The Black Jacket Mystery

by Campbell, Julie

  There was such an edge of excitement in his voice that the two boys looked at each other in sudden alarm. “Sounds like trouble!” Jim exclaimed, setting aside the frying pan he was holding over the fire. “Lets go!”

  The girls were right on their heels when they reached Mart as he swung off Jupiter, panting for breath.

  “It’s Mr. Maypenny! There’s been an accident!”

  “Where?” Jim asked at once.

  “Mr. Maypenny?” the two girls chorused.

  Mart nodded.

  “Where is he?” Brian was the only calm one. “Let’s go, boys. Girls, you’d better stay here and tend the fire. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  “What happened to him, Mart?” Trixie insisted, holding onto Mart’s sleeve as the others started to mount.

  “Looks as if a branch broke off one of the birches, about half a mile from his house. I don’t know what he was doing out there this time of night, but it seems to have hit him on the head. He’s got a nasty gash, and he’s unconscious,” Mart told them.

  Trixie and Honey looked at each other as Mart hurriedly mounted to join his brother and Jim. “He said he was going out to get Dan,” Trixie reminded Honey. “I hope they didn’t have an argument.”

  “Oh, Trixie! Don’t even think such a thing!” Honey moaned.

  “Well, I’m not going to stay here and just wait and worry. I’m going to find out if there’s something we can do.” Trixie started away, but Honey held her arm.

  “I’ll dump snow on the fire. You wrap up all the food, and we’ll put it in the boathouse so the porcupines won’t get at it.” Honey was always practical.

  “Okay, but let’s hurry!”

  When they caught up with the boys at the junction of one of the trails and a narrow path, the three were grouped around the unconscious figure of Mr. Maypenny in the light of two flashlights.

  The girls dismounted and tied their horses beside the boys’ three. They were almost afraid to go look, but after a moment’s hesitation, Trixie took Honey’s hand, and they hurried over together.

  Brian, his face grave, was kneeling beside Mr. Maypenny, carefully examining the gamekeeper’s scalp. Jim and Mart crouched close by.

  “He’ll need some stitches,” Brian said softly, “but there doesn’t seem to be a concussion. Let’s get him to the house where we can make him comfortable till a doctor can get there.”

  The old man groaned and opened his eyes. “Never mind—a doctor—” he whispered. “I’m a tough old nut, and my head’s the same!” And he even grinned bravely as he struggled to rise to a sitting position.

  “Better just lie quiet, and we’ll make you a litter, sir,” Brian advised.

  “Nonsense!” Mr. Maypenny was getting stronger by the minute. He sat up, gingerly feeling the wound, but reassured by touch that it wasn’t too serious. “I’ve had a worse bump from falling off old Brownie.” He squinted up at the birch tree, with its snow-laden branches, that towered over them. “Dratted tree!”

  Against their better judgment, the boys helped him to his feet and started up the trail toward his cabin, one on each side. Mart and the girls followed silently.

  “Stubborn old coot!” Mart whispered as they came in sight of the cabin. “How does he know he doesn’t have a broken skull?”

  But Trixie shushed him abruptly. “Some people know when they’re ‘cracked,’” she told him with an impish grin, “and others don’t!”

  Honey was staring at the house, where the lights seemed to be on not only in the kitchen but in the bedroom and the living room and even in the low-roofed attic, where a single electric light shone out onto the snow through a tiny square window above the rear door. “Goodness!” she exclaimed. “I wonder why Dan’s got every light in the house on!”

  “Maybe he came home and found Mr. Maypenny gone, and he’s looking around there for him!” Trixie suggested.

  The tall boys helped the owner of the house up to the front door, and Jim tried the doorknob. The lock was on.

  “Hey, Dan! Open up! Mr. Maypenny’s been hurt!” Brian called.

  They heard the high-heeled boots cross the floor, and a moment later the door was flung open to silhouette Dan Mangan.

  “A tree branch fell on him. It’s just a cut, I think,” Brian explained hastily, “but I’d better take a couple of stitches.” He helped Mr. Maypenny up the single step.

  Dan stood barring the door. He took Mr. Maypenny’s arm and drew him in. “I’ll take care of him. I know how. Thanks for your help,” he said brusquely, “but you can go now!”

