Trixie sighed. She felt sure that Harrison knew how much they were counting on him. It didn’t seem likely that he would deliberately let them down. On the other hand, Trixie had thought often, just lately, that Harrison had something on his mind—something that was worrying him a great deal.
“Isn’t there anything at all that would give us a clue to where he might have gone?” she asked at last.
“I suppose I could ask the rest of the staff when I get home,” Di said, sounding eager. “I think Cook’s already done that, but when I left for school this morning, I was so upset I didn’t ask to make sure. Oh, Trixie, have you thought of anything? Do you have an idea of where he might be?”
Her face fell as Trixie answered, “I really haven’t, Di. But there is one thing. He only meant to be gone an hour, so perhaps he’s not too far away even now.”
“By George, I think she’s got something there,” Mart said. “So what are you suggesting, Miss Sherlock? Do we break out the bloodhounds, or what?”
Trixie answered slowly, “If the rest of you agree, I think we should take the horses this afternoon and see what we can discover. How about it, everyone?”
Dan sighed. “I can’t come, I’m afraid. I have to work this afternoon. I sure wish I could help you, though.”
“We wish you could help us, too,” Trixie said, but she understood why he couldn’t.
Some time ago Dan had lived in the city and had gotten in with the wrong crowd. His uncle, Bill Regan, who was the Wheelers’ horse trainer, had brought him to Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson. Now Dan lived and worked with Mr. Maypenny, the gamekeeper for the Wheeler estate.
“Then is it all arranged for this afternoon?” Di asked anxiously.
Trixie raised her eyebrows at each Bob-White in turn. “Yes,” she said at last. “It’s all arranged. Be at the stables as soon as you can. Agreed?”
The Bob-Whites agreed.
The bus let the three Beldens off at the foot of their graveled driveway. Brian hurried away at once and disappeared indoors.
Trixie and Mart were about to follow him, when Bobby, their six-year-old brother, came running toward them. He had had the whole day off from school. His first-grade teacher, too, was attending the conference in White Plains.
Bobby’s eyes were sparkling. “Trixie, are you going to play with me this afternoon?”
Looking after her young brother was one of Trixie’s chores at Crabapple Farm. Usually she didn’t mind. Today, though, she knew it would be impossible to look after Bobby and search for Harrison at the same time.
She dropped to one knee and put her free arm around her small brother. “I’m not going to have time to play this afternoon,” she said. “There’s something very important we’ve all got to do.” Bobby’s lower lip quivered. “But I had it all planned,” he cried. “I told Reddy that you and me would take him for a long walk.”
“Then you and me will have to take Reddy for a walk some other time. You know he’s only going to want to chase rabbits, anyway—”
As she spoke, the Beldens’ big Irish setter appeared around the corner of the garage. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them. Then, at top speed, he came bounding forward. From the back of his throat, he uttered short, sharp yelps of welcome.
Mart and Trixie yelled together, “No, Reddy, no! Down, boy!”
But it was too late. Their dog, his tail streaming behind him like a banner, flung himself briefly at Mart’s chest. Then he turned and launched himself into one final joyful leap.
He caught Trixie off-balance and knocked her backward. He pinned her to the ground with one great paw, then smothered her face with kisses.
It took the combined efforts of Mart and Bobby to pull him off.
“You’re a bad dog!” Mart said sternly.
“And no walk today,” Trixie added, scrambling to her feet. “No walk! Understand?” She began to scrub vigorously at her face with a handkerchief.
For a moment, Reddy looked sorrowful. Then, remembering how much he loved them all, he sat back on his haunches and grinned. His sides were heaving. His long red tongue hung from the side of his panting mouth.
“He didn’t mean to be bad,” Bobby said. “He was only saying hello.”
“Then someone should teach him to sit politely and shake paws instead,” Mart snapped. “That dog is definitely undisciplined.”
“Does that mean he won’t do as he’s told?” Bobby asked.
“That’s just what it means,” Mart said, glaring at the unrepentant culprit. “Someone ought to give him obedience lessons.”
