The Mystery at Mead's Mountain by Julie Campbell Page B

thought you guys would never find me! I—I even said if I could just get out of there, I’d never tease Trixie again!”
    “Does anybody have a tape recorder?” Trixie asked. She tried her best to sound sarcastic, but a beaming grin gave her away.
    “Well, at least I can make some suggestions to Mr. Wheeler about avalanche control,” said Mart, smiling weakly as he reached into his pocket for his rather smashed notebook.
    “Jeepers, Mart, how cool, calm, and collected can you be?” cried Honey. “You just about got yourself killed and already you’re cracking jokes!”
    “I’m collected enough to be glad my skis are broken,” he replied. “I don’t think I want to do any more skiing today.”
    “Really?” teased Di. “And I thought you’d be game for a race to go over and explore those caves.”
    “What caves?” Trixie queried.
    “Didn’t you see those caves up on the hill on the other side of the river?” Di asked. “I guess you can’t see them from here, but I noticed them as we were crossing the avalanche area. Maybe after Mart feels better, we could come back to explore them.’
    “They’re probably just holes in the rocks, Di—not interesting enough to explore,” Jim told her. “These mountains were formed by an uplift of land from pressure out in the ocean. There’s no elaborate underground river system.”
    “Let’s quit gabbing and get Mart back to the lodge,” Brian recommended. “Getting buried in an avalanche is not exactly what the doctor ordered. He’s going to need some rest.”
    “And some warm food,” Mart quickly prescribed for himself.
    “Gleeps, he’s thinking of food already,” said Trixie with relief. “He must be all right!”
    Mart seemed to have gained all his strength back by the time they reached the lodge. When Katie heard about Mart’s misfortune, she arranged for a special dinner featuring his favorite food, hamburgers.
    At dinner, Bert Mitchell and Jack Caridiff stopped by the Bob-Whites’ table to listen to their tales of woe about the avalanche and Honey’s missing watch.
    Jack looked apprehensive. “It’s the ghost of Thomas Mead, I tell you,” he said.
    Everyone, except Mart, stopped chewing their hamburgers. Trixie narrowed her eyes, watching Jack closely to see if he really believed what he was saying. He seemed very sincere.
    “I’m sure you’re pulling our leg,” Honey said politely but skeptically.
    “Jack’s just a mite superstitious,” Bert started to explain.
    Jack shook his head. “Everyone’s taking this whole business of the ghost too lightly,” he insisted. “If this lodge is haunted, not one of us is safe.”
    “Now, Mr. Caridiff,” said Miss Trask in her nononsense way, “I’m sure that the ghost of Thomas Mead is just folklore the people of this area like to keep alive. Just like our Hudson River ghosts. Those stories get better with each generation.”
    “Right,” said Mart, reaching for dessert. “Haven’t you heard of the legend of Sleepy Hollow?”
    “The headless horseman,” recalled Jack, “who can still be seen riding through the woods on stormy nights.”
    “Just like you saw the ghost of Mead’s Mountain our first night here, Trixie,” Brian teased.
    Trixie made a face at him and finished up her meal. She still believed that what she had seen had been real, not just her imagination’s reaction to folklore.
    Bert stood up. “I’ve got a good magazine waiting for me,” he said. “If you’re through with the ghost stories, Jack, are you coming, too?”
    “I think I’ll stay and have another cup of tea,” Jack decided. “How about you, Miss Trask? May I bring you a refill?”
    “That would be nice,” she said, handing him her cup.
    Brian, Di, Jim, and Mart decided to head back to the suite for some rest. Before exiting, Mart offered Trixie his arm and inquired formally, “Coming, Ms. Belden?”
    “Thank you for your concern,” she replied sweetly. “I think I’ll just sit here and