Chapter II: Part 2

"Calculate you will," agreed Old Silas. As he opened the gate for the girls he smiled in a way they could not fathom.

Once more on the curving turnpike, Penny and Louise discussed the old man's strange words. Both were agreed that Silas had not been in the least surprised to see them.

"But why did he say I could do good in the valley?" Penny speculated. "Evidently he thinks I'll influence my father to write something in the _Star_."

"Against Burmaster perhaps," nodded Louise. "Everyone we've met seems to dislike that man."

The girls clattered over a little log bridge and rounded a bend. Giant trees arched their limbs over the pike, creating a dark, cool tunnel. Penny and Louise urged their tired horses to a faster pace. Though neither would have admitted it, they had no desire to be on the turnpike after nightfall.

"Listen!" Louise commanded suddenly. "What was that sound?"

Penny drew rein to listen. Only a chirp of a cricket disturbed the eerie stillness.

"Just for a minute I thought I heard hoofbeats," Louise said apologetically. "Guess I must have imagined it."

Emerging from the long avenue of trees, the girls were slightly dismayed to see how swiftly darkness had spread its cloak on the valley. Beyond the next turn of the corkscrew road stood a giant tulip tree. Riding beneath it, Penny stared up at the gnarled limbs which were twisted in fantastic shapes.

"There was an old tulip tree in the Legend of Sleepy Hollow," she murmured in awe. "And it was close by that the Headless Horseman appeared--"

"Will you please hush?" Louise interrupted. "I'm jittery enough without any build-up from you!"

Some distance ahead stretched a long, narrow bridge with a high wooden railing. By straining their eyes the girls could see that it crossed a mill pond and led in a graceful curve to a rambling manor house of clapboard and stone.

"Mr. Burmaster's estate!" Louise exclaimed.

"And it looks exactly as I imagined it would!" Penny added in delight. "A perfect setting for the Galloping Hessian!"

"Too spooky if you ask me," said Louise with a shiver. "Why would anyone build an expensive home in such a lonely place?"

The girls rode on. A group of oaks, heavily matted with wild grapevines, threw a deeper gloom over the road. For a short distance the dense growth of trees hid the estate from view.

Suddenly the girls were startled to hear the sharp, ringing clop-clop of steel-shod hoofs. Unmistakably, the sound came from the direction of the long, narrow bridge.

"There! I knew I heard hoofbeats a moment ago!" Louise whispered nervously. "Maybe it _is_ the Headless Horseman!"

"Be your age!" chided Penny. "We both know there's no such thing--"

The words died on her lips. From somewhere in the darkness ahead came a woman's terrified scream. Frightened by the sound, Bones gave a startled snort. With a jerk which nearly flung Penny from the saddle, he plunged on toward the bridge.

CHAPTER
6
_GHOSTS AND WITCHES_

His ears laid back, Bones plunged headlong toward the gloom-shrouded bridge. Pins shook from Penny's head, and her hair became a stream of gold in the wind. She hunched low in the saddle, but could not stop the horse though she pulled hard on the reins.

As she reached a dense growth of elder bushes, a man leaped out to grasp the bridle. Bones snorted angrily and pounded the earth with his hoofs.

"Oh, thank you!" Penny gasped, and then she realized that the man had not meant to help her.

"So you're the one who's been causing so much trouble here!" he exclaimed wrathfully. "Get down out of that saddle!"

"I'll do no such thing!" Penny retorted. She tried to push him away.

Louise came trotting up on White Foot. Her unexpected arrival seemed to disconcert the man for he released Bones' bridle.

"What's he trying to do?" Louise demanded sharply, pulling up beside her chum.

Before Penny could find tongue, another man, heavily built, came running across the narrow bridge. His bald head bore no covering and the long tails of his well-cut coat flapped wildly in the wind.

"You let that rider get away, Jennings!" he cried accusingly to the workman. "Did you see him ride across the bridge and then take a trail along the creek bed?"

"No, I didn't, Mr. Burmaster," the workman mumbled. "I heard hoof beats and came as fast as I could from the grist mill. The only rider I saw was this girl. There's two of 'em."

"We have a perfect right to be here," Penny declared. "We were riding along the pike when we heard hoofbeats, then a scream. My horse became frightened and plunged down this way toward the bridge."

"I'm sorry I grabbed the bridle, Miss," the workman apologized. "You see, I thought--"

"Your trouble, Jennings, is that you never think!" cut in the owner of Sleepy Hollow curtly. "You never even saw the rider who got away?"

"No, sir. But I'll get the other workmen and go after him."

"Don't waste your efforts. He was only a boy--not the man we're after."

"Only a boy, sir?"

"The scamp clattered a stick against the railing of the bridge just to frighten my wife. Mrs. Burmaster is a very nervous woman."

"Yes, sir," replied the workman rather emphatically. "I know, sir."

"Oh, you do?" Mr. Burmaster asked, his tone unfriendly. "Well, get to the house and tell her there's no cause to scream to high heaven. The boy, whoever he was, is gone."

"I'll tell her," the workman mumbled, starting away.

"And mind, next time I order you to watch this road, I mean watch it!" the estate owner called after him. "If you don't, I'll find another man to take your place."

As Mr. Burmaster turned toward the girls, they obtained a better view of his face. He wore glasses and his cheeks were pouchy; a hooked nose curved down toward a mouth that was hard and firm. Yet when he spoke it was with a surprisingly pleasant tone of voice.

"I must apologize for the stupid actions of my workman," he said to Penny. "He should have known that you were not the one we are after."

"Not the Headless Horseman?" Penny asked, half jokingly.

Mr. Burmaster stepped closer so that he could gaze up into the girl's face. He scrutinized it for a moment, and then without answering her question said: "You are a stranger to the valley."

"Yes, we are."

