"I thought Jake checked over everything last night."
"That's what he _said_," returned Sara. "We'll ask him about it."
The workman, white-faced and frightened, came running down the hill.
"What happened?" he demanded. "Couldn't you slow down or was it too icy?"
"No brakes," Sara answered laconically. "I thought you tested them."
"I did. They were in good order last night."
"Take a look at this." Sara pointed to the broken rod.
Jake bent down to examine it. When he straightened he spoke no word, but
the expression of his face told the two girls that he did not hold
himself responsible for the mishap.
"There's something funny about this," he muttered. "I'll take the sled to
the shop and have a look at it."
"I'll go along with you," declared Sara.
"And so will I," added Penny quickly.
"You really should get a hot bath and go to bed," advised Sara. "If you
don't you may not be able to walk tomorrow."
"I'll go to bed in a little while," Penny answered significantly.
Followed by the two girls, Jake pulled the sled to the tool house behind
the lodge. Sara immediately closed and bolted the door from the inside so
that curious persons would not enter.
"Now let's really have a look at that brake rod," she said. "Notice
anything queer about it, Penny?"
"I did, and I'm thinking the same thing you are."
"See these shiny marks on the steel," Jake pointed out excitedly. "The
rod had been sawed almost in two. Even a little strain on it would make
it break."
"You're certain it was in good condition last night?" Sara questioned.
"Positive," Jake responded grimly. "I checked over both sleds just before
supper last night."
"Let's have a look at the other sled," proposed Penny.
An inspection of the brake equipment revealed nothing out of order.
"Whoever did the trick may have been afraid to damage both sleds for fear
of drawing attention to his criminal work," declared Penny. "But it's
perfectly evident someone wanted us to take a bad spill."
"I can't guess who would try such a trick," said Sara in perplexity. "Did
you lock the tool house last night, Jake?"
"I always do."
"How about the windows?" inquired Penny.
"I don't rightly remember," Jake confessed. "I reckon they're stuck
fast."
Penny went over and tested one of the windows. While it was not locked,
she could not raise it with her injured arm. Sara tried without any
better luck.
However, as the girls examined the one on the opposite side of the tool
house, they discovered that it raised and lowered readily. Tiny pieces of
wood were chipped from the outside sill, showing where a blunt instrument
had been inserted beneath the sash.
"This is where the person entered, all right," declared Penny.
"I can't understand who would wish to injure us," said Sara in a baffled
voice. "You're not known here at Pine Top, and I have no enemies to my
knowledge."
"Mrs. Downey has them. There are persons who would like to see her out of
business. And our bob-sledding parties were growing popular."
"They were taking a few guests away from the big hotel," Sara admitted
slowly. "Still, it doesn't seem possible--"
She broke off as Penny reached down to pick up a small object which lay
on the floor beneath the window.
"What have you found?" she finished quickly.
Penny held out a large black button for her to see. A few strands of
coarse dark thread still clung to the eyelets.
"It looks like a button from a man's overcoat!" exclaimed Sara. "Jake,
does this belong to you?"
The workman glanced at it and shook his head.
"Not mine."
"It probably fell from the coat of the person who damaged our sled,"
Penny declared thoughtfully. "Not much of a clue, perhaps, but at least
it's something to go on!"
CHAPTER
16
_A PUZZLING SOLUTION_
Penny pocketed the button and then with Sara went outside the building to
look for additional clues. The girls found only a multitude of footprints
in the snow beneath the two windows, for the tool house stood beside a
direct path to the nursery slopes.
"We've learned everything we're going to," declared Sara. "Penny, I do
wish you would get into the house and take your bath. You're limping
worse every minute."
"All right, I'll go. I do feel miserable."
"Perhaps you ought to have a doctor."
Penny laughed in amusement. "I'll be brake man on the bob-sled tomorrow
as usual."
"You'll be lucky if you're able to crawl out of bed. Anyway, I doubt if
I'll be able to come myself."
"Your grandfather?" asked Penny quickly.
"Yes, he's getting suspicious. I'll have to be more careful."
"Why don't you tell him the truth? It's really not fair to deceive him.
