The Mysterious Code (12 page)

“We can try it!” Jim exclaimed. “Only where will we find a rope?”

There was no sign of a rope around the old schoolroom. There was nothing but some twine used to tie the feed sacks.

“That idea is out,” Jim said. “Think of something else, Trixie. It’ll have to be quick, too, because it must be almost zero in this room right now.”

Jim blew his breath out. It came back to him in a cloud of steamy vapor.

“The school bell!” Trixie exclaimed. “It must have a rope! Right over there in the corner, Jim, back of you, in that little closet. Open the door!”

Jim opened the narrow door. There hung the frayed rope that was attached to the bell! Inside the small closet there was a narrow ladder. Jim climbed it, unfastened the rope, and dropped it to the floor.

“It’s almost worn through in several places,” Brian said, running it through his hands. “We’ll have to try it, though, Jim. Let’s go!”

Each boy wanted to be the one to go out into the storm. They could only decide by drawing lots, so Trixie held two pieces of straw. Jim drew the shorter one.

“I’ll fasten this end of the rope around my waist,” Brian said, “and stand right there outside the door.”

“I’ll put the other one around my waist,” Jim said.

Outside it were as though an angry giant had wrapped his great arms around the little schoolhouse trying to crush its sides and frosting its panes with his icy breath. Jim, caught up in the rush of wind, waved his arm gallantly and shouted, “Geronimo!” as he dashed into the storm.

While the talk had been going on, Reddy had rushed nervously back and forth across the room in front of the door. When Brian and Jim went out, he tried to dart ahead of them, but Trixie caught and held him. “You stay with me,” she commanded. “Down, Reddy!”

Before he left Jim had fastened his wrist watch around Trixie’s wrist. Seconds ticked away … minutes.… From time to time Trixie opened the door a crack to speak to Brian.

He and Jim had arranged a signal. If Jim found the woodpile he would jerk once on the rope. If he wanted to come back, he would jerk twice.

“Did you feel any motion on the rope yet?” Trixie asked Brian.

“Nothing,” he answered and huddled against the house. “Of course it slackens and tightens as he goes through the blizzard. It’s like the North Pole out here, Trixie. Go back indoors!”

Trixie turned.

“Wait!” Brian shouted. “There’s a jerk! Eureka, he’s found the wood! It won’t be long now till we have a fire. Go in and twist some of those empty paper bags that held bird seed, Trixie. Make a bed of them in the stove and we can kindle the wood chunks Jim will bring.”

Trixie hurried to do his bidding, then waited. Seconds ticked by … minutes … Jim did not come back.

“Where is he?” Trixie called through the door to Brian.

“I don’t know … the rope seems slack.… I just don’t know, Trixie,” Brian said and began slowly to pull the rope back. Soon he held up a dangling frayed end.

“It broke!” Brian said, despair choking his voice. “Jim’s out there someplace, and he can’t find his way back!”

Frantically they both shouted with all their strength, “Jim! Jim! Jim … Jim!”

The angry wind, triumphant, threw their voices back to them in a ghoulish echo.

“I’ll go after him,” Brian said, throwing the rope from him.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Trixie said. “You’d just get lost, too. There
must
be some way, Brian … 
some way!
Couldn’t we make a loud noise? A horn, maybe … that’s silly, there isn’t any.… One of those old pans Mr. Maypenny left here for feeding.… I could beat on that.… No, I know what I’ll do!”

Trixie was across the room in a flash and up the narrow ladder in the closet that led to the bell.

Once at the top, she swung the bell in its cradle. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Clang! Cling-clang! Clang! Clang! Jim! Jim!—Jim!—Jim!—Jim!—JIM!”

“Hallooooo!”

Was it the wail of the wind?

“Halloooo!”

No. It was Jim!

Covered with snow even to his eyelids, Jim stumbled through the door and dropped an armload of wood on the floor.

“It’s—not—very—far,” he said, panting. “A big—pile of it—but the rope broke. How did you happen to think about ringing the bell?” he asked, a smile breaking over his frosted, reddened face.