"Then may I ask how you knew about our difficulties here at Sleepy Hollow?"

Penny explained that she had seen the estate owner's advertisement in the _Hobostein Weekly_. She did not add that it was the real reason why she and Louise had made the long trip from Riverview.

"I'll be willing to pay any amount to be rid of that so-called ghost who annoys us here at Sleepy Hollow," Mr. Burmaster said bitterly. "Night after night my wife has had no rest. The slightest sound terrifies her."

"Tell us more about the mysterious rider," Penny urged. "What time does he appear?"

"Oh, there's no predicting that. Often he rides over the bridge on stormy or foggy nights. Then again it's apt to be just after dusk. Tonight we thought we had the scamp, but it proved to be only a mischievous boy."

"Your workmen stand guard?"

"They have orders to watch this bridge day and night. But the men are a lazy lot. They wander off or they go to sleep."

"Isn't it possible that the disturbance always has been caused by a boy--perhaps this lad who clattered over the bridge tonight?"

"Impossible!" Mr. Burmaster snapped impatiently. "I've seen the Headless Horseman at least five times myself."

"You mean the rider actually has no head?" Louise interposed in awe.

"The appearance is that. Of course there's no question but someone from the village or the hills has been impersonating Irving's celebrated character of fiction. The point is, the joke's gone too far!"

"I should think so," Louise murmured sympathetically.

"My wife and I came to this little valley with only one thought. We wanted to build a fine home for ourselves amid peaceful surroundings. We brought in city workmen, a clever architect. No expense was spared to make this house and estate perfect. But when we tried to recreate the atmosphere of Sleepy Hollow, we didn't anticipate getting a ghost with it."

"When did the trouble first start?" Penny asked.

"Almost from the hour of our arrival. The country folks didn't like it because we imported city labor. They hindered our efforts. The women were abusive to my wife. Then last Halloween, the Headless Horseman clattered over this bridge."

"Couldn't it have been a holiday prank?"

"We thought so at first, but a month later, the same thing happened again. This time the scamp tossed a pebble against our bedroom window. Since then the rider has been coming at fairly frequent intervals."

"If you know it's a prank why should it worry you?" Penny inquired.

"A thing like that wears one down after awhile," the owner of the estate said wearily. "For myself I shouldn't mind, but my wife's going to pieces."

"Was it your wife we heard scream?" Louise asked, seeking to keep the conversational ball rolling.

"Yes, she's apt to go off the deep end whenever anyone rides fast over the bridge. My wife--"

Mr. Burmaster did not complete what he had intended to say. At that moment a soft padding of footsteps was heard, a creaking of boards on the bridge. From the direction of the house came a tall, shadowy figure.

"What were you saying about me, John?" The voice was that of a woman, shrill and strident.

"My wife," murmured the estate owner. He turned toward her. "Matilda," he said gently, "these girls are strangers to the Valley--"

"You were complaining about me to them!" the woman accused. "Oh, you needn't deny it! I distinctly heard you! You're always saying things to hurt my feelings. You don't care how I suffer. Isn't it enough that I have to live in this horrible community, among such cruel hateful people without you turning against me too?"

"Please, Matilda--"

"Don't 'Matilda' me! Apologize at once."

"Why, certainly I apologize," Mr. Burmaster said soothingly. "I was only telling the girls how nervous it makes you when anyone rides at a fast pace over the bridge."

"And why shouldn't I be nervous?" the woman demanded. "Since we've come to this community, I've been subjected to every possible insult! I suppose you let that rider get away again?"

"He was only a mischievous boy."

"I don't care who he was!" the woman cried. "I want him caught and turned over to the authorities. I want everyone who rides over this bridge arrested!"

"This is a public highway, Matilda. When we built this footbridge over the brook we had to grant permission for pedestrians and horseback riders to pass."

"Then make them change the ruling! Aren't you the richest man in the Valley? Or doesn't that mean anything?"

Mr. Burmaster glanced apologetically at Penny and Louise. The girls, quite taken aback by the woman's tirade, felt rather sorry for him. It was plain to see that Mrs. Burmaster was not a well woman. Her sharp, angular face was drawn as if from constant worry, and she kept patting nervously at the stiff rolls of her hair.

"Well, I guess we'd better be moving on," Penny said significantly to Louise.

"Yes, we must," her companion agreed with alacrity. "Mr. Burmaster, is Mrs. Lear's place on down this road?"

The owner of Sleepy Hollow was given no opportunity to answer. Before he could speak, his wife stepped closer, glaring up at Louise in the saddle.

"So you're friends of Mrs. Lear?" she demanded mockingly. "I suppose that old hag sent you here to snoop and pry and annoy me!"

"Goodness, no!" gasped Louise.

"We've never even seen the woman," Penny added. "Silas Malcom told us that Mrs. Lear might give us a room for the night."

"Silas Malcom!" Mrs. Burmaster seized upon the name. "He's another who tries to make trouble for us!"

"If you're in need of a place to stay, we'll be glad to have you remain with us," Mr. Burmaster invited. "We have plenty of room."

Mrs. Burmaster remained silent, but in the semi-darkness, the girls saw her give her husband a quick nudge. No need to be told that they were unwelcome by the eccentric mistress of Sleepy Hollow.

"Thank you, we couldn't possibly stay," Penny said, gathering up the reins.

She and Louise walked their horses single file over the creaking bridge. Just as they reached the far end Mr. Burmaster called to them. Pulling up, they waited for him.

"Please don't mind my wife," he said in an undertone. "She doesn't mean half what she says."

"We understand," Penny assured him kindly.

"You said you were interested in the Headless Horseman," the estate owner went on hurriedly. "Well, my offer holds. I'll pay a liberal reward to anyone who can learn the identity of the prankster. It's no boy. I'm sure of that."

Penny replied that she and Louise would like to help if they knew how.