He's bound to learn the truth sooner or later."
"I'm afraid to tell him," Sara said with a little shiver. "When
grandfather is angry you can't reason with him. I'll have to run now. I'm
later than usual."
Penny watched her friend go and then hobbled into the lodge. News of the
accident had preceded her, and Mrs. Downey met her at the door. She was
deeply troubled until she ascertained for herself that the girl had not
been seriously injured.
"I was afraid something like this would happen," Mrs. Downey murmured
self accusingly. "You know now why I wasn't very enthusiastic about using
the bob-sled run."
Penny decided not to tell Mrs. Downey until later how the mishap had
occurred. She was feeling too miserable to do much talking, and she knew
the truth would only add to the woman's worries.
"I can't say I'm so thrilled about it myself at the moment," she declared
with a grimace. "I feel as stiff as if I were mounted on a mummy board!"
Mrs. Downey drew a tub of hot water, but it required all of Penny's
athletic prowess to get herself in and out of it. Her right arm was
swollen and painful to lift. The skin on one side of her body from hip to
ankle had been severely scraped and bruised. She could turn her neck only
with difficulty.
"I do think I should call a doctor from the village," Mrs. Downey
declared as she aided the girl into bed.
"Please, don't," pleaded Penny. "I'll be as frisky as ever by tomorrow."
Mrs. Downey lowered the shades and went away. Left alone, Penny tried to
go to sleep, but she was too uncomfortable. Every time she shifted to a
new position wracking pains shot through her body.
"If this isn't the worst break," she thought, sinking deep into gloom.
"I'll be crippled for several days at least. No skiing, no bob-sledding.
And while I'm lying here on my bed of pain, Francine will learn all about
the Green Room."
After awhile the warmth of the bed overcame Penny and she slept. She
awakened to find Mrs. Downey standing beside her, a tray in her hand.
"I shouldn't have disturbed you," the woman apologized, "but you've been
sleeping so long. And you've had nothing to eat."
"I could do with a little luncheon," mumbled Penny drowsily. "You didn't
need to bother bringing it upstairs."
"This is dinner, not luncheon," corrected Mrs. Downey.
Penny rolled over and painfully pulled herself to a sitting posture.
"Then I must have slept hours! What time is it?"
"Five-thirty. Do you feel better, Penny?"
"I think I do. From my eyebrows up anyway."
While Penny ate her dinner, Mrs. Downey sat beside her and chatted.
"At least there's nothing wrong with my appetite," the girl laughed,
rapidly emptying the dishes. "At home Mrs. Weems says I eat like a wolf.
Oh, by the way, any mail?"
"None for you."
Penny's face clouded. "It's funny no one writes me. Don't you think I
might at least get an advertising circular?"
"Well, Christmas is coming," Mrs. Downey said reasonably. "The holiday
season always is such a busy time. Folks have their shopping to do."
"Not Dad. Usually he just calls up the Personal Shopper at Hobson's store
and says: 'She's five-feet three, size twelve and likes bright colors.
Send out something done up in gift wrapping and charge to my account.'"
Penny sighed drearily. "Then after Christmas I have to take it back and
ask for an exchange."
"Have you ever tried giving your father a list?" suggested Mrs. Downey,
smiling at the description.
"Often. He nearly always ignores it."
"What did you ask him for this year?"
"Only a new automobile."
"Only! My goodness, aren't your tastes rather expensive?"
"Oh, he won't give it to me," replied Penny. "I'll probably get a sweater
with pink and blue stripes or some dead merchandise the store couldn't
pawn off on anyone except an unsuspecting father."
Mrs. Downey laughed as she picked up the tray.
"I hope your father will be able to get to Pine Top for Christmas."
"So do I," agreed Penny, frowning. "I thought when I wired him that
Harvey Maxwell was here he would come right away."
"He may have decided it would do no good to contact the man. Knowing Mr.
Maxwell I doubt if your father could make any sort of deal with him."
"If only he would come here he might be able to learn something which
would help his case," Penny declared earnestly. "Maxwell and Fergus are
mixed up in some queer business."