Trixie sighed. “Somehow I don’t think anyone could train Reddy. Just lately he seems to have been giving himself disobedience lessons.”
“Nonsense!” Mart said. “I have a book in my room that tells exactly how to train a dog. Reddy is a dog. Therefore, he can be trained!”
In spite of all the worries that were crowding Trixie’s mind, she had a sudden sly thought. “It wasn’t so long ago that you and Brian tried teaching Reddy how to behave, remember? Reddy didn’t learn.”
“That’s because we were giving him conflicting orders,” Mart said. “Anyway, now that I’ve got this book, it’d be a piece of cake.”
“Does that mean you’re going to eat the book?” asked Bobby, who knew that his brother was always hungry.
“No,” Trixie said, smiling at him. “What Mart meant was that he thinks he can train Reddy to do what we want. He can’t, of course—”
Mart fell right into the trap. “Sure I can,” he boasted. “I bet I could train him in a week.” Trixie pounced. “What will you bet?”
For a moment, Mart didn’t answer. Then he said loftily, “If I win, you’ll have to make my bed for a week.”
“And if you lose?”
“I’ll make yours for a month.”
Bobby jumped up and down with excitement. “Mine, too? Will you make mine, too?”
Mart grinned. “Okay, yours, too, small fry. And you can watch me teach Reddy if you like.”
“When will you start?” Trixie asked.
“As soon as possible,” Mart said promptly. “If there’s time, I’ll start tonight. That’s it!” He nodded. “A week from tonight, Reddy will be all set to do what we want. Deal?”
“Deal,” Trixie agreed.
She smiled as she watched Mart and Bobby hurry into the house together. She looked down at Reddy, who was busy exploring a bed of marigolds. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have Reddy obey their slightest command. Somehow she couldn’t picture it.
She tried, anyway. “Come, Reddy!” she ordered.
Reddy glanced at her over his shoulder, then turned and trotted happily away in the opposite direction.
Trixie chuckled softly to herself as she watched him go. “Mart will never teach that dog to do what we want,” she murmured. “That bet is as good as won. Now, if we can only find Harrison, our troubles will be over.”
It was just as well that she didn’t know their troubles were only about to begin.
After the fastest lunch they had ever eaten, Trixie, Mart, and Brian changed quickly into old jeans and clean shirts and hurried along the path that led to the Wheeler stables.
Their mother, Helen Belden, had understood all too well their need for haste when Brian had explained the circumstances.
“Why, of course you must go,” she had said. “The chores can wait. And as for Bobby, he’ll be just fine. I’m planning on making pies for the bazaar this afternoon, and he can help me mix the dough. I can’t imagine, though, where you’re going to begin to look for Harrison.”
As things turned out, it was Bill Regan who gave them their first clue to the missing butler’s whereabouts.
When the Beldens arrived, Jim and Honey were already in the stable’s cool, dim interior, which smelled of horses, oats, and saddle soap. Regan was helping Jim lead Jupiter out of his stall. The big black horse was hard to hold. He was anxious to be off.
“Where are you all going
this afternoon, anyway?” Regan asked.
Mart walked to the box stall that held the strawberry roan, who was his favorite. “Believe it or not, we’re off to look for a mislaid butler,” he answered. “I don’t suppose you’ve got him hidden around here anywhere, have you?” He pretended to look in Strawberry’s sleeping quarters.
“Harrison?” Regan scratched his red head and looked surprised. “Are you serious? Why, I saw him just last night.”
Trixie gasped. “You did? Oh, Regan, where?
Please try to remember. It’s very important.”
“But I don’t have to try to remember. I do remember, very clearly. I saw him along Glen Road, riding his bicycle.” Regan grinned at the memory.
“I didn’t know he had a bicycle,” Mart said idly.
“Well, he had one last night,” Regan said. “It was yellow, I think. Anyway, I was riding Jupe at the time. Harrison tipped his derby hat and said, ‘Good evening, Mr. Regan. Good evening, Jupiter.’ ”
“And then what?” Trixie asked.