"We'll talk about that part later on," Mr. Burmaster said. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, observing that his wife was coming. "No chance now. You'll stay with Mrs. Lear tonight?"

"If she'll take us in."

"Oh, she will, though her place is an eye-sore. Now this is what you might do. Get the old lady to talking. If she should give you the slightest hint who the prankster is, seize upon it."

"Then you think Mrs. Lear knows?"

"I suspect half the community does!" Mr. Burmaster answered bitterly. "Everyone except ourselves. We're hated here. No one will cooperate with us."

Penny thought over the request. She did not like the idea of going to Mrs. Lear's home to spy.

"Well, we'll see," she answered, without making a definite promise.

Mrs. Burmaster was coming across the bridge. Not wishing to talk to her, the girls bade the owner of Sleepy Hollow a hasty farewell and rode away. Once on the turnpike, they discussed the queer mistress of the estate.

"If you ask me, everyone in this community is queer," Louise grumbled. "Mrs. Burmaster just seems a bit more so than the others."

Intent upon reaching the Lear homestead, the saddle-weary girls kept on along the winding highway. It was impossible to make good time for White Foot kept giving Louise trouble. Presently the mare stopped dead in her tracks, then wheeled and started back toward the Burmaster estate. Louise, bouncing helplessly, shrieked to her chum for help.

"Rein her in!" Penny shouted.

When Louise seemed unable to obey, Penny rode Bones alongside and seized the reins. White Foot then stopped willingly enough.

"All I ask of life is to get off this creature!" Louise half sobbed. "I'm tired enough to die! And we've had nothing to eat since noon."

"Oh, brace up," Penny encouraged her. "It can't be much farther to Mrs. Lear's place. I'll lead your horse for awhile."

Seizing the reins again, she led White Foot down the road at a walk. They met no one on the lonely, twisting highway. The only sound other than the steady clop of hoofbeats was an occasional guttural twang from a bullfrog.

The night grew darker. Louise began to shiver, though not so much from cold as nervousness. Her gaze constantly roved along the deep woods to the left of the road. Seeing something white and ghostly amid the trees, she called Penny's attention to it.

"Why, it's nothing," Penny scoffed. "Just an old tree trunk split by lightning. That streak of white is the inner wood showing."

A bend in the road lay just ahead. Rounding it, the girls saw what appeared to be a camp fire glowing in the distance. The wind carried a strong odor of wood smoke.

"Now what's that?" Louise asked uneasily. "Someone camping along the road?"

"I can see a house on ahead," Penny replied. "The bonfire seems to have been built in the yard."

Both girls were convinced that they were approaching the Lear place. The fire, however, puzzled them. And their wonderment grew as they rode closer.

In the glare of the leaping flames they saw a huge, hanging iron kettle. A dark figure hovered over it, stirring the contents with a stick.

Involuntarily, Penny's hand tightened on the reins and Bones stopped. Louise pulled up so short that White Foot nearly reared back on her hind legs.

"A witch!" Penny exclaimed, half jubilantly. "I've always wanted to meet one, and this is our chance!"

CHAPTER
7
_BED AND BOARD_

For a moment the two girls watched in awe the dark, grotesque figure silhouetted against the leaping flames of the fire. A woman in a long, flowing gown kept stirring the contents of the iron kettle.

"Doesn't she look exactly like a witch!" Penny exclaimed again. "Maybe it's Mrs. Lear."

"If that's the Lear place I know one thing!" Louise announced dramatically. "I'm going straight on to Delta."

Penny knew better than to argue with her chum. Softly she quoted from "Macbeth":

"'Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.'"

"Trouble is all we've had since we started this wild trip," Louise broke in. "And now you ask me to spend the night with a witch!"

"Not so loud, or the witch may hear you," Penny cautioned. "Don't be silly, Lou. It's only a woman out in her back yard cooking supper."

"At this time of night?"

"Well, it is a bit late, but so are we. Any port in a storm. Come along, Louise. I'll venture that whatever is cooking in that kettle will be good."

Penny rode on and Louise had no choice but to follow. A hundred yards farther on they came to an ancient farmhouse set back from the road. Dismounting, the girls tied their horses to an old-fashioned hitching rack near the sagging gate. A mailbox bore the name: Mrs. M. J. Lear.

"This is the place all right," said Penny.

Just inside the gate stood an ancient domicile that by daylight was shaded by a giant sycamore. Built of small bricks, it had latticed windows, and a gabled front. An iron weathercock perched on the curling shingle roof seemed to gaze saucily down at the girls.

Going around the house to the back yard, Penny and Louise again came within view of the blazing fire. An old woman in a long black dress bent over the smoke-blackened kettle which hung from the iron crane. Hearing footsteps, she glanced up alertly.

"Who is it?" she called, and the crackled voice was sharp rather than friendly.

"Silas Malcom sent us here," Penny said, moving into the arc of flickering light.

"And who be you? Friends o' his?" The hatchet-faced woman peered intently, almost suspiciously at the two girls.

Penny gave her name and Louise's, adding that they were seeking lodging for the night.

"We'll pay, of course," she added.

The old woman scrutinized the girls for so long that they were certain she would send them away. But when she spoke, her voice was friendly.

"Well, well," she cackled, "anybody that's a friend of Silas is a friend of mine. You're welcome to bed and board fer as long as you want to stay."

Penny thanked her and stepped closer to the kettle. "We've not had anything to eat since noon," she said suggestively. "My, whatever you're cooking looks good!" She sniffed at the steam arising from the iron pot and backed hastily away.

Old Mrs. Lear broke into cackling laughter. "You gals don't want none o' that! This here is soap and I'm head over heels in it. That's why I'm workin' so late."

"Soap," repeated Penny with deep respect. "Why, I thought soap was made in a factory."