Mrs. Downey smiled tolerantly. While she always listened attentively to
Penny's theories and observations, she had not been greatly excited by
her tale of the mysterious Green Room. She knew the two men were
unscrupulous in a business way and that they were making every effort to
force her to give up the lodge, but she could not bring herself to
believe they were involved in more serious affairs. She thought that
Penny's great eagerness to prove Harvey Maxwell's dishonesty had caused
her imagination to run riot.
"Francine Sellberg wouldn't be at Pine Top if something weren't in the
wind," Penny went on reflectively. "She followed Ralph Fergus and Maxwell
here. And that in itself was rather strange."
"How do you mean, Penny?"
"Fergus must have been having trouble in managing the hotel or he
wouldn't have gone to Riverview to see Maxwell. What he had to say
evidently couldn't be trusted to a letter or a telegram."
"Mr. Fergus often absents himself on trips. Now and then he goes to
Canada."
"I wonder why?" asked Penny alertly.
"He and Mr. Maxwell have a hotel there, I've heard. I doubt if his trips
have any particular significance."
"Well, at any rate, Fergus brought Maxwell back from Riverview to help
him solve some weighty problem. From their talk on the plane, I gathered
they were plotting to put you out of business, Mrs. Downey."
"I think you are right there, Penny."
"But why should your lodge annoy them? You could never take a large
number of guests away from their hotel."
"Ralph Fergus is trying to buy up the entire mountainside," Mrs. Downey
declared bitterly. "He purchased the site of the old mine, and I can't
see what good it will ever do the hotel."
"You don't suppose there's valuable mineral--"
"No," Mrs. Downey broke in with an amused laugh. "The mine played out
years ago."
"Has Mr. Fergus tried to buy your lodge?"
"He's made me two different offers. Both were hardly worth considering.
If he comes through with any reasonable proposition I may sell. My future
plans depend a great deal upon whether or not Peter Jasko is willing to
renew a lease on the ski slopes."
"When does the lease expire, Mrs. Downey?"
"The end of next month. I've asked Mr. Jasko to come and see me as soon
as he can. However, I have almost no hope he'll sign a new lease."
Mrs. Downey carried the tray to the door. There she paused to inquire:
"Anything I can bring you, Penny? A book or a magazine?"
"No, thank you. But you might give me my portable typewriter. I think
I'll write a letter to Dad just to remind him he still has a daughter."
Pulling a table to the bedside, Mrs. Downey placed the typewriter and
paper on it before going away. Penny propped herself up with pillows and
rolled a blank sheet into the machine.
At the top of the page she pecked out: "Bulletin." After the dateline,
she began in her best journalistic style, using upper case letters:
"PENNY PARKER, ATTRACTIVE AND TALENTED DAUGHTER OF ANTHONY PARKER, WHILE
RIDING THE TAIL OF A RACING BOB-SLED WAS THROWN FOR A TEN YARD LOSS,
SUSTAINING NUMEROUS BRUISES. THE PATIENT IS BEARING HER SUFFERING WITH
FORTITUDE AND ANTICIPATES BEING IN CIRCULATION BY GLMLFFLS"
Penny stared at the last word she had written. Inadvertently, her fingers
had struck the wrong letters. She had intended to write "tomorrow." With
an exclamation of impatience she jerked the paper from the machine.
And then she studied the sentence she had typed with new interest. There
was something strangely familiar about the jumbled word, GLMLFFLS.
"It looks a little like that coded message I found!" she thought
excitedly.
Forgetting her bruises, Penny rolled out of bed. She struck the floor
with a moan of anguish. Hobbling over to the dresser, she found the scrap
of paper which she had saved, and brought it back to the bed.
The third word in the message was similar, although not the same as the
one she had written by accident. Penny typed them one above the other.
GLMLFFLS
GLULFFLS
"They're identical except for the third letter," she mused. "Why, I
believe I have it! You simply strike the letter directly below the true
one--that is, the one in the next row of keys. And when your true letter
is in the bottom row, you strike the corresponding key on the top row.
That's why I wrote an M for a U!"