“We didn’t, at first,” Trixie confessed. “I don’t know why we didn’t. We thought of beating pans and things, then suddenly we remembered the bell.”

Jim had recovered his breath. “Start a fire going with this wood I’ve brought, Brian,” he said. “In a few minutes I’ll go out after some more.”

“No, you start the fire. I’ll go out this time,” Brian said.

Jim shook his head. “I know where the woodpile is, Brian. You don’t. At least I know the direction to start. It’s pretty close to the schoolhouse. If the noise of the storm hadn’t been so loud—keep ringing the bell if I don’t come back soon.”

In spite of Brian’s protest Jim tied the rope around his waist and started back. Trixie had doubled the rope so that if one strand broke the other might hold. This time, too, it was she who took up the post outside the door. Brian built the fire.

Back and forth Jim went successfully until a heap of wood stood inside the door. When the small wood stove burned bright and the red isinglass in the window on its door sent a rosy light into the darkened corners, the small schoolhouse seemed cozy and warm.

“Nine o’clock,” Trixie said and loosened Jim’s wrist watch to give it back to him. “Brian, I
wish
we had some way to let Moms know we are safe. She’s alone at the house with Bobby and Mart. I hope Mart doesn’t get the idea of starting out to look for us. Moms wouldn’t let him, though. I
wish
Daddy were home.”

“That’s what bothers me most of all,” Brian said. “The wind seems to have slackened. Don’t you think I’d better make a run for it?”

“No!” Jim’s voice was stern, decisive. “No one in this place is going to leave tonight.”

“You don’t need to be so commanding,” Brian said. “You know how Moms will worry.”

“Of course I do,” Jim said, “and I know that my mother is worrying, too, and Honey, but there isn’t a thing they can do or we can do until daylight. My dad’s in the city, too. I know this, though, and you should know it, too. Your mother and my mother have confidence in us and will be pretty sure we can take care of ourselves and Trixie.”

“She won’t
know
it, though,” Trixie said, tears coming unbidden to her eyes, “and Moms is
so
good to us. She’ll be afraid we don’t have anything to eat.”

“We don’t,” Brian said, glad to change the subject before Trixie broke down. “Let’s look into the bird seed situation. If it’s for the birds, it could be for us, too.”

“Sure,” Jim said. “I’ll go get some snow to melt on top of the stove, and Trixie, you stir up a delicious porridge with some of the latest thing in cereal—bird seed.”

“We’ll pretend it’s one of Moms’ casseroles,” Trixie said, never sad for long, and entering into the game. “I’m
stirring up chicken and noodles,” she said, setting a scrubbed pan on the stove, and stirring the bird seed into the water. “Can’t you smell the noodles bubbling in the good broth?”

“Help!” Brian cried. “I can
really
smell chicken, but the letdown is going to be too much when I taste it.”

“Here’s your share, Reddy,” Trixie said and fixed a bowl for the big red setter, cooling it for him with fresh snow. “He acts so queer, Brian, don’t you think? He keeps running back and forth in front of the door.”

“Probably smells a rabbit,” Jim said.

“He likes the bird seed anyway,” Brian said. “I don’t think the storm is quite so severe. I’ll take a look.”

He opened the door and in a flash Reddy was through it, bounding away through the huge drifts.

No command could bring him back. They called and called, but heard no answering bark.

“It must have been a rabbit, as you said, Jim,” Trixie said.

“I was just joking,” Jim said. “Even a bird dog couldn’t smell a rabbit in this snowstorm. He’s gone, though. He’ll come barking around the place later, see if he doesn’t.”

“I wonder,” Trixie said. “Do you think he could have gone to get help for us?”

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Brian said. “He’s a pretty smart dog.”

“Moms will be even more worried if Reddy shows up without us. Why
couldn’t
Mr. Maypenny have a telephone in this place?”

“So he could talk to the animals?” Jim inquired. “Be yourself, Trixie. Let’s play Twenty Questions. We’re stuck here till morning, and we might as well make the best of it. Think of a subject, Trixie.”