Mrs. Lear was pleased at the girl's interest. "Most of it is," she said, "but not my soap. This here is homemade soap and I wouldn't trade a cake of it for all the store soap ye can lug home--not for heavy cleanin', I wouldn't."

Moving near enough to the fire to see the greasy mixture bubbling in the kettle, Penny asked Mrs. Lear if she would explain how soap was made.

"Bless you, yes," the old lady replied with enthusiasm. "You are the first gal I ever ran across that was interested in anything as old fashioned as soap makin'. Why, when I was young every girl knew how to make soap and was proud of it. But nowdays! All the girls think about is gaddin' and dancin' and having dates with some worthless good-for-nothin'. Come right up to the fire and I'll show you something about soap makin'."

Mrs. Lear poked the glowing logs beneath the kettle.

"First thing," she explained, "is to get your fire good and hot. Then you add your scrap grease."

"What is scrap grease?" Louise asked, greatly intrigued.

"Why, bless you, child, that's the odds and ends of cookin' that most folks throw away. Not me though. I make soap of it. Even if it ain't so good smellin' it's better soap than you can buy."

The girls looked over the rim of the steaming kettle and saw a quantity of bubbling fats. With surprising dexterity for one of her age, Mrs. Lear inserted a long-handled hoe-shaped paddle and stirred the mixture vigorously.

"Next thing ye do is to cook in the lye," she instructed. "Then you let it cool off and slice it to any size you want. This mess'll soon be ready."

"And that's all there is to making soap," Penny said, a bit amazed in spite of herself.

"All but a little elbow grease and some git up and git!" the old lady chuckled. "Them two commodities are mighty scarce these days."

While the girls watched, Mrs. Lear poured off the soap mixture. She would not allow them to help lest they burn themselves.

"I kin tell that you girls are all tuckered out," she said when the task was finished. "Just put your horses in the barn and toss 'em some corn and hay. While you're gone I'll clean up these soap makin' things and start a mess o' victuals cookin'."

Mrs. Lear waved a bony hand toward a large, unpainted outbuilding. Louise and Penny led their horses to it, opening the creaking old barn door somewhat cautiously. A sound they could not instantly identify greeted their ears.

"What was that?" Louise whispered, holding back.

"Only a horse gnawing corn!" Penny chuckled. "Mrs. Lear must keep a steed of her own."

It was dark in the barn even with the doors left wide open. Groping their way to empty stalls, the girls unsaddled and tied the horses up for the night. Mrs. Lear's animal, they noted, was a high-spirited animal, evidently a thoroughbred.

"A riding horse too," Penny remarked. "Wonder how she can afford to keep it?"

Finding corn in the bin, the girls fed Bones and White Foot, and forked them an ample supply of hay.

"Now to feed ourselves," Penny sighed as they left the barn. "My stomach feels as empty as the Grand Canyon!"

The girls had visions of a bountiful supper cooked over the camp fire. However, Mrs. Lear was putting out the glowing coals with a bucket of water.

"Come into the house," she urged. "It won't take me long to git a meal knocked up. That is, if you ain't too particular."

"Anything suits us," Louise assured her.

"And the more of it, the better," Penny muttered, though under her breath.

Mrs. Lear led the way to the house, advising the girls to wait at the door until she could light a kerosene lamp. By its ruddy glow they saw a kitchen, very meagerly furnished with old-fashioned cook stove, a homemade table and a few chairs.

"While you're washin' up I'll put on some victuals to cook," Mrs. Lear said, showing the girls a wash basin and pitcher. "It won't take me a minute."

With a speed that was amazing, the old lady lighted the cook stove and soon had a bed of glowing coals. She warmed up a pan of potatoes, fried salt pork and hominy. From a pantry shelf she brought wild grape jelly and a loaf of homemade bread. To complete the meal she set before the girls a pitcher of milk and a great glass dish brimming with canned peaches.

"It ain't much," she apologized.

"Food never looked better," Penny declared, drawing a chair to the kitchen table.

"It's a marvelous supper!" Louise added, her eyes fairly caressing the food.

Mrs. Lear sat down at the table with the girls and seemed to take keen delight in watching them eat. Whenever their appetites lagged for an instant she would pass them another dish.

"Now that you've et, tell me who you are and why you came," Mrs. Lear urged after the girls had finished. "You say Silas sent you?"

Good food had stimulated Penny and Louise and made them in a talkative mood. They told of their long trip from Riverview and almost before they realized it, had spoken of the Headless Horseman. Mrs. Lear listened attentively, her watery blue eyes dancing with interest. Suddenly Penny cut her story short, conscious that the old lady deliberately was pumping her of information.

"So you'd like to collect Mr. Burmaster's reward?" Mrs. Lear chuckled.

"We shouldn't mind," Penny admitted. "Besides, we'd be doing the Burmasters a good turn to help them get rid of their ghost rider."

"That you would," agreed the old lady exactly as if the Burmasters were her best friends. "Yes, indeed, you've come in a good cause."

"Then perhaps you can help us," Louise said eagerly. "You must have heard about the Headless Horseman."

Mrs. Lear nodded brightly.

"Perhaps you know who the person is," Penny added.

"Maybe, maybe not." Mrs. Lear shrugged, and getting quickly up, began to carry the dishes to the sink. The firm tilt of her thin chin warned the girls that so far as she was concerned, the topic was closed.

Rather baffled, Penny and Louise made a feeble attempt to reopen the conversation. Failing, they offered to wipe the dishes for their hostess.

"Oh, it ain't no bother to do 'em myself," Mrs. Lear said, shooing them away. "You both look tired enough to drop. Just go up to the spare bedroom and slip beneath the covers."

Louise and Penny needed no further urging. Carrying their knapsacks and a lamp Mrs. Lear gave them, they stumbled up the stairs. The spare bedroom was a huge, rather cold chamber, furnished with a giant fourposter bed and a chest of drawers. The only floor covering was a homemade rag rug.