Penny was certain she had deciphered the third word of the code and that
it was the same as she had written unintentionally. Quickly she wrote out
the entire jumbled message, and under it her translation.
YL GFZKY GLULFFLS
NO TRAIN TOMORROW
"That's it!" she chortled, bounding up and down in bed.
And then her elation fled away. A puzzled expression settled over her
face.
"I have it, only I haven't," she muttered. "What can the message mean?
There are no trains at Pine Top--not even a railroad station. This leaves
everything in a worse puzzle than before!"
CHAPTER
17
_STRANGE SOUNDS_
Penny felt reasonably certain that she had deciphered the code correctly,
but although she studied over the message for nearly an hour, she could
make nothing of it.
"No train tomorrow," she repeated to herself. "How silly! Perhaps it
means, no _plane_ tomorrow."
She worked out the code a second time, checking her letters carefully.
There was no mistake.
Later in the evening when Mrs. Downey stopped to inquire how she was
feeling, Penny asked her about the train service near Pine Top.
"The nearest railroad is thirty miles away," replied the woman. "It is a
very tedious journey to Pine Top unless one comes by airplane."
"Is the plane service under the control of the Fergus-Maxwell interests?"
"Not to my knowledge," returned Mrs. Downey, surprised by the question.
"This same airline company sent planes here even before the Fergus hotel
was built, but not on a regular schedule."
Left alone once more, Penny slipped the typewritten message under her
pillow and drew a long sigh. Somehow she was making no progress in any
line. From whom had Ralph Fergus received the coded note, and what was
its meaning?
"I'll never learn anything lying here in bed," she murmured gloomily.
"Tomorrow I'll get up even if it kills me."
True to her resolve, she was downstairs in time for breakfast the next
morning.
"Oh, Penny," protested Mrs. Downey anxiously, "don't you think you should
have stayed in bed? I can tell it hurts you to walk."
"I'll limber up with exercise. I may take a little hike down to the
village later on."
Mrs. Downey sadly shook her head. She thought that Penny had entirely too
much determination for her own good.
Until ten o'clock Penny remained at the lodge, rather hoping that Sara
Jasko would put in an appearance. When it was evident that the girl was
not coming, she bundled herself into warm clothing and walked painfully
down the mountain road. Observing old Peter Jasko in the yard near the
cabin, she did not pause but went on until she drew near the Fergus
hotel.
"I wish I dared go in there," she thought, stopping to rest for a moment.
"But I most certainly would be chased out."
Penny sat down on a log bench in plain view of the hostelry. Forming a
snowball, she tossed it at a squirrel. The animal scurried quickly to a
low-hanging tree branch and chattered his violent disapproval.
"Brother, that's the way I feel, too," declared Penny soberly. "You
express my sentiments perfectly."
She was still sunk in deep gloom when she heard a light step behind her.
Turning her head stiffly she saw Maxine Miller tramping through the snow
toward her.
"If it isn't Miss Parker!" the actress exclaimed with affected
enthusiasm. "How delighted I am to see you again, my dear. I heard about
the marvelous way you stopped the bob-sled yesterday. Such courage! You
deserve a medal."
"I would rather have some new skin," said Penny.
"I imagine you do feel rather bruised and battered," the actress replied
with a show of sympathy. "But how proud you must be of yourself! Everyone
is talking about it! As I was telling Mr. Jasko last night--"
"You were talking with Peter Jasko?" broke in Penny.
"Yes, he came to the hotel to see Mr. Fergus--something about a lease, I
think. Imagine! He hadn't heard a word about the accident, and his
granddaughter was in it!"
"You told him all about it I suppose?" Penny asked with a moan.
"Yes, he was tremendously impressed. Why, what is the matter? Do you have
a pain somewhere?"
"Several of them," said Penny. "Go on. What did Mr. Jasko say?"
"Not much of anything. He just listened. Shouldn't I have told him?"
"I am sorry you did, but it can't be helped now. Mr. Jasko doesn't like
to have his granddaughter ski or take any part in winter sports."