  A New Mystery ● 15

  FOR A MOMENT Jim and Brian were too astounded to speak. Dan's unfriendly manner and his sharp words were a shock. They stood staring at him as he held Mr. Maypenny’s arm and started to reach for the door with his other hand, to close it on them.

  “Just a minute, bud,” Brian said grimly. He stuck his heavy boot over the threshold, so the door wouldn’t close, and pushed forward. “I’m not sure you know how to take care of Mr. Maypenny, and we’re not going to take any chances on it.”

  “Get out, all of you!” Dan’s face was white and drawn, and his dark eyes flashed in anger. “We don’t need your help!” But as he spoke, the old man sagged against him, and Dan was nearly borne down by his weight.

  Without any further argument, Brian nodded to Jim, and together they lifted Mr. Maypenny and carried him across the room to the bunk against the wall. They let him down gently, and Brian started to remove the old man s coat with Jim’s help.

  Dan came and stood over them angrily. “Let him alone and get out of here, I said! We don’t need you.

  “Just keep out of the way!” Brian told him sharply, brushing him aside. “Trixie, get into the kitchen and start some water boiling. We’ll have to find bandages, too. I’m sure he has some around somewhere.”

  “Okay, Doc!” Trixie threw him a fleeting grin and hurried out to the kitchen. In a minute, the sound of the electric pump told them she was obeying orders.

  “There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom,” Dan said sullenly. “I’ll bring it.” And he stalked across the room.

  The old gamekeeper was groaning now. The trip had been almost too much for him, in spite of his boasting. The blow had made him lose considerable blood, and he had lain out in the cold too long for safety.

  “Just take it as easy as you can, sir,” Jim advised him as the old man tossed in his bunk. “We’ll have this fixed up in a minute or so.”

  Honey had been standing around looking sorry but still helpless. She whispered hurriedly to the two boys, “What can I do to help?”

  It was Brian who answered promptly. “Sterilize a needle and heavy thread in the water as soon as Trixie gets it boiling. Wash your hands well first.” He turned back to the injured man without noticing that Honey looked more helpless than ever.

  She wanted to ask how long it had to be in the water and how she should carry it, but she didn’t want the boys to know how ignorant she was. Then and there she made up her mind to start first-aid instruction when the new class started at school. “Dope!” she called herself as she hurried to the kitchen to ask Trixie what to do.

  She was in such a hurry that, as she went past a small side table beside Mr. Maypenny’s favorite rocker, she brushed against it and tipped it over. A quick swoop saved it from falling to the floor, but she couldn’t manage to catch the small Staffordshire pottery bowl that had been sitting on it. The bowl fell to the floor and smashed, and a collection of cigarette butts scattered out of it “Bother!” Honey surveyed the mess and looked around for a whisk broom and dustpan. A newspaper was handy and served as both broom and pan to gather up the smelly debris. And she was all the more upset to notice that the boys were staring disapprovingly at her.

  As quickly as possible she fled to the kitchen with the newspaper wadded up. “What’s that?” Trixie asked as Honey marched over to the trash basket and emptied the newspaper into it.

  The water was beginnin
g to get hot in the little kettle, and Trixie was looking for a basin to carry it in.

  “Cigarette stubs! Smelly!” Honey shuddered with distaste.

  “Where on earth did you find those here?” Trixie’s blue eyes opened wide in amazement. “Mr. Maypenny doesn’t smoke and neither does Dan Mangan. And Mr. Maypenny has fits if anybody else smokes in his house.”

  “I guess he’s changed his mind since Dan’s been here. Or else Dan hasn’t been telling the truth and is a smoker,” Honey said. “They were in the little bowl that sat on the table by his chair. I broke it a minute ago, and these icky things fell out.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Trixie looked thoughtful a moment, then darted to the trash basket, reached in, and brought out one of the cigarette stubs. She held it gingerly in her fingers as she read out the brand name on it. Her face was grave as she turned to Honey. “It’s the same brand we found in the clubhouse. I guess this pins the blame for that right back on Dan.”

