comfortable to paint there today.”
The sun was just coming up as the girls walked their horses out of the Wheeler stables and down the driveway. The frosty air nipped their ears and reddened the tips of their noses, but they took long, deep breaths as they trudged along leading their favorites, Starlight and Susie.
Once they were past the clubhouse and out of range of the driveway and the garage at the head of it, they mounted and trotted the two mares along the road toward the turnoff that led up into the game preserve.
It was very quiet along Glen Road. Sleepyside traffic started late on Sundays. The woods were even more quiet, and cold. The girls both were a little sorry that they had come out alone so early in the morning. It would have been lots more cheerful to have the boys with them.
“How much farther is it to where we stopped?” Trixie asked. “Things look different when the shadows point the other way.”
“It can’t be more than half a mile; remember?” Honey was trying to be cheerful. “We’ll snatch up the watch and turn around and head for home.”
“You bet!” Trixie agreed fervently.
A moment later Susie stumbled on a loose rock and struggled to regain her footing. And when she went on, she limped a little on her left front hoof.
The moment Trixie noticed the limp, she stopped the little mare and dismounted. “I’d better see if she’s picked up a pebble,” she told Honey. “Won’t take a minute.”
“Were almost there, anyhow,” Honey answered cheerfully. “No rush.” But she looked around her nervously and stared up toward the higher slopes on either side of the trail for signs of last evening’s cat.
Trixie examined Susie’s hoof. “Oops I There it is. A sharp-pointed, nasty little stone. Poor li’l Susie-Ill get it out right now.” She used a small stick to pry out the offending pebble.
Honey suddenly sat erect in the saddle, her eyes wide. “Ssss!” she signaled to Trixie. “Listen!”
They both heard the crashing of brush somewhere beyond the turn of the trail. Somebody or something was coming. At first they both thought it might be the big cat, but the sound of heavy boots striking against rocks told them the newcomer was human.
“It’s probably Mr. Maypenny or Dan Mangan,” Trixie said cheerfully. She spoke in her normal voice, expecting to see one of them turning the corner at any moment. Instead, the sound of the steps stopped. Dead silence followed.
Trixie and Honey looked at each other uneasily. “A poacher!” Honey said softly. “Let’s give him time to get away. Dad says sometimes poachers get mean if they think a person has recognized them. We don’t want to see him if we can help it.”
So they waited a couple of minutes, but it was scary waiting. Not a sound came from up ahead.
“We can’t just sit here,” Trixie whispered tensely. “He’s probably watching us. We’ll have to pretend we don’t care who it was and aren’t suspicious. Let’s just ride on.”
“Okay.” Honey was uneasy. “Come on.”
Trixie mounted hastily and not too gracefully. A moment later she was riding ahead up the trail toward the game preserve, with Honey close behind her on Starlight. She even pretended a careless whistle, but it wasn’t very strong and was quite off-key.
They were almost to the cross trail where they had heard the cat’s yowl, before they felt secure. Honey had looked back along the trail several times but had seen no one. With distance between themselves and the brush-crasher, they began to feel more relaxed.
“It was probably Dan Mangan, and he was still sulking at us,” Honey said. “But he certainly didn’t have to hide.”
“I don’t think it was Dan.” Trixie looked solemn.
“I just have a feeling it was a poacher.”
“Well, here we are,” Honey said as they came in sight of the cross trail. “We’ll find my watch and then ride back home as fast as we can. If we meet anyone and he tries to stop us, we’ll
The sun was just coming up as the girls walked their horses out of the Wheeler stables and down the driveway. The frosty air nipped their ears and reddened the tips of their noses, but they took long, deep breaths as they trudged along leading their favorites, Starlight and Susie.
Once they were past the clubhouse and out of range of the driveway and the garage at the head of it, they mounted and trotted the two mares along the road toward the turnoff that led up into the game preserve.
It was very quiet along Glen Road. Sleepyside traffic started late on Sundays. The woods were even more quiet, and cold. The girls both were a little sorry that they had come out alone so early in the morning. It would have been lots more cheerful to have the boys with them.
“How much farther is it to where we stopped?” Trixie asked. “Things look different when the shadows point the other way.”
“It can’t be more than half a mile; remember?” Honey was trying to be cheerful. “We’ll snatch up the watch and turn around and head for home.”
“You bet!” Trixie agreed fervently.
A moment later Susie stumbled on a loose rock and struggled to regain her footing. And when she went on, she limped a little on her left front hoof.
The moment Trixie noticed the limp, she stopped the little mare and dismounted. “I’d better see if she’s picked up a pebble,” she told Honey. “Won’t take a minute.”
“Were almost there, anyhow,” Honey answered cheerfully. “No rush.” But she looked around her nervously and stared up toward the higher slopes on either side of the trail for signs of last evening’s cat.
Trixie examined Susie’s hoof. “Oops I There it is. A sharp-pointed, nasty little stone. Poor li’l Susie-Ill get it out right now.” She used a small stick to pry out the offending pebble.
Honey suddenly sat erect in the saddle, her eyes wide. “Ssss!” she signaled to Trixie. “Listen!”
They both heard the crashing of brush somewhere beyond the turn of the trail. Somebody or something was coming. At first they both thought it might be the big cat, but the sound of heavy boots striking against rocks told them the newcomer was human.
“It’s probably Mr. Maypenny or Dan Mangan,” Trixie said cheerfully. She spoke in her normal voice, expecting to see one of them turning the corner at any moment. Instead, the sound of the steps stopped. Dead silence followed.
Trixie and Honey looked at each other uneasily. “A poacher!” Honey said softly. “Let’s give him time to get away. Dad says sometimes poachers get mean if they think a person has recognized them. We don’t want to see him if we can help it.”
So they waited a couple of minutes, but it was scary waiting. Not a sound came from up ahead.
“We can’t just sit here,” Trixie whispered tensely. “He’s probably watching us. We’ll have to pretend we don’t care who it was and aren’t suspicious. Let’s just ride on.”
“Okay.” Honey was uneasy. “Come on.”
Trixie mounted hastily and not too gracefully. A moment later she was riding ahead up the trail toward the game preserve, with Honey close behind her on Starlight. She even pretended a careless whistle, but it wasn’t very strong and was quite off-key.
They were almost to the cross trail where they had heard the cat’s yowl, before they felt secure. Honey had looked back along the trail several times but had seen no one. With distance between themselves and the brush-crasher, they began to feel more relaxed.
“It was probably Dan Mangan, and he was still sulking at us,” Honey said. “But he certainly didn’t have to hide.”
“I don’t think it was Dan.” Trixie looked solemn.
“I just have a feeling it was a poacher.”
“Well, here we are,” Honey said as they came in sight of the cross trail. “We’ll find my watch and then ride back home as fast as we can. If we meet anyone and he tries to stop us, we’ll
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