that certainly is fire-starting material, Trixie. I’ll take it to Sam Owens.”
“Does that let Slim out?” Honey asked.
“As far as the fire is concerned, maybe,” Trixie said thoughtfully. “But he did steal our fish. I wish we had some way of keeping him out of Bob-White Cave.”
“A way may turn up,” Uncle Andrew said. “There’s more to this whole business than meets the eye.”
Sinkhole Suspense • 15
DID ANYONE NOTICE this note Moms tucked in with the letter we got in town yesterday? I didn’t spot it till just now. Bad news.”
Brian came into the living room, where the other Bob-Whites were assembling their gear, getting ready to go across the lake to the cave.
“I didn’t see any note,” Trixie answered, “just her letter. What is it?”
“She must have added it after she wrote the letter,” Brian said. “We’re going to have to go back home this coming Friday. And that’s just three days from now.”
“Heavens! Three days! We have a thousand things to do here. Why did Moms say we had to go home so soon?” Trixie took the sheet of paper from Brian and read it aloud.
“Your father just brought in the mail, and there was a letter from your Aunt Alicia in Philadelphia. Uncle Mart has to go to the hospital for observation, and she wonders if I could come and stay with her. Of course I telephoned and told her I’d go. He is to go into the hospital next Monday, so I want to be there Saturday. That means I’ll have to ask you to cut shor
t your stay in Missouri. I’m sorry about this, but I know you will understand.
“If you can arrange to fly back from Springfield on Friday, Daddy and Bobby and I will meet the plane. I’m getting lonesome for all of you, and Bobby has been lost without you. When it is possible, send me a telegram to let me know when to expect you.”
“That’s terrible about Uncle Mart,” Trixie said and folded the note. “I guess we really should go back as soon as we can.”
“Friday will be all right, won’t it, Trix, as Moms suggested?” Brian asked. “Your heart is set on collecting those specimens, and, gee... Jim and I did want to have a try for some rocks. What do you think, Uncle Andrew?”
“It’ll be good for your Aunt Alicia to have your mother with her. I think it’s all right to follow her suggestion and leave for home Friday. I’ll be sorry to have you go. I’d been planning a lot of things we could do as soon as Trixie had completed her project. Bill Hawkins was coming over today to help me with the shed for Shem and Japheth, but that can wait. If Linnie will drive me into town, I’ll arrange for your train tickets to Springfield so you can connect with the plane for White Plains. I’ll send a telegram to your parents, too, as soon as I know what flight you’ll be on.”
“Then let’s get going!” Trixie said.
“Get going where?” her uncle asked.
“Across the lake to the cave, after the fish,” Trixie said. “That is, if Slim didn’t get ahead of us while he had us out of the way.”
“Have you lost your mind, Trixie? Have you forgotten how mean that boy can be?”
“No, I haven’t, Uncle Andrew, but what can Slim do, with Jim and Brian and Mart along?”
“I don’t know what he can do, but I’m not going to take a chance. He’d stop at nothing to try for that reward. If I find that Sam Owens has him in custody, and if that man, ghost, or spirit at the ghost cabin is in jail, too, then I’ll feel a lot different about further exploring.”
“But, Uncle Andrew, please...
“No. Getting you all back home safe and sound is more important to me than any fish—”
The Mystery at Bob-White Cave Page 11