  Honey sighed. “I hate to admit it, but it does look bad for him. The worst is stealing our poor little three dollars and forty cents! It’s so small and petty.”

  “Not if he needed money for cigarettes and only had enough allowance or wages to pay for his school lunch and the bus.” Trixie knitted her brows over it.

  “He certainly is acting awfully strange about letting the boys help Mr. Maypenny!” Honey said thoughtfully. “Do you suppose—oh, I shouldn’t even think such things about the poor boy, but—do you suppose he has stolen things from us that we haven’t missed yet, and he didn’t want us to see them here? Like skates or some of our summer stuff?”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised,” Trixie answered soberly. “I’m going to keep my eyes open, and if I see anything which belongs to one of us—” She broke off, suddenly aware that the door to the living room was open and Dan was standing in the doorway scowling at her. There was no doubt he had heard I her words. For a moment he just glared, while both girls looked guilty, then he said sharply, “What about the hot water? You dames going to take all day getting it?”

  “Tell Brian we’ll bring it right now!” Trixie managed to find her tongue.

  Dan gave them a sour look, then turned on his heel and left.

  They scurried about, found a needle and thread, and sterilized them in the boiling water from the kettle. But even before they had finished, Brian himself stalked in and took over. After washing his own hands thoroughly in the best surgical style he could remember seeing on TV, he left for the living room followed by Trixie bearing the basin of hot water and Honey carrying the needle and thread on a pad of sterile gauze.

  But when Brian went to work on Mr. Maypenny’s injury, the two, at Jim’s suggestion, fled back to the kitchen.

  They sat by the kitchen table to talk over the latest twist in their mystery.

  “I suppose there’s no doubt Dan’s the one,” Trixie said with a shake of her head. “I wonder what we should say to Regan when he gets back!”

  “I think this is one time we ought to talk it over with the boys first,” Honey advised seriously. “After all, this isn’t all our business—” She stopped abruptly and stared at the ceiling. “Did you hear that? It sounded like a footstep up there.”

  “No,” Trixie admitted, staring at the ceiling. But she had no sooner answered than there was a sound that could have come from a creaking board in the attic. Trixie turned a startled face to Honey. “It did sound like a footstep!”

  “There was a light up there when we rode up, Honey said with growing excitement. “Remember?

  They stopped speaking to listen again, but there was no other sound from above. The boys were talking cheerfully in the living room, but neither Trixie nor Honey heard Dan’s voice. “Maybe it’s Dan up there!” Trixie said suddenly. “I don’t hear him.

  Maybe he climbed the ladder to get away from us ‘snoops’ and is sulking in his castle up there!” She giggled.

  But a couple of minutes later, when they went back into the living room, Dan was seated frowning at Jim and Brian as they took care of Mr. Maypenny’s gashed scalp. He had slid down in his chair with his feet stuck out in their pointed-toe black boots so that the girls had to walk around him to approach Mr. Maypenny’s bunk.

  Trixie cast a quick look at a ladder, in the far comer of the room, that led up to the attic. The trapdoor at the head of the ladder was closed, and even at a brief glance she could see that the hook was firmly caught in the eyebolt. When the trapdoor was fastened this way from below, no one could move it from above. So it was clear, she decided firmly, that there couldn’t be anyone up there. As for the light that Honey thought she had seen shining out of the attic as they rode up, she probably was mistaken. They were all so excited about poor Mr. Maypenny that Honey must have imagined it.

  Mr. Maypenny had managed to be very brave. He even laughed off the idea that his head hurt. But after it was bandaged, and he could lie back and close his eyes and relax, he seemed very glad to be quiet.

  “You’ll be all right, sir, if you’ll just rest here till morning. I wouldn’t get up and wander around if I were you. You’re likely to get dizzy,” Brian told him.

  Mr. Maypenny answered faintly, “I’ll get along, boy. And much obliged for the bandagin’. The lad here will take care of me now.” He opened his eyes and smiled toward Dan, then closed them and turned his head away again with a half-groan.

  “Think we ought to phone Doc Tremaine to ride over and see him in the morning?” Jim whispered to Brian.

  But it wasn’t Brian who answered. It was Dan Mangan. “You heard what Mr. Maypenny said,” Dan told them defiantly. “I can look out for him if he needs it. You just forget about calling any doctor! I’ll take care of him.”

