"At night fog rises up from the valley and gives the place a spooky look.
Years ago a tramp was killed there. No one ever did learn the how or why
of it."
"What was it you saw?" Penny inquired.
"Can't rightly say," Quigley returned soberly. "I was on this same
turnpike when I chanced to glance up toward that big rock. I saw
something there in the mist and then the next minute it was gone."
"Not the Headless Horseman?" Penny asked.
"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I'd have thought I imagined it only I
heard clattering hoofbeats. But I can tell you one thing about this
valley."
"What's that?" asked Louise.
"All the inhabitants are said to be bewitched! That's why I act so crazy
myself."
Penny tossed her head. "Oh, you're just laughing at us," she accused. "I
suppose it does sound silly to say we came here searching for a Headless
Horseman."
"No, it's not in the least silly," Quigley corrected. "I might pay you a
compliment by saying you impress me as very courageous young ladies. May
I offer a word of advice?"
"Thank you, I don't think we care for it."
"Nevertheless, I aim to give it anyway." Quigley grinned down at Penny.
"You see, I know who you are. You're Anthony Parker's daughter, and
you've built up a reputation for solving mysteries."
Penny was astonished for she had not mentioned her father's name.
"Never mind how I knew," said Quigley, forestalling questions. "Here's my
tip. No one ever will collect Burmaster's reward offer. So don't waste
time and energy trailing a phantom."
"Why do you say the reward never will be collected?"
Quigley would not answer. With a provoking shake of his head, he pointed
down the pike to an unpainted cabin and a huge new barn.
"That's the Malcom place," he said. "If I'm not mistaken your missing
horse is grazing by the gate. Goodbye and good luck."
With a friendly, half-mocking salute, he wheeled his mount. The next
instant horse and rider had crashed through a gap in the roadside brush
and were lost to view.
CHAPTER
5
_SLEEPY HOLLOW ESTATE_
"I'm afraid that young man was having fun at our expense," Penny remarked
after horse and rider had gone. "How do you suppose he knew about my
father?"
"Read it in a newspaper probably. You've both made the headlines often
enough." Louise sighed wearily and shifted positions. "I certainly wish
we never had come here."
"Well, I don't," Penny said with emphasis. She clucked to Bones and when
he failed to move smartly along, gave him a quick jab with her heels. "If
Joe Quigley won't tell us about that galloping ghost, perhaps Mr. Malcom
will."
"I'll settle for my missing horse," Louise responded.
The girls jogged on down the road toward the Malcom cabin. Already the
hills were casting long blue shadows over the valley floor. With night
fast approaching Penny began to wonder where they could seek lodging.
"You don't catch me staying at the Malcom place," Louise said, reading
her chum's thought. "It's too ramshackle."
Drawing nearer the cabin, both girls were elated to see White Foot
grazing contentedly in a stony field adjoining the Malcom barn yard. At
the gate Penny alighted nimbly and threw it open so that Louise could
ride through.
The creaking of the rusty hinges brought Silas Malcom from the
tumble-down house. He stared blankly for a moment and then recognized
Penny.
"Well, bless my heart," he said. "If it ain't the young lady that helped
me at the newspaper office!"
"And now it's your turn to help us," laughed Penny. "We've lost our
horse."
"I knowed somebody would be along for her purty soon," the old man
chuckled. "She run into the barn yard 'bout ten minutes ago an' I turned
her out to graze. I'll git her for you."
If Mr. Malcom was surprised to see Penny so far from Riverview he did not
disclose it. He asked no questions. Hobbling to the fence, he whistled a
shrill blast. White Foot pricked up her ears and then came trotting over
to nuzzle the old man's hand.
"You certainly have that horse under control," said Penny admiringly. "I
guess it's all in the way you handle 'em."
"It's also all in the way you handle a Flying Fortress or a stick of
dynamite," Louise cut in. "You may have my share of horses!"
"White Foot didn't throw you off?" Mr. Malcom inquired.