Regan shrugged. “And then nothing. He turned off onto one of those side trails that lead into the woods and—” He broke off sharply. “Is that where you’re planning on taking the horses?”
“We’ll be careful,” Trixie said quickly. “We’ll watch out for loose stones and trailing roots and stuff like that. Honest!”
“Did Harrison say where he was going?” Honey asked.
“No, he didn’t.” Regan’s pleasant face still held a worried frown. “Now, you just listen to me, all of you. If I find that you kids ever try to gallop the horses through those woods—”
It took another ten minutes and the combined efforts of all the Bob-Whites to convince him that his precious horses would come to no harm.
By then Di had joined them. She was riding her palomino, Sunny, whose home was in the Lynches’ paddock. Di looked smart in her tan jodhpurs. Too, she seemed to feel a little more cheerful when Trixie told her Regan’s news about Harrison. At the Lynch home, none of the staff had known anything more about his disappearance.
Regan stood calling instructions after all of them until, with a clattering of hooves, they were out of the stable yard and across the meadow.
The search for Harrison was on!
The horses wanted to run, but Trixie and her friends held them to a steady walk. Jim, mounted on Jupiter, led the way, as usual.
The big black gelding, whose coat gleamed like dark satin, pranced sideways in his eagerness to outrun his stablemates, but Jim held him on a tight rein.
Trixie’s beautiful little black mare, Susie, followed close behind, and Honey, mounted on dapple-gray Lady, rode beside her. Di on Sunny, Mart on Strawberry, and Brian on Starlight brought up the rear.
As they rode, a playful breeze blew gently against their faces. All around them, the Bob-
Whites could smell the refreshing scent of pine.
When they reached Glen Road, Trixie brought Susie to a gentle halt. She called to the others, “Don’t you think we ought to try and figure out some sort of plan? It might be better if we split up.”
“Good idea,” Di said, “though I still think it’s funny about that yellow bike. As far as I know, Harrison doesn’t own a bicycle, yellow or otherwise.”
“Maybe he borrowed it from one of the other servants,” Brian said.
“Maybe so,” Di agreed, but she didn’t sound at all sure about it.
“I think Trixie’s right,” Jim said. “I mean about us splitting up. But let’s try to keep in touch with each other. We all know how easy it is to get lost in the woods. If you find anything, be sure to give our signal.”
He pursed his lips, and in another instant, the bob, bob-white call sounded shrill and clear.
The others nodded agreement. Mart and Di turned off on a trail to the right. Brian and Jim took the one to the left.
“Be careful,” Trixie shouted after them. “We don’t want you guys, too, disappearing into thin air!”
A cheery wave of Jim’s hand answered her.
Slowly, carefully, Trixie and Honey held their horses to a walk until they reached a trail that lay straight ahead of them through the trees.
Suddenly Trixie clutched Honey’s arm. “Look!” she exclaimed. She pointed downward.
There, in the dark, sweet earth of the forest floor, they saw clearly the marks of bicycle tires.
Honey gasped. “Shall I call the others?”
Trixie thought for a moment. “No,” she said at last. “These could have been made by anyone at any time. Let’s follow them first and see where they lead. After all, this could be a false alarm.”
But as she stared at the ground, she saw that the tracks looked fresh and clear.
“Oh, Honey,” she said, “I have a feeling that this isn’t a false alarm at all. Come on! Let’s hurry!”
She urged her little horse forward.
Trixie’s Monster ● 3
IT WAS THE EASIEST TRAIL Trixie and Honey had ever followed. It climbed steadily upward through the dappled shadows of tall trees. Then, at the top of the hill, the shadows stopped, and the girls rode into the glare of bright sunlight. They were on the other side of the woods.
Trixie shaded her eyes with her hand and gasped at the scene before her. She found herself gazing down into a green and peaceful clearing, in the middle of which stood a neat little white frame house.
It looked as old as Crabapple Farm itself. Bright blossoms glowed like jewels in its garden.