Louise quickly undressed and left Penny to blow out the light. The latter, moving to the latticed window, stood for a moment gazing out across the moonlit fields toward the Burmaster estate.

"Nothing makes sense about this trip," she remarked.

From the bed came a muffled: "Now you're talking!"

Ignoring the jibe, Penny resumed: "Did you notice how Mrs. Lear acted just as if the Burmasters were her friends."

"Perhaps she did that to throw us off the track. She asked us plenty of questions but she didn't tell us one thing!"

"Yet she knows plenty. I'm convinced of that."

"Oh, come on to bed," Louise pleaded, yawning. "Can't you do your speculating in the morning?"

With a laugh, Penny leaped into the very center of the feather bed, missing her chum's anatomy by inches.

Soon Mrs. Lear came upstairs. She tapped softly on the door and inquired if the girls had plenty of covers. Assured that they were comfortable, she went on down the hall to her own room.

Worn from the long horseback ride, Louise fell asleep almost at once. Penny felt too excited to be drowsy. She lay staring up at the ceiling, reflecting upon the day's events. So far, the journey to the Valley had netted little more than sore muscles.

"Yet there's mystery and intrigue here--I know it!" Penny thought. "If only I could get a little tangible information!"

An hour elapsed and still the girl could not sleep. As she stirred restlessly, she heard Mrs. Lear's bedroom door softly creak. In the hallway boards began to tremble. Penny stiffened, listening. Distinctly, she could hear someone tiptoeing past her door to the stairway.

"That must be Mrs. Lear," she thought. "But what can she be doing up at this time of night?"

The question did not long remain unanswered. Boards squeaked steadily as the old lady descended the stairs. A little silence. Then Penny heard two long rings and a short one.

"Mrs. Lear is calling someone on the old-fashioned party-line telephone!" she identified the sound.

Mrs. Lear's squeaky voice carried clearly up the stairway through the half open bedroom door.

"That you, Silas?" Penny heard her say. "Well, those gals got here, just as you said they would! First off they asked me about the Headless Horseman."

A slight pause followed before Mrs. Lear added: "Don't you worry none, Silas. Just count on me! They'll handle soft as kittens!"

And as she ended the telephone conversation, the old lady broke into cackling laughter.

CHAPTER
8
_A RICH MAN'S TROUBLES_

Rain was drumming on the roof when Penny awakened the next morning. Yawning sleepily, she sat up in bed. Beside her, Louise, curled into a tight ball, slumbered undisturbed. But not for long. Penny tickled an exposed foot until she opened her eyes.

"Get up, Lou!" she ordered pleasantly. "We've overslept."

"Oh, it's still night," Louise grumbled, trying to snuggle beneath the covers again.

Penny stripped off all the blankets and pulled her chum from the bed. "It's only so dark because it's raining," she explained. "Anyway, I have something important to tell you."

As the girls dressed in the cold bedroom, Penny told Louise of the telephone conversation she had heard the previous night.

"Mrs. Lear was talking to Silas Malcom I'm sure," she concluded. "And about us too! She said we'd handle very easily."

Louise's eyes opened a trifle wider. "Then you figure Silas Malcom intended to get us here on purpose!"

"I'm beginning to think so."

"But why?"

"Don't ask me," Penny said with a shrug. "These Valley folk aren't simple by any means! Unless we watch our step they may take us for a merry ride."

"Not with the Headless Horseman, I hope," Louise chuckled. "Why don't we go home this morning and forget the whole silly affair?"

Penny shook her head. "I'm sticking until I find out what's going on here," she announced. "It might mean a story for Dad's paper!"

"Oh, that's only your excuse," Louise teased. "You know you never could resist a mystery, and this one certainly has baffling angles."

The girls washed in a basin of cold water and then went downstairs. Mrs. Lear was baking pancakes in the warm kitchen. She flipped one neatly as she reached with the other hand to remove the coffee pot from the stove.

"Good morning," she chirped. "Did you sleep right last night?"

Penny and Louise agreed that they had and edged close to the stove for warmth. An old-fashioned clock on the mantel showed that it was only eight o'clock. But eight o'clock for Mrs. Lear was a late hour, judging by the amount of work she had done. A row of glass jars stood on the table, filled with canned plums and peaches.

"You haven't put up all that fruit this morning?" gasped Louise.

Mrs. Lear admitted that she had. "But that ain't much," she added modestly. "Only a bushel and a half. Won't hardly last no time at all."

Mrs. Lear cleared off the kitchen table, set it in a twinkling, and placed before the girls a huge mound of stacked cakes.

"Now eat hearty," she advised. "I had mine hours ago."

As Penny ate, she sought to draw a little information from the eccentric old woman. Deliberately, she brought up the subject of the Burmaster family.

"What is it you want to know?" Mrs. Lear asked, smiling wisely.

"Why is Mrs. Burmaster so disliked in the community?"

"Because she's a scheming, trouble maker if there ever was one!" the old lady replied promptly. "Mr. Burmaster ain't so bad, only he's pulled around by the nose by that weepin', whinin' wife of his."

"Mrs. Burmaster seems to think that the valley folk treat her cruelly."

"She should talk about being cruel!" Mrs. Lear's dark eyes flashed. "You know what them Burmasters done?"

"Only in a general way."

"Well, they come here, and forced folks to git off the land."

"Didn't Mr. Burmaster pay for what he bought?"

"Oh, it was done legal," Mrs. Lear admitted grudgingly. "You see, most o' this valley was owned by a man in the East. He rented it out in parcels, an' never bothered anyone even if they was behind in their payments."

"Then Mr. Burmaster bought the entire track of land from the Eastern owner?" inquired Penny.