"Oh, I didn't know that. Then I did let the cat out of the bag. I thought
he acted rather peculiar."
"He was bound to have found out about it sooner or later," Penny sighed.
With a quick change of mood she inquired: "What's doing down at the
hotel? Any excitement?"
"Everything is about as usual. I've sold two fur coats. Don't you think
you might be interested in one yourself?"
"I would be interested but my pocketbook wouldn't."
"These coats are a marvelous bargain," Miss Miller declared. "Why don't
you at least look at them and try one on. Come down to the hotel with me
now and I'll arrange for you to meet my employer."
"Well--" Penny hesitated, "could we enter the hotel by the back way?"
"I suppose so," replied the actress in surprise. "You're sensitive about
being crippled?"
"That's right. I don't care to meet anyone I know."
"We can slip into the hotel the back way, then. Very few persons use the
rear corridors."
Penny and Miss Miller approached the building without being observed.
They entered at the back, meeting neither Ralph Fergus or Harvey Maxwell.
"Can you climb a flight of stairs?" the actress asked doubtfully.
"Oh, yes, easily. I much prefer it to the elevator."
"You really walk with only a slight limp," declared Miss Miller. "I see
no reason why you should feel so sensitive."
"It's just my nature," laughed Penny. "Lend me your arm, and up we go."
They ascended to the second floor. Miss Miller motioned for the girl to
sit down on a sofa not far from the elevator.
"You wait here and I'll bring my employer," she offered. "I'll be back in
a few minutes."
"Who is this man?" inquired Penny.
The actress did not hear the question. She had turned away and was
descending the stairs again to the lobby floor.
For a moment or two the girl sat with her head against the back rest of
the sofa, completely relaxed. The trip down the mountainside had tired
her more than she had expected. She was afraid she had made a mistake in
coming boldly to the hotel. If Harvey Maxwell caught her there he would
not treat her kindly.
As for seeing the fur coats, she had no intention of ever making a
purchase. She had agreed to look at them because she was curious to learn
the identity of Miss Miller's employer, as well as the nature of the
proposition which might be made her.
Presently, Penny's attention was directed to a distant sound, low and
rhythmical, carrying a staccato overtone.
At first the girl paid little heed to the sound. No doubt it was just
another noise incidental to a large hotel--some machine connected with
the cleaning services perhaps.
But gradually, the sound impressed itself deeper on her mind. There was
something strangely familiar about it, yet she could not make a positive
identification.
Penny arose from the sofa and listened intently. The sound seemed to be
coming from far down the left hand hall. She proceeded slowly, pausing
frequently in an effort to discover whence it came. She entered a side
hall and the noise increased noticeably.
Suddenly Penny heard footsteps behind her. Turning slightly she was
dismayed to see Ralph Fergus coming toward her. For an instant she was
certain he meant to eject her from the hotel. Then, she realized that his
head was down, and that he was paying no particular attention to her.
Penny kept her back turned and walked even more slowly. The man overtook
her, passed without so much as bestowing a glance upon her. He went to a
door which bore the number 27 and, taking a key from his pocket, fitted
it into the lock.
Penny would have thought nothing of his act, save that as he swung back
the door, the strange sound which previously had drawn her attention,
increased in volume. It died away again as the door closed behind Fergus.
Waiting a moment, Penny went on down the hall and paused near the room
where the hotel man had entered. She looked quickly up and down the hall.
No one was in sight.
Moving closer, she pressed her ear to the panel. There was no sound
inside the room, but as she waited, the rhythmical chugging began again.
And suddenly she knew what caused it--a teletype machine!
Often in her father's newspaper office Penny had heard that same sound
and had watched the printers recording news from all parts of the
country. There was no mistaking it, for she could plainly distinguish the
clicking of the type against the platen, the low hum of the machine
itself, the quick clang of the little bell at the end of each line of
copy.
"What would the hotel be doing with a teletype?" she mused. "They print
no newspapers here."
Into Penny's mind leaped a startling thought. The coded message in upper
case letters which Fergus had dropped in the snow! Might it not have been
printed by a teletype machine?
