  The rest of the week went by without further news. Jim was unable to get the Tuesday morning paper, the one most likely to contain news of the murder. They searched all the others, but with no success. Timothy and he were still completely in the dark as to what efforts the police were making. They could only make guesses. Jim was enjoying himself however. He was playing an important part in a serious and exciting game. He kept Timothy well supplied with food, reveling in his mysterious errands. While at home, time hung very heavily on his hands. He felt that he should be doing something. He was bothered about Jean. He was not going to underestimate her again, and he knew she was watching him carefully. Also, her birthday was approaching. She mentioned the matter several times; so he knew she had not forgotten the promise he had made. While he supposed Timothy could hide elsewhere on that day, it would be difficult to remove all traces of his recent occupancy. Also, part of the safety of the hide-out would be destroyed once Jean knew the way. Before it had been merely a matter of personal pride that kept Jim from telling Jean. Now it was a serious matter—a man’s life was involved. To cover up his nervousness and unrest, Jim began teaching Ticktock a few new tricks. He had long since taught the mustang to stand quietly in one spot when his reins were dangling, not to crop grass while a rider was in the saddle, and various other accomplishments of a good riding horse. Now he tried a new idea. He enlisted the aid of his sister for the instruction. Jim would go a few feet away from his sister and the horse, then Jean would say, “Ticktock, go to Jim.” When the mustang did as he was told, he would receive a piece of sugar or apple as a reward. The process would then be reversed and the pony told to go to Jean. They gradually lengthened the distance until finally Jean was some distance down the road. Ticktock caught on rapidly, trotting back and forth between the two carrying out his orders. In a few days he was thoroughly schooled. Jim then began instructing Jean in riding. Much of his information had been picked up only recently from Timothy, who had a vast store of knowledge about horses and riding in general. The horse trainer had once worked in a riding academy and had given riding lessons. Jim was an apt pupil and followed his new teacher’s advice religiously. He seldom had to be told twice. He learned the proper way to sit in the saddle, how to hold the reins correctly and various do’s and don’ts of riding. For the first time he heard of the art of posting. All this information was passed on to Jean. Jim spoke in such an authoritative manner that Jean knew he was not inventing his technical terms or making up his riding lore. There had been a noticeable improvement in his riding lately which she hadn’t failed to see. As a detective, Jean put her brother to shame. She missed nothing. Aware that Jim had not been visiting anyone she knew who was a riding expert, she said nothing but continued to observe. She hadn’t missed the frequent trips to town and other rides in the direction of Briggs Woods. As for the milk and eggs that disappeared, she had noted that bit of information down too. When Jim slipped away with a watermelon, she definitely decided something very mysterious was taking place. Jean considered the theory that someone was giving her brother riding instruction and information for which he was paying in food. But why was he so mysterious about it all. If he was openly taking lessons from someone, he would be certain to talk about it, even boast somewhat. No, there was more to the matter than was covered by such a simple explanation. She was just as decisive as her brother and even though only ten, when she made up her mind, she acted. So she devised a plan. Jean had long since gotten over her timidity concerning Ticktock and had ridden him occasionally before. Now she applied herself and obediently followed Jim’s instructions. She began riding Ticktock daily around the farm. Mr. Meadows was somewhat opposed to the idea, as he thought his daughter was too young to be riding Ticktock. Although small for a mustang and called a ranch pony, Ticktock was far from being any Shetland pony. Any fall from his back would be a long distance for such a small girl. Although he no longer had any worries about Jim and Ticktock, Mr. Meadows still considered the mustang to be rather high-spirited and apt to be vicious with anyone who didn’t know him too well. In spite of the parental disapproval, Jean spent more time each day learning to ride on the little horse. Friday Jim had to help his father all day. At noon Jean asked to ride Ticktock; so Jim saddled the horse and then went back to the field with his father. After several hours of intermittent riding around the yard, Jean decided that the time had come for action. Casually she went into the house to find her mother. “I think I’ll ride down the road a way,” she announced. “Be careful,” warned her mother, who did not share her husband’s fears about Ticktock. “Sure. I may be gone a little while so don’t worry.” As soon as she was out of sight of the house, Jean urged the mustang to a faster pace and headed toward the woods. She knew the trail to the hide-out began somewhere near the middle of the forest. It was very gloomy in the heavy shade, but that just added to the excitement