"That's right. All except these here four acres where my house sets. They ain't nothin' in this world that will git me in a mood to sell to that old skinflint. He's tried every trick in the bag already."

Penny thoughtfully reached for another pancake. As an impartial judge she could see that there was something to be said on both sides of the question. Mr. Burmaster had purchased his land legally, and so could not be blamed for asking the former renters to move. Yet she sympathized with the farmers who for so many years had considered the valley their own.

"This house o' mine ain't much to look at," Mrs. Lear commented reflectively, "but it's been home fer a long time. Ain't nobody going to get me out o' here."

"You own your own land?" inquired Louise.

"That I do," nodded Mrs. Lear proudly. "I got the deed hid under my bed mattress."

"Won't you tell us about Mr. Burmaster's difficulty with the Headless Horseman," Penny urged, feeling that the old lady was in a talkative mood.

"What do you want to know?" Mrs. Lear asked cautiously.

"Is there really such a thing or is it just a story?"

"If you girls stay in this valley long enough you'll learn fer yourselves," Mrs. Lear chuckled. "I'll warrant you'll see that Horseman."

"And you know who the prankster is!" Penny ventured daringly.

"Maybe I do," Mrs. Lear admitted with a chuckle. "But a ten-mule team couldn't pry it out o' me, and neither can you!"

Before Penny could resume the subject, chickens began to squawk and scatter in the barn yard. A large, expensive looking car pulled up near the side door. Mrs. Lear peeped out of a window and her jaw set in a firm, hard line.

"That's Mr. Burmaster now," she announced in a stage whisper. "Well, he ain't goin' to pressure me. No sir! I'll give him as good as he sends!"

After Mr. Burmaster pounded on the kitchen door, the old lady took her time before she let him in.

"Good morning," he said brightly.

"Humph! What's good about it?" Mrs. Lear shot back. "It's rainin', ain't it? And if we git much more o' it this fall, the dam up Huntley way's goin' to let go shore as I'm a standin' here."

"Nonsense!" replied the estate owner impatiently. He stepped into the kitchen. Seeing Penny and Louise, he looked rather surprised and a trifle embarrassed.

"Go on and say what you come to say," Mrs. Lear encouraged. "Don't stand on no ceremony jus' cause I got city visitors."

Obviously Mr. Burmaster did not like to speak before strangers, but there was no other way.

"You know why I am here, Mrs. Lear," he began. "I've already made several offers for your property--"

"And I've turned 'em all down."

"Yes, but this time I hope you'll listen to reason. Last night my wife had a near collapse after a boy rode a horse across the bridge by our house. All this stupid talk about Headless Horsemen has inspired the community to do mischief. Now every boy in the Valley is trying pranks."

"Then why not ketch the Horseman and put an end to it?" Mrs. Lear asked impudently.

"Nothing would please me better. But we've had no success. My wife can't endure the strain much longer. It's driving her to a frenzy."

"I'm sorry about that," replied Mrs. Lear stonily. "There ain't nothin' I can do."

"I want you to sell this property," Mr. Burmaster pleaded. "At least that will remove one irritation. You see, my wife considers the place an eyesore. She can see your house from our living room window. It ruins an otherwise perfect view of the valley."

"Now ain't that too bad!" Mrs. Lear's tone was sarcastic. "Well, let me tell you somethin'. That place o' yorn spoils my view too!"

"I'm afraid I haven't made myself clear," Mr. Burmaster said hastily. "It's a matter of my wife's health."

"Your wife ain't no more ailin' than I be," Mrs. Lear retorted. "If she didn't have my house to bother her it would be somethin' else. I ain't goin' to sell and that's all there is to it!"

"You've not heard my offer. I'll give you two thousand dollars for this place--cash."

Mrs. Lear looked a trifle stunned.

"At best the place isn't worth five hundred," Mr. Burmaster resumed. "But I aim to be generous."

"I won't sell," Mrs. Lear said firmly. "Not at any price. Them's my final words."

Mr. Burmaster had kept his voice carefully controlled but the old lady's decision angered him.

"You'll regret this!" he said in a harsh tone. "I've been very patient but I warn you! From now on I shall act in my own interests."

"Have you ever acted in any other?" drawled a voice from behind the estate owner.

Everyone turned quickly. Joe Quigley, the young station agent, stood framed in the open doorway. Smiling at Burmaster in a grim way, he came slowly into the kitchen.

CHAPTER
9
_STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER_

A silence had fallen upon those in the room. Joe Quigley shook rain drops from his overcoat. Deliberately he took his time hanging the coat over a chair in front of the cook stove. Then, still smiling in an ironic way, he faced Burmaster.

"I repeat," he challenged, "did you ever act in any manner except for your own interest?"

"You are insulting! Insolent!" Mr. Burmaster snapped. "But I'll not be drawn into an argument with you. Good morning!"

Quigley blocked the door. "Not so fast," he drawled. "Matter of fact, I was on my way to your house. Saw your car standing in Mrs. Lear's yard, so I figured you were here."

"If you have a telegram for me I'll take it."

"The only message I have is a verbal one," answered Quigley. "Our mayor from Delta, Bradley Mason, asked me to talk to you about the Huntley Dam."

"The subject doesn't interest me."

"It should interest every man, woman and child in this valley!" Quigley retorted. "If the dam gives way flood waters will sweep straight down the valley. Your house would be destroyed before you knew there was any danger!"

"Really?" Mr. Burmaster's smile was a sneer. "Let me worry about my own property."

"As a matter of record, I don't lose any sleep over you," Quigley responded heatedly. "But I am thinking about Mrs. Lear and the people living in Delta. Not to mention the towns on down the line which would be in the direct path of the flood."

"If the good people of Delta are endangered why don't they repair the dam themselves?"

"For the reason that we can't raise the money. We've tried."