"Oh, no," Louise assured him, and explained how the horse had run away.
Old Silas chuckled appreciatively. "White Foot always did have a habit o'
sneakin' off like that. Raised her from a colt, but sold her to Williams
down in Hobostein when I got short o' cash."
Wrapping the reins about a hitching post, the old man allowed his gaze to
wander toward the valley. With a gesture that was hard to interpret, he
indicated the long stretch of fertile pasture land, golden grain fields
and orderly rows of young orchard trees.
"See that!" he commanded.
"It's a beautiful valley," Louise murmured politely.
"It's mor'n that," corrected the old man. "You're lookin' at one o' the
richest parcels o' land in this here state. Me and the old woman lived
down there fer goin' on twenty years. Then we was put out o' our cabin.
Now that penny-pinchin' Burmaster owns every acre fer as you can see--not
countin' the village o' Delta an' three acres held fer spite by the
Widder Lear."
Old Silas took a chew of tobacco and pointed to a trim little log cabin
visible through a gap in the trees.
"Stands out like a sore thumb, don't it? Burmaster's done everything he
can to git rid o' that place, but the Widder Lear jes' sits tight an'
won't have no dealings with him. Says that if the old skinflint comes
round her place again she's goin' to drive him off with a shotgun."
Penny and Louise waited, hoping that the old man would tell more. After a
little silence, he resumed meditatively:
"The Widder was the smartest o' the lot of us. From the first she said
Burmaster was out to gobble up all the best land for hisself. Nobody
could get her to sign no papers. That's why she's got her little place
today and the rest of us is tryin' to make a livin' out o' these stone
patches."
"Burmaster forced all of the valley folk off their land?" Penny inquired,
perplexed. "How could he do that?"
"Some of 'em sold out to him," Old Silas admitted. "But mostly the land
was owned by a rich feller in Boston. He never paid no attention to his
holdings 'cept to collect a bit o' rent now and then. But last spring he
up and sold out to Burmaster, and we was all told to git off the land."
Penny nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that was entirely legal. If Mr.
Burmaster bought and paid for the land one couldn't accuse him of
dishonest dealings."
"I ain't accusin' nobody o' nothin'," Old Silas replied. "I'm jes'
tellin' you how things are in this here valley. Ye came to find out about
that Headless Horseman, didn't ye?"
"Well, yes, we did," Penny acknowledged.
"Figured you would. You'll never win that reward Burmaster's offerin',
but you could do a heap o' good in this here valley."
"How?" asked Penny, even more puzzled.
"You got a pa that runs a big city newspaper. When he prints an editorial
piece in that paper o' his, folks read it and pay attention."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"You will after you been here awhile," the old man chuckled. "Where you
gals calculatin' to spend the night?"
"I wish we knew."
"Me and the ole woman'd be glad to take you in, only we ain't got no room
fitten for city-raised gals. The Widder Lear'll be glad to give you bed
and fodder."
The girls thanked Mr. Malcom, though secretly they were sure they would
keep on until they reached Delta. A suspicion was growing in Penny's mind
that she had not come to the valley of her own free will. Rather she had
been lured there by Old Silas' Headless Horseman tale. She had assumed
the old fellow to be a simple, trusting hillman, while in truth he meant
to make use of her.
"Calculate you're anxious-like to git down to the valley 'fore night sets
on," the old man resumed. "The turnpike's no fitten place for a gal after
dark."
"You think we might meet the Headless Horseman?" Penny asked, smiling.
Old Silas deliberately allowed the question to pass.
"Jes' follow the turnpike," he instructed. "You'll come fust to the
Burmaster place. Then on beyond is the Widder Lear's cabin. She'll treat
you right."
Penny had intended to ask Old Silas if he still had a spinning wheel for
sale. However, a glimpse of the darkening sky warned her there was no
time to waste. She and Louise must hasten on unless they expected to be
overtaken by night.
"Goodbye," Penny said, vaulting into the saddle. "We'll probably see you
again before we leave the valley."
"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.