It all looked oddly familiar.
Trixie leaned forward in her saddle. “Why, Honey, it’s Sleepyside Hollow!” she exclaimed.
“What a pretty place,” Honey answered. “I didn’t even know this was here.”
“Sure you did. Don’t you remember? We were here once before, quite a while ago. We were tracking down a hot lead on one of our mysteries, but Brian took a wrong turn in his old jalopy. We found ourselves on that little road down there.”
Honey could see the road clearly. It appeared unexpectedly through the trees at the lower end of the clearing and wound its way out of sight once more as it passed the little house.
Honey said, “I must have been tracking down a hot lead somewhere else when you came here that day. I wish I’d been with you instead. Did you have a picnic?”
Trixie grinned, remembering. “Nope. We almost had a long walk. You see, Brian’s old car broke down just at the wrong moment. If it hadn’t been for the kind lady who lives in that house down there, we’d have been in trouble. As it was, she let us use her phone to call for help. Today we must have come here by a back way-—a sort of shortcut, I would think.”
“There’s something more to tell about Sleepyside Hollow, isn’t there?” Honey said. “I can tell by the look in your eye.”
Trixie laughed. “You’re right! You see, this is the place where I saw the alphabet trees.”
“The what?”
“It’s a name I made up for some fruit trees I saw in the lady’s backyard. Look, you can see a couple of them from here.”
Honey squinted. “Why, they seem to have something painted on their trunks.”
Trixie nodded. “Letters of the alphabet. That one says ABD, I remember. The one next to it says CFG. There’re more just like them. And you’re not going to believe this next bit. Some of those trees are wearing bandages, too.”
“Bandages?”
“Green bandages. I was dying to find out all about them, but Brian and Mart wouldn’t let me ask. They said I’m nosy enough as it is!”
“Never!” said Honey, laughing.
“How could I have forgotten all about those trees till now?” Trixie murmured to herself.
“Maybe you’ve been too busy tracking down other hot leads,” Honey told her, “and maybe that’s just as well. If you hadn’t forgotten about Sleepyside Hollow, it would have been another mystery to keep you awake nights.”
But all at once, Trixie wasn’t listening. Her gaze sharpened as she stared down into
the clearing. “What’s that yellow object on the front porch, Honey?” she asked.
“Oh, Trixie,” breathed Honey, “do you think it could possibly be—?”
“Yes,” said Trixie firmly, “I do. I believe we’ve found Harrison’s bicycle! Now all we have to do is find Harrison himself.”
Susie pricked up her ears and whickered softly as Trixie’s hands tightened on the slack reins. Then, as carefully as before but with growing excitement, the two riders guided their horses down the steep slope toward the house.
The yellow bicycle was propped neatly against the porch railing, but Harrison was nowhere in sight.
“He must be in the house,” Trixie said.
She slid from Susie’s back and looped the reins in the bushes. Soon Honey was standing beside her. They hurried to the front door.
Trixie knocked, waited, and knocked again. There was no answer.
They listened, but all they could hear was the gentle whispering of the breeze in the treetops.
Trixie stepped back from the door. “I’m going to take a peek in one of these windows,” she said firmly.
“But supposing someone’s there but just doesn’t want to answer the door?” Honey objected. “They might imagine we’re selling something. Did you think of that?”
“I’ll only be a minute,” Trixie said, speaking more truthfully than she knew.
She moved to a window and pressed her face to the cool glass. At first she could see nothing but the dark outlines of comfortable furniture. Then, as her eyes gradually became adjusted to the dim interior, she began to pick out details of the room.
It was the living room, that much was certain. Trixie saw a wide, cozy fireplace, where a neatly laid fire needed only a match to set it cheerfully ablaze. She saw one wall lined with books and another hung with prints of famous paintings. She saw a door standing slightly ajar.
As she watched, the door began to open, slowly, silently. Trixie pressed closer to the window, straining her eyes to see who had come in.
The Mystery of the Headless Horseman Page 2