"Then the State should act in the matter. I'm willing to write my senator--"

"Repairs are needed now, not three months later. Mr. Burmaster, you have the money and you'd be doing the community a great service to lend help. We're not asking for a donation. It's as much to your interest as ours to protect the valley."

"There's no danger," Burmaster said angrily. "Not a particle. It's only a scheme to shake me down for money."

Brushing past the station agent, the man went out into the rain. In driving out of the yard he turned the car so sharply that it skidded on its wheels.

"Well, that's that," Quigley remarked with a shrug. "I should have saved my breath."

"I'm glad _he's_ gone," Mrs. Lear announced tartly. "Will you have a bite o' breakfast, Joe?"

"No, thanks," the young station agent replied. "I'm due for my trick at the Depot in twenty minutes. Have to run along."

The girls were sorry to see Joe Quigley go so soon for they had hoped to have a long talk with him. After he had disappeared into the rain they tried without much success to draw more information from Mrs. Lear. The old lady was in no mood to discuss the Burmasters, but she did have a great deal to say about flood danger to the valley.

"'Tain't usual that we have so much rain," she declared. "Not at this time o' year. Old Red River's floodin' to the brim, an keeps pourin' more and more into the Huntley Lake basin. The dam there was built years ago and it wasn't much to brag on from the start."

"Haven't authorities inspected the dam recently?" Penny inquired thoughtfully.

"Oh, some young whippersnapper come here a month ago and took a quick look and said the dam would hold," Mrs. Lear replied, tossing her head.

"But he ain't livin' in the Valley. We want repairs made and we want 'em quick--not next year."

"Since Mr. Burmaster refuses to help is there nothing that can be done?"

"There's some as thinks a little piece in the city papers might help," Mrs. Lear said, giving Penny a quick, shrewd glance. "Your pa's a newspaper owner, ain't he?"

"Yes, he owns the _Riverview Star_."

Penny gazed across the table at Louise. It struck both girls that Mrs. Lear was very well informed about their affairs. How had the old lady learned that Mr. Parker was a newspaper man if not from Silas Malcom? More than ever Penny was convinced that she had been lured to Red Valley, perhaps for the purpose of interesting her famous father in the Huntley Dam project.

"You've been very kind, Mrs. Lear," she said, abruptly arising from the table. "Louise and I appreciate your hospitality. However, we want to pay for our room and meals before we go."

"You don't owe me a penny," the old lady laughed. "Furthermore, you ain't leavin' yet."

"We must. There's an afternoon train--"

"And there'll be another along tomorrow. Why, you'd catch your death o' cold ridin' hoss back all the way to Hobostein."

"The rain should let up soon."

"It should, but it won't," Mrs. Lear declared. "Why don't you stay until tomorror anyhow? Then you could go to the barn dance tonight at Silas' place."

At the moment, the girls were not greatly intrigued at the prospect of attending a barn dance. The steady rain had depressed them. Though the long journey to Red Valley had proven interesting, it scarcely seemed worth the exhausting effort. They had learned very little about the so-called Headless Horseman and doubted that any truly valuable information would come their way.

"If you stay over maybe you'll git a chance to see that hoss-ridin' ghost," Mrs. Lear said slyly. "Seems like it's mostly on bad nights that he does his prowlin'."

The girls helped with the dishes. They made the bed and watched Mrs. Lear sew on a rag rug. At intervals they wandered to the windows. Rain fell steadily, showing not the slightest sign of a let up.

"Didn't I tell you," Mrs. Lear said gleefully. "It's settlin' for a good healthy pour. You might jest as well calculate on stayin' another night."

"But our parents will be expecting us home," Louise protested.

"Send 'em a wire from Delta," Mrs. Lear urged. "Reckon this rain'll maybe slacken a bit come afternoon."

Throughout the long morning Louise and Penny wandered restlessly about the house. Now and then they sought without success to draw information from Mrs. Lear about the mysterious prankster. From the merry twinkle in her eyes they were convinced she knew a great deal. Pry it from her they could not.

"Maybe that Headless Horseman ain't nobody human," she chuckled. "Maybe it's a real haunt. I mind the time somebody witched my cow. The stubborn critter didn't give no milk for eight days steady."

Penny and Louise weren't sure whether the old lady was serious or trying to tease them. After awhile they gave up attempting to solve such an enigma. By noon they had reconciled themselves to staying another night at Red Valley. However, scarcely had they made their decision to remain, than the sky cleared.

"We're stuck here anyway," Penny sighed. "We couldn't possibly ride our horses back to Hobostein in time to catch the afternoon train."

After luncheon the girls hiked across-fields to the picturesque little town of Delta. There they dropped in at the depot to chat with Joe Quigley and send a telegram to their parents.

"If time's heavy on your hands why not take a little jaunt to the Huntley Dam?" the station agent suggested. "It should be well worth your time."

Penny and Louise decided to do just that. At Mrs. Lear's once more, they saddled their horses and took the pike road to a well-marked trail which led up into the hills. Ditches were brimming with fast running water, yet there was no other evidence of flood.

"Do you suppose all this talk about the dam being weak is just talk?" Penny speculated as they rode along. "In case of real danger one would think State authorities would step into the picture."

Soon the girls came to the winding Red River. Swollen by the fall rains, the current raced madly over rocks and stones. The roar of rushing water warned them that they were close to the dam. In another moment they glimpsed a mighty torrent of water pouring in a silvery white ribbon over the high barrier.

Men could be seen working doggedly as they piled sandbag upon sandbag to strengthen the weakened structure.

Suddenly Penny noticed a man and woman who wore raincoats, watching the workmen.

"Lou, there's Mr. and Mrs. Burmaster!" she exclaimed.