"But what significance _could_ it have?" she asked herself. "From what
office are the messages being sent and for what purpose?"
It seemed to Penny that the answer to her many questions might lie, not
in the Green Room as she had supposed, but close at hand in Number 27.
Her ear pressed to the panel, the girl made out a low rumble of voices
above the clatter of the teletype. Ralph Fergus was talking with another
man but she could not distinguish a word they were saying. So intent was
she that she failed to hear a step behind her.
A mop handle clattered to the floor, making a loud sound on the tiles.
Penny whirled about in confusion. A cleaning maid stood beside her,
regarding her with evident though unspoken suspicion.
CHAPTER
18
_QUESTIONS AND CLUES_
"Good morning," stammered Penny, backing from the door. "Were you wanting
to get into this room?"
"No, I never clean in there," answered the maid, still watching the girl
with suspicion. "You're looking for someone?"
Penny knew that she had been observed listening at the door. It would be
foolish to pretend otherwise.
She answered frankly: "No, I was passing through the corridor when I
heard a strange sound in this room. Do you hear it?"
The maid nodded and her distrustful attitude changed to one of
indifference.
"It's a machine of some sort," she answered. "I hear it running every
once in a while."
Penny was afraid to loiter by the door any longer lest her own voice
bring Ralph Fergus to investigate. As the cleaning woman picked up her
mop and started on down the hall, she fell into step with her.
"Who occupies Room 27?" she inquired casually.
"No one," said the maid. "The hotel uses it."
"What goes on in there anyway? I thought I heard teletype machines."
The maid was unfamiliar with the technical name Penny had used. "It's
just a contraption that prints letters and figures," she informed. "When
I first came to work at the hotel I made a mistake and went in there to
do some cleaning. Mr. Fergus, he didn't like it and said I wasn't to
bother to dust up there again."
"Doesn't anyone go into the room except Mr. Fergus?"
"Just him and George Jewitt."
"And who is he? One of the owners of the hotel?"
"Oh, no. George Jewitt works for Mr. Fergus. He takes care of the
machines, I guess."
"You were saying that the machine prints letters and figures," prompted
Penny. "Do you mean messages one can read?"
"It was writing crazy-like when I watched it. The letters didn't make
sense nohow. Mr. Fergus he told me the machines were being used in some
experiment the hotel was carrying on."
"Who occupies the nearby rooms?" Penny questioned. "I should think they
would be disturbed by the machines."
"Rooms on this corridor are never assigned unless everything else is full
up," the maid explained.
Pausing at a door, the cleaning woman fitted a master key into the lock.
"There's one thing more I'm rather curious about," said Penny quickly.
"It's this Green Room I hear folks mentioning."
The maid gazed at her suspiciously again. "I don't know anything about
any Green Room," she replied.
Entering the bedroom with her cleaning paraphernalia, she closed the door
behind her.
"Went a bit too far that time," thought Penny, "but at least I learned a
few facts of interest."
Turning, she retraced her steps to Room 27, but she was afraid to linger
there lest Ralph Fergus should discover her loitering in the hall. Miss
Miller had not put in an appearance when she returned to the elevators.
She decided not to wait.
Scribbling a brief note of explanation, Penny left the paper in a corner
of the sofa and hobbled down the stairway to the first floor. She let
herself out the back way without attracting undue attention. Safely in
the open once more she retreated to her bench under the ice-coated trees.
"I need to give this whole problem a good think," she told herself. "Here
I have a number of perfectly good clues but they don't fit together. I'm
almost as far from getting evidence against Fergus and Maxwell as I was
at the start."
Penny could not understand why the hotel would have need for teletype
machine service. Such machines were used in newspaper offices, for
railroad communication, brokerage service, and occasionally in very large
plants with widely separated branch offices. Suddenly she recalled that
her father had once told her Mr. Maxwell kept in touch with his chain of
hotels by means of such a wire service. Surely it was an expensive and
unnecessary means of communication.
The cleaning woman's information that messages came through in
unintelligible form convinced Penny a code was being used--a code to
which she had the key. But why did Maxwell and Fergus find it necessary
to employ one? If their messages concerned only the routine operation of
the various hotels in the chain, there would be no need for secrecy.