Trixie, a little ashamed, brushed her hand over her eyes. “I’ve something in mind,” she said.

“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” Brian asked.

For a while the game went on. Outside the wind slackened, whined around the schoolhouse, and finally died to a whisper. There was no sound of barking, no sign of Reddy. Trixie, her eyes drooping with the warmth of the fire, blurred the words in trying to play the game.

“I’ll pull one of the benches over to the fire,” Jim said, aware of Trixie’s exhaustion. “It’ll be better than sitting on this dirty, hard, cold floor.”

He and Brian pushed the heavy feed sacks off a bench, drew it to the fire. “You can rest here till daylight,” Jim said.

“I won’t even try to rest unless you and Brian do,” Trixie said, her eyes nearly closing.

So Jim and Brian unloaded the other two benches and drew them close to the other side of the stove.

The boys stretched their tired lengths, and soon their heavy breathing told Trixie they were sound asleep.

It wasn’t so easy for her. Pictures of home, of Bobby, her mother and her worry about their welfare, the concern of the Wheeler family—Honey just adored her new brother Jim—Reddy, and his strange escape into the snow, a lingering horror of Jim’s narrow escape when the rope had broken—all these thoughts crowded sleep from Trixie’s weary mind and body.

The quiet was so profound that Trixie could hear the ticking of Jim’s wrist watch. Gradually she became aware of another sound—outside—muffled—crackling twigs—movement—Reddy?

Reddy, of course.

Trixie slipped from her bench and went to the window. The warmth of the stove had melted the frost enough so she could see through. The clouds had dispersed and a wan moon sent a white path of light through the snow.

Trixie, peering through the window, could see no sign of Reddy. She did see something else. Just leaving the clearing, a dark shape waddled off into the wood. An
animal? A man? That was ridiculous. No man would be in the woods on a night like this. What could it be then?

Frightened, Trixie turned back into the room to arouse the boys. They slept so peacefully.

They’d just make fun of me
, she thought.
They’d say I was imagining things. Maybe they’re right. Mart says my bump of imagination is overdeveloped. Maybe—maybe—he’s—right
. Trixie yawned, stretched, and fell exhausted onto the bench, drew the collar of her coat across her eyes, and slept.

A rosy light from the rising sun filled the room and wakened the boys.

“Look at the morning!” Jim cried. “The sun is out. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. We can get out of here. I’ll stoke the fire to warm us well before we leave.”

“Do you want more porridge?” Trixie asked, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“Not on your life,” Brian answered. “Not with Moms’ pancakes waiting at home.”

“I thought I heard Reddy in the night,” Trixie said. “I heard something anyway—then I saw something.”

“A raccoon, perhaps,” Brian said, “maybe a wolf, or, more likely, a big lump of your vivid imagination.”

“It wasn’t that,” Trixie said, as she wrapped her
wool scarf tight around her head. “Let’s hurry and get started for home.”

She stepped briskly out into the snow. There in the path, almost close enough to trip over it, lay a bundle wrapped in a tattered quilt.

“What do you suppose it is?” Trixie asked. “And where did it come from?”

Jim poked it gingerly with his toe. “A raccoon couldn’t have left it, Brian,” he said. “As impossible as it seems, Trixie, you really must have heard someone outside this schoolhouse toward morning.” He pulled back the quilt and there, good as new, lay the carved oak lap desk!

Even as they lifted it up to be sure it was real, Reddy, barking furiously, bounded up.

Close behind him came Regan, then Tom, from the Manor House, struggling through the drifts.

“Are you all right?” Regan called. “Is Trixie all right? Jim? Brian? All well?”

“We’re fine,” Trixie called out happily. “We were just starting for home. How did you find us?”

“I got worried because Jim hadn’t come back with Jupiter,” Regan said. “I knew he wasn’t riding around in the heavy snow. Just about that time your mother called, Trixie, and said that Reddy had come back and was barking and acting strangely.”