The Mystery of Jockey Hollow

  CHAPTER III Arden Wonders

  Communing with herself, Arden Blake, as she dashed out of the strange oldmansion, was wondering just what it was all about and what, exactly, hadhappened.

  Dick, anxious about the horses and doubtless believing there was nodanger to Arden, who had been left to be the last out of the house, didnot pause as she called to him.

  "She'll be in the open in another second," reflected the young groom.

  As she hastened out Arden had many conflicting thoughts.

  "Another mystery," she told herself, half whispering. "Can there beghosts? If ever there was a place made for them, Sycamore Hall is. Butghosts in the daytime! Perhaps those men did it to annoy us for comingaround while they are working. But what object could they have in doingthat? Oh, if it's another mystery, I hope it turns out as well as the onein the orchard did."

  At last she was away from the strange big house, and she fairly jumpeddown the broad steps. With a sigh of relief she saw the girls and Dick.

  Outside, the horses were straining at their bridles. With ears laid backand eyes frightened, every now and then one gave a nervous little tap onthe hard ground with dainty fore feet.

  Sim tried to mount Teddy unassisted, but every time she put her foot inthe stirrup the frisky animal wheeled about, leaving her hoppinghelplessly. At last Dick had to hold him while Sim climbed up. Thenhelping up Arden and Terry, Dick mounted his own horse with practisedease, and they turned away from the ghost house.

  So nervous were the animals that the girls did little talking. They wereoccupied in keeping them under control. Dick cautioned them about lettingthe horses bolt. Headed to the stables as they were, once they got goingit would be difficult to stop them, and a dash across the heavy trafficstreets of Pentville would be dangerous.

  Arden did manage, when her horse settled down a bit and danced alongbeside Dick's for a stretch, to ask him what had gotten into theirusually well behaved mounts.

  "They're frightened at something," he answered. "They were scared stiffwhen we came out."

  "So were we all," Arden admitted. "Do you suppose the horses could feelour fright?"

  "Some people claim that a horse feels his rider's every mood," Dickanswered. "I really don't know. But I surely believe these horses sensedsomething, perhaps more than we did. But----" Then Dick's shining blackmare broke into a sudden trot, and he could not finish what he started tosay.

  But Arden was persistent. She urged her steed forward and was againriding beside the groom while Terry and Sim pranced on ahead.

  "Do you believe in ghosts, Dick?"

  He hesitated a moment and then slowly answered: "I believe that peopleoften see just what they expect to see in haunted houses, so called, andhear just what they want to hear."

  Arden was plainly disappointed at this matter-of-factness on Dick's part.She had hoped for something more concrete than this. But rememberingDick's, or, rather, his grandmother's, connection with Sycamore Hall, shedid not press her point.

  "Let's catch up to the others," she proposed, and Dick assenting, theywere soon close behind Terry and Sim, who were still talking soothinglyto their mounts to quiet the restless animals. After a ride of severalmiles through woodland they reached a straight open stretch of road andbroke into a smart canter. The girls were a little breathless when theydismounted at the stables.

  "Do you young ladies want to make another date for the end of the week?"asked Titus Ellery, owner of the riding academy, as he came forward onmuch-bowed legs. He was not an attractive man, but he knew horses. Ratherstingy and grasping was his reputation. "How about it?" He was respectfulenough but persistent.

  Sim spoke up.

  "Not just now. We'll phone." Telling Dick to "charge it," she and thegirls walked toward the waiting roadster.

  Dick opened the door.

  "Don't let this adventure scare you," he said in a low voice. "It wasprobably nothing but those excited men imagining something." He seemedworried lest they cancel further riding engagements during the holidays,and Dick probably made a little commission.

  "Don't worry," Terry answered. "We loved it! See you later; and thanks,Dick!"

  They were off, Sim driving with a little less than her usual abandon.Arden was the first to notice it.

  "What's the matter?" she asked. "Scared?"

  "No, just thinking."

  "It was queer," murmured Terry. "I was really frightened."

  "The men were, anyhow," said Arden. "And when we heard those bumpingsounds coming out of an old uninhabited house----" She shivered a little.

  "Probably falling plaster!" laughed Sim.

  "I'm not so sure of that," said Arden.

  "She's thinking of what happened in the orchard," remarked Terry.

  "Well, something happened there all right," Arden responded.

  "Let's forget it a while," proposed Sim, and she stepped on the gas inher usual manner.

  Home again, they were greeted at the door by the smiling Moselle whoanswered their ring.

  "You-all have a nice ride?" she asked cheerfully.

  "Grand," answered Terry. "And we met up with some very fine ghosts,Moselle."

  "_Ghosts?_" Moselle's eyes were wide.

  "Over by Sycamore Hall," Terry continued.

  "Um--uumm!" Moselle shook her head. "I don't know what your mother willsay, Miss Sim. Chasing after ghosts. You-all ought to keep away from thatplace. I know it's dangerous. Plumb full of ha'nts, that what it is."

  "Why, Moselle! Do you know anything about it?" Sim asked, surprised.

  "Yes'm, Miss Sim, I sure does! Only las' night Brutus Jackson tole me hewas going to work there 'cause he needed a little change, and ain't halfhour ago he came dashing into my kitchen with Sam Brown and tell me theydone quit."

  "He did--why?" Arden frantically signaled Sim to let her continue thequestioning of Moselle.