The one message she had interpreted--"No Train Tomorrow"--undoubtedly had
been received by teletype transmission. But Penny could not hazard a
guess as to its true meaning. She feared it might be in double code, and
that the words did not have the significance usually attributed to them.
"If only I could get into Room 27 and get my hands on additional code
messages I might be able to make something out of it," she mused. "The
problem is how to do it without being caught."
Penny had not lost interest in the Green Room. She was inclined to
believe that its mystery was closely associated with the communication
system of the hotel. But since, for the time being at least, the problem
of penetrating beyond the guarded Green Door seemed unsolvable, she
thought it wiser to center her sleuthing attack elsewhere.
"All I can do for the next day or so is to keep an eye on Ralph Fergus
and Harvey Maxwell," she told herself. "If I see a chance to get inside
Room 27 I'll take it."
Penny arose with a sigh. She would not be likely to have such a chance
unless she made it for herself. And in her present battered state, her
mind somehow refused to invent clever schemes.
The walk back up the mountain road was a long and tiring one. Finally
reaching the lodge after many pauses for rest, Penny stood for a time
watching the skiers, and then entered the house.
Mrs. Downey was not in the kitchen. Hearing voices from the living room,
Penny went to the doorway and paused there. The hotel woman was talking
with a visitor, old Peter Jasko.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Penny apologized for her intrusion. She started to
retreat.
Peter Jasko saw her and the muscles of his leathery face tightened.
Pushing back his chair he got quickly to his feet.
"You're the one who has been trespassing on my land!" he accused, his
voice unsteady from anger. "You've been helping my granddaughter disobey
my orders!"
Taken by surprise, Penny could think of nothing to say in her own
defense.
After his first outburst, Peter Jasko ignored the girl. Turning once more
to Mrs. Downey he said in a rasping voice:
"You have my final decision, Ma'am. I shall not renew the lease."
"Please, Mr. Jasko," Mrs. Downey argued quietly. "Think what this means
to me! If I lose the ski slopes I shall be compelled to give up the
lodge. I've already offered you more than I can afford to pay."
"Money ain't no object," the old man retorted. "I'm against the whole
proposition."
"Nothing I can say will make you reconsider?"
"Nothing, Ma'am."
Picking up his cap, a ridiculous looking affair with ear muffs, Peter
Jasko brushed past Penny and went out the door.
CHAPTER
19
_PETER JASKO SERVES NOTICE_
After the old man had gone, Penny spoke apologetically to Mrs. Downey.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I ruined everything, coming in just when I did."
Mrs. Downey sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window
after the retreating figure of Peter Jasko.
"No, it wasn't your fault, Penny."
"He was angry at me because I've been helping Sara get in and out of the
cabin. I never should have done it."
"Perhaps not," agreed Mrs. Downey, "but it would have made no difference
in regard to the lease. I've been expecting Jasko's decision. Even so, it
comes as a blow. This last week I had been turning ideas over in my mind,
trying to think of a way I could keep on here. Now everything is
settled."
Penny crossed the room and slipped an arm about the woman's shoulders.
"I'm as sorry as I can be."
With a sudden change of mood, Mrs. Downey arose and gave Penny's hand an
affectionate squeeze.
"Losing the lodge won't mean the end of the world," she said lightly.
"While I may not be able to sell the place for a very good price now that
the ski slopes are gone, I'll at least get something from Mr. Maxwell.
And I have a small income derived from my husband's insurance policy."
"Where will you go if you leave here?"
"I haven't given that part any thought," admitted Mrs. Downey. "I may do
a little traveling. I have a sister in Texas I might visit."
"You'll be lonesome for Pine Top."
"Yes," admitted Mrs. Downey, "this place will always seem like home to
me. And I've lived a busy, useful life for so many years it will be hard
to let go."
"Possibly Peter Jasko will reconsider his decision."
Mrs. Downey smiled and shook her head. "Not Peter. I've known him for
many years, although I can't say I ever became acquainted with him. Once
he makes a stand nothing can sway him."