  “What do you know about head injuries?” Brian asked sharply.

  “I’ve been conked on the bean a couple of times,” Dan told him with a scowl. “I didn’t have to drag in a sawbones to cure me.” He gestured toward the door. “Why don’t the bunch of you get out? You rich kids always have to play it your way. Nobody else knows anything. Big men!”

  “Rich kids! Boy!” Mart had been silent as long as he could stand it. He faced Dan with disgust. “Boy, are you misinformed! We Beldens aren’t rich. I' wish we were—I’m lazy. But we live on a farm, and all of us kids work hard to make it go.”

  “And our dad puts in eight horns a day on his job at the bank, sometimes lots longer,” Trixie cut in, “for his salary!”

  Dan glowered at her. “What about him?” He nodded toward Jim. “And Honey? They’re rollin’ in it!”

  “Jim was worse off than you’ve ever been,” Brian said quietly, “not many months ago.”

  Dan scowled at Jim, who smiled and nodded. “Broke, a runaway, and scared. And I haven’t forgotten it. But I think it would do Mr. Maypenny a lot more good if we got out of here than it will if we stand around arguing.”

  “Come on, kids.” Brian shooed the girls and Mart toward the front door.

  Trixie stopped near the door after Honey had gone out. She looked back at Dan with fire in her eyes. “You do hiss and coil like a snake. A copperhead!” As she finished speaking, she turned and flounced toward the door where Brian was waiting. She wasn’t looking where she was going, and she bumped her shin on a chair. It hurt so much that she said, “Ouch!” and grabbed the back of the chair to support herself while she rubbed the bumped spot.

  She flashed an angry look back at Dan to see if he was laughing at her, and was surprised to see him staring with a worried expression at the chair and the object draped over the top bar that she was clutching.

  The object was a black leather jacket. She forgot her aching shin. She angrily snatched the jacket off the chair and flung it at Dan. “Don’t look so mean!” she stormed at him. “I was hardly touching your disgusting old jacket! I wasn’t hinting it! Take a good look!”

  But although Dan reached out to catch the jacket, it fell short and spread out on the floor between them. Its black, shiny back lay uppermost
, and across it from shoulder to shoulder, a neatly lettered legend in white paint spelled out THE COWHANDS. And there wasn’t a sign of a tear in either of the sleeves!

  A Terrible Discovery • 16

  TRIXIE STARED at the black jacket spread out on the floor between her and Dan. “Why, that isn’t the same ja—” she began, surprised.

  Dan cut her off sharply. “Get out, will you!” he shouted, and at the same time he darted forward, snatched up the jacket, and held it behind him as he glared defiantly at her.

  “Trixie!” Brian poked his head in through the doorway. “Come on! Stop squabbling, both of you! Have a little consideration for Mr. Maypenny.”

  She turned and went out, and a moment later Dan had slammed the door shut after them and slipped the bolt.

  Brian hurried Trixie along. “We’ll come back tomorrow and change the bandage, but I’m sure Mr. Maypenny will be up and around then. He’s a tough old coot and it’s only a scalp injury.”

  “It could happen to anybody after the branches get loaded with snow,” Mart said. “Maybe somebody ought to advise the old boy to wear a fireman’s helmet so he won’t get conked again!”

  All three of the boys snickered at the thought, and Honey giggled with them. But Trixie, walking a little apart as they came up to the horses, didn’t join in. Her thoughts were on the black jacket spread on the cabin floor and the way Dan had acted.

  As Jim settled in the saddle, he glanced back at tire cabin and shook his head. “I wish there were some way to get through to Dan. Something’s bothering him a lot, and if he could just talk it out to somebody, he’d be a lot better off.” He paused, then added, “Dan needs friends.”

  “He needs a good punch in the nose!” Mart contradicted him grimly.

  “He had no right to shout at Trixie that way!” Honey said from beside them as they all rode down the trail. “He’s just hopeless, that’s all! And I wish he would go back where he came from!”

  “I thought you girls were all for Dan, now that we’ve decided he didn’t break into the clubhouse,” Brian said teasingly.