They drove closer to the dam. Mr. and Mrs. Burmaster were talking so earnestly together that they did not observe the newcomers. The roar of water drowned the sound of hoofbeats. But the wind blew directly toward the girls. Mrs. Burmaster's voice, shrill and angrily, came to them clearly:

"You can't do it, John! I won't allow it!" she admonished her husband. "You're not to give the people of this valley one penny! The dam is perfectly safe."

"I'm not so sure," he said, pointing to the far side of the structure.

As he spoke a tiny portion of the dam seemed to melt away. The girls, watching tensely, saw several sandbags swept over the brink. Workmen raced to repair the damage. Mrs. Burmaster seemed stunned by the sight, but only for an instant.

"I don't care!" she cried. "Not a penny of our money goes into this dam! It will hold. Anyway, I'd rather drown than be bested by that hateful old lady Lear!"

"But Matilda--"

"Don't speak to me of it again! Get her out of this Valley--tear down her shack! If you don't, I warn you, I'll take matters into my own hands!"

Turning abruptly, Mrs. Burmaster walked angrily down the trail.

CHAPTER
10
_BARN DANCE_

Mr. Burmaster was too distracted to pay heed to Penny and Louise. Brushing past them, he hastened after his wife.

Neither of the girls commented upon the conversation they had overheard. For a long while they sat on their horses, gazing in awe at the tumbling water.

"If ever that dam should let go--" Penny shuddered, "why, the valley would be flooded in just a few minutes. I doubt folks could be warned in time."

"It looks as if it could give way any second too," Louise added uneasily. "Why don't we get out of this valley and stay away?"

"And forget the mystery?"

"A lot of good a mystery would do us if that dam lets go! Penny, we were crazy to come here in the first place!"

"But I want to get a big story for Dad's paper. There's one here."

"I know not what course others may take," Louise quoted grandly. "As for myself, I'm going home on tomorrow's train--rain or shine."

"We'll both have to go," Penny agreed in a discouraged tone. "I had my chance here, but somehow I've muffed it."

For a half hour longer the girls remained at the dam watching the workmen. Presently returning to the Lear cottage they found Mrs. Lear in the warm kitchen, cooking supper.

"I'm settin' the victuals on early tonight," she announced. "We ain't got any too much time to git to the frolic at Silas' place."

Penny and Louise were not sure that they cared to attend the barn dance. Mrs. Lear, however, was deaf to all excuses. She whisked supper onto the table and the instant dishes were done, said that she would hitch Trinidad to the buggy.

"It won't take us long to git there," she encouraged the girls as they reluctantly followed her to the barn. "Trinidad's a fast steppin' critter. Best horse in the county fer that matter."

Soon the ancient buggy was rattling at a brisk clip along the winding woodland road. Mrs. Lear allowed Trinidad to slacken pace as they neared the Burmaster estate.

"Look at that house!" she chortled, waving her buggy whip. "Every light in the place lit up! Know why? Mrs. Burmaster's afeared o' her shadder. Come dark and she's skeared to stick her nose out the door."

"You don't seem to be afraid of anything," Penny remarked in admiration.

"Me afeared?" the old lady laughed gleefully. "What's there to be skeared of?"

"Well--perhaps a certain Headless Horseman."

Mrs. Lear hooted. "If I was to see that critter a-comin' right now and he had twenty heads, I wouldn't even bat an eye!"

Horse and buggy approached the giant tulip tree whose gnarled branches were twisted into fantastic shapes. "See that tree?" Mrs. Lear demanded. "In Revolutionary days a traitor was hanged from that lower limb. Sometimes you kin still hear his spirit sighin' and moanin'."

"You mean the wind whistling through the tree limbs," Penny supplied.

"Didn't sound like wind to me," Mrs. Lear corrected with a grin. "There's some that's afeared to pass under this tree come night--but not me!"

The buggy rattled on, its top brushing against the overhanging branches of the giant tulip. It had grown very dark and the shadows of the woods had a depressing effect upon the girls. They were glad to see the lights of the Malcom place on the hill and even more pleased to drive into the yard.

"You gals go right on in," Mrs. Lear advised, leaping lightly from the buggy. "I'll look after Trinidad."

The barn dance already was in progress. Crossing the yard, the girls could hear gay laughter above the lively squeak of fiddles. Through the open barn door they glimpsed a throng of young people whirling in the intricate steps of a square dance.

"We're certain to be wall flowers at a party such as this," Louise remarked sadly.

The girls found themselves a quiet corner from which to watch the merrymakers. However, they were not permitted to remain there. At the end of the first dance, Joe Quigley came to ask Penny for a dance. To Louise's secret joy he brought along a young man who promptly invited her to be his partner.

"But we don't know how to square dance," Penny protested.

"Won't take you long to learn," Joe chuckled, pulling her to her feet.

The fiddler broke into a lively tune. Silas Malcom, acting as caller, shouted boisterous directions to the dancers: "Balance all, balance eight, swing 'em like a-swingin' on a gate."

Joe Quigley, expert dancer that he was, fairly swept Penny through the intricate formations. Before she hardly was aware of it, the dance was over and Silas called out: "Meet your partner and promenade home."

After that the girls did not lack for partners. The night sped on magic wings. Penny danced many times with Joe and ate supper with him. Then, noticing that the party was starting to break up, she looked about for Mrs. Lear. The old lady was nowhere to be seen. Nor could Louise recall having seen her for the past half hour. Somewhat disturbed, they crossed the room to talk to old Silas Malcom.

"Mrs. Lear went home a good hour ago," he told them. "She said she had to git some sleep, but you gals was havin' so much fun she didn't have the heart to take you away."

Penny and Louise could not hide their consternation. With Mrs. Lear gone they would have no way of getting back to the cottage.

"Don't you worry none," Old Silas chuckled. "Joe Quigley will take you home. An' if he don't there's plenty o' young bucks waitin' fer the chanst."