  "Why, he say," went on the colored woman, "a funny old soldier with abloody bandage around his haid come clumping down the stairs and stoodpointing for Sam and him to get out the door and, yes, ma'am, he say theysure did git!" Moselle made unbelieving noises.

  Terry turned to Sim. "Gosh, I'm sorry we didn't stay. What'd you run for,Sim?"

  Sim started to reply, but seeing Moselle listening intently saidcasually, "Oh, I just felt like it." Then, addressing the curious cook,she asked: "How about lunch, Moselle?"

  "Yes'm, Miss Sim, in just a few minutes. You-all got time to change ifyou like," she said, quick to realize she was being dismissed.

  "Good! Come on then, kids, let's go up;" and before Arden or Terry couldask any more questions Sim, taking them by the elbows, steered them upthe stairs.

  By unspoken consent they gathered in Sim's room.

  "Gee, Arden, I was afraid Moselle would get all worked up, and then youknow what she'd do? Write to Mother and Dad and get them all excited. Shedoesn't miss a thing. And she's very superstitious."

  "I forgot about her," Terry admitted pulling a turtle-necked sweater overher head. "Wounded soldier! I guess that's what we heard. Certainlysounded like footsteps to me. Don't you love it? What did Dick say,Arden?"

  "Not much," Arden answered. "We were too busy with the horses. Did younotice how scared they were?"

  "Say," interrupted Sim happily, "won't Dot love this! Bet she won't wantto sit around and play contract now."

  "Oh, contract--who wants to do that? There's something queer about thatplace, and I'm going to find out what it is before I have to go back toschool," announced Arden emphatically.

  "We're with you, Arden! You can't leave us out of any such excitement asthat," Terry decided. "Can she, Sim?"

  "I should say not!" Sim said, and striking a dramatic pose sang out: "Allfor one, one for all! Arden, Terry, and Sim!"

  "And Dorothy," supplemented Arden. "She'll be here tomorrow. Let's takeher out to see the house in the afternoon."

  "Yes," agreed Sim. "That will be fun, and maybe we'll see the s
oldier."

  At this point in their plans the dulcet tones of the luncheon bell couldbe heard coming from below, and Terry was obliged to slip her sweater onagain. In the end they all ate in riding clothes and talked of subjectsfar from their minds lest Althea, who was serving, should carry ghoststories back to her mother in the kitchen.

  The lamb chops were done to a turn, and the peas were startling in theirlovely greenness. The pie, lemon meringue, was a fluffy dainty thatdisappeared with remarkable quickness when put before the girls.

  Everything in its place was their motto; ghosts belonged to JockeyHollow, and food came under Moselle's supervision. After a half year ofcollege fare, food was, after all, important.

  Arden Blake, Terry Landry, and Sim Westover had been schoolmates andchums ever since they started in Vincent Prep. They were graduated at thesame time and went to Cedar Ridge College for their freshman yeartogether. The first term of the college had just ended and they were homefor the Christmas holidays.

  As told in the first volume of this Arden Blake mystery series, entitled_The Orchard Secret_, almost as soon as the three freshmen signed in atCedar Ridge things began happening. There was something strange about thecollege orchard, where so many gnarled, weird, black trees stretched uptheir waving branches in the night. And when Arden saw the poster of themissing and rich Henry Pangborn, there was another complication.

  But Arden and her two chums solved the puzzle, much to the benefit of thecollege swimming pool, which had had to be abandoned because there was nomoney to repair it. And thus Sim remained at college, for she wasdetermined to become an expert swimmer and diver, and when she had foundthe swimming pool was so sadly out of commission, she had threatened toleave. But Arden's success in solving the mystery had made everything allright.

  When the three girls had finished lunch in Sim's beautiful home on theoutskirts of Pentville, a few miles from Jockey Hollow, Arden went to thelibrary across the hall and began to scan the shelves impatiently.

  "Know anything about these books, Sim?" she asked.

  "Yes, of course I do. What do you want to know?"

  "I want to find out something about our Revolution. Perhaps we can get avolume that will tell who really lived in Sycamore Hall in JockeyHollow."

  "That's a great idea, Arden! At times you seem almost brilliant," laughedSim.

  "Well, suppose you help me to shine a bit," Arden proposed.

  "Let me help," begged Terry.

  They delved among the books but though they found some American historylore and much about the Revolution, there was nothing on Jockey Hollow orSycamore Hall.

  "I'll have to try somewhere else," Arden sighed.

  The girls spent most of the afternoon talking over their strangeadventure, at times hardly believing it had happened, again with a littlethrill of fear mingled with doubt as to what it all meant.

  "Well, I'm going to find out something," finally announced Arden theimpetuous.

  "How?" drawled Sim.

  "I'm going to the library. They ought to have something there aboutJockey Hollow. Goodness knows it was important enough!"

  "Tell us when you come back," begged Terry.

  "Don't you want to come with me?"

  "No. I'm for a nap. Riding always makes me drowsy."

  "I'm with you, Terry," announced Sim. "Come on."

  She led the way upstairs, where she and Terry changed from riding clothesto lounging pajamas. But Arden donned a polo coat and low-heeled shoesand started out.

  "Don't you want my car?" sleepily called Sim, lolling on her bed.

  "No, I'm going to walk, thank you."

  She was on her way, though she scarcely realized it, to the beginning ofanother strange mystery.