"Is he entirely right in his mind?" Penny asked dubiously.
"Oh, yes. He's peculiar, that's all. And he's getting old."
Despite Mrs. Downey's avowal that no one was responsible for Peter
Jasko's decision, Penny considered herself at fault. She could not blame
the old man for being provoked because she had helped his granddaughter
escape from the cabin.
"If I went down there and apologized it might do some good," she thought.
"At least, nothing will be lost by trying."
Penny turned the plan over in her mind, saying nothing about it to Mrs.
Downey. It seemed to her that the best way would be to wait for a few
hours until Peter Jasko had been given an opportunity to get over his
anger.
The afternoon dragged on slowly. Toward nightfall, finding confinement
intolerable, Penny ventured out-of-doors to try her skis. She was
thrilled to discover that she could use them without too much discomfort.
Going to the kitchen window, she called to Mrs. Downey that she intended
to do a little skiing and might be late for dinner.
"Oh, Penny, you're not able," the woman protested, raising the sash.
"It's only your determination which drives you on."
"I'm feeling much better," insisted Penny. "I want to go down the
mountain and see Sara."
"It will be a hard climb back," warned Mrs. Downey. "And the radio
reported another bad storm coming."
"That's why I want to go now," answered Penny. "We may be snowbound by
tomorrow."
"Well, if you must go, don't overtax your strength," cautioned Mrs.
Downey.
Penny wrapped a woolen scarf tightly about her neck as a protection
against the biting wind. Cautiously, she skied down the trail, finding
its frozen surface treacherous, and scarcely familiar. In the rapidly
gathering dusk nothing looked exactly the same as by daylight. Trees
towered like unfriendly giants, obscuring the path.
Before Penny had covered half the distance to Jasko's cabin, snowflakes,
soft and damp, began to fall. They came faster and faster, the wind
whirling them directly into her face. She kept her head down and wished
that she had remained by the crackling log fire at the Downey lodge.
Swinging out of the forest, Penny was hard pressed to remember the trail.
As she hesitated, trying to decide which way to go, she felt her skis
slipping along a downgrade where none should have been. Too late, she
realized that she was heading down into a deep ravine which terminated in
an ice-sheeted river below.
Throwing herself flat, Penny sought to save herself, but she kept
sliding, sliding. A stubby evergreen at last stayed her fall. She clung
helplessly to it for a moment, recovering her breath. Then she tried to
pull herself up the steep incline. She slipped and barely caught hold of
the bush to save herself from another bad fall. Sharp pains shot through
her side.
"Now I've fixed myself for sure," she thought. "How will I ever get out
of this hole?"
The ravine offered protection from the chill wind, but the snow was
sifting down steadily. Penny could feel her clothing becoming thoroughly
soaked. If she should lie still she soon would freeze.
Again Penny tried to struggle up the bank, and again she slid backwards.
From sheer desperation rather than because she cherished a hope that
anyone would hear, Penny shouted for help.
An answering halloo echoed to her through the trees.
Penny dared not hope that the voice was other than her own. "Help! Help!"
she called once more.
Her heart leaped. The cry which came back definitely belonged to a man!
And as she marveled at the miracle of a rescue, a dark figure loomed up
at the rim of the ravine.
A gruff voice called to her: "Hold on! Don't try to move! I'll get a rope
and be back!"
The man faded back into the darkness. Penny clung to the bush until it
seemed her arms would break. Snow fell steadily, caking her hood and
penetrating the woolen suit.
Then as the girl lost all awareness of time, she caught the flash of a
lighted lantern. Her rescuer appeared again at the top of the ravine and
lowered a rope. She grasped it, wrapping it tightly about her wrist, and
climbed as best she could while the man pulled from above.
At last Penny reached the top, falling in an exhausted heap on the snow.
Raising her head she stared into the face of her rescuer. The man was
Peter Jasko.
He recognized her at the same instant.
"You!" he exclaimed.
For one disturbing moment Penny thought the old man meant to push her
back down into the yawning ravine. In the yellow glow of the lantern, the
expression of his face was terrifying.