for her. Resolutely she rode on. Had Jean allowed Ticktock to have his head once they were in the forest, he would have undoubtedly taken her straight to the hideaway, as he had Timothy. The way was old and familiar to him now. But Jean insisted on directing the little horse. While she had taken quite a few peeks on her blindfolded trip to the hide-out, she hadn’t seen quite enough. Jim had circled and doubled back, which misled her too. The woods were confusing, one trail or stream looking like another. She knew they had roughly followed a stream for a distance, so she chose one and boldly plunged into the woods. It was difficult riding, trying to duck branches or push them out of the way. Jean couldn’t tell too well where she was going, and after some distance she began to be discouraged and tired. She was determined, however. Any trouble was acceptable if she could only show up her brother and find the hideaway. She was certain that if she found the place she would also solve the mystery of why he was now taking away perishable food. Seeing nothing that looked familiar, Jean stopped for a few minutes to rest and get her bearings. As she did so, she saw a tree loaded with persimmons on the opposite bank of the stream. She dismounted and picked a spot to cross. It was a tiny rivulet, but it had deep steep banks from the spring floods. She walked upstream until she found a spot where she could cross. Returning to the tree, she began climbing. She was reaching out for a particularly large persimmon when she lost her balance and fell. She landed on her back with a breath-taking thump and then tumbled on down the bank of the stream. Her right foot hit a rock at the bottom and doubled under her. There was a wrench and a horribly sharp pain. Her scream of anguish brought Ticktock to the bank. He peered down at the huddled heap at the bottom. Peering down at the huddled heap Jean lay moaning and crying for some minutes. The pain subsided a little, so she sat up and dried her tears. She wanted nothing now but to get back to Ticktock and go home. Cautiously she tried standing. The slightest weight on her foot brought a yell of pain. She got back on her knees and tried crawling up the bank. It was too steep, the soft ground caving in and letting her slide back down to the bottom. If she had had the use of both legs, she might have managed to scramble up to the top, but it was impossible in her crippled state. Discouraged and frightened, she gave up and began to cry. No one could find her, she was certain. Ticktock couldn’t get down to where she was and she couldn’t climb to him. She was tired, dirty, and her ankle hurt. She looked at the injured member, which was swelling rapidly. It was nearly twice as large as her left ankle. The sight frightened her even more. Perhaps it was broken, and she would just have to stay there and slowly starve. Ticktock looked down solicitously. He knew something was wrong but didn’t quite know what to do about it. He stepped closer to the bank to see better, but it began to crumble. He moved back out of danger and waited patiently. After Jean had cried herself out, she began to think calmly once more. At least it was comforting to have Ticktock standing by, even though she couldn’t use him. Jean was a resourceful little girl who didn’t give up too easily. She considered all possible ways out of her predicament and finally had an idea. She would send Ticktock for help. “Ticktock, go to Jim!” she ordered, sitting up. “Go on home to Jim!” Ticktock hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Jean, as he knew she was in trouble. Also, he had been taught to stand still while his reins were dangling. He stirred indecisively. “Go on, go home to Jim,” repeated Jean commandingly. It was an order; so the mustang decided to obey. He started off. He went a few paces and then looked around mournfully over his shoulder, hoping his instructions would be changed. Jean simply repeated her words. Reluctantly he went back through the woods and headed for home. He began trotting down the road. Repeatedly he stepped on his reins and jerked his head down savagely. Finally one sharp jerk broke them and he went rapidly down the road with his broken reins trailing behind him on the ground. Mrs. Meadows became alarmed about four-thirty at her daughter’s long absence. Finally she could stand the worry no longer. She went to the big dinner bell in the back yard and rang it vigorously. It was used to summon her husband from the fields, and she knew he would come running at once on hearing the bell ring at this unexpected hour of the day. Mr. Meadows and Jim left their work and headed for the house immediately. Jim’s mother had just finished explaining when Ticktock appeared over the hill, riderless. The little mustang was covered with sweat and dust. The farther he went from Jean the more the pony realized something was decidedly amiss. His only thought was to hurry home to Jim. Jim was his god and could solve all things. He dashed into the yard and obediently slid to a halt in front of the boy. He had carried out instructions. Mr. Meadows looked at the lather-covered mustang with his broken reins. “If that horse has thrown Jean and hurt her, I’ll kill him.” Worried as he was, Jim did not fail to rise to the defense of his beloved horse. “He wouldn’t throw Jean. Maybe she fell off and he came back for me.” “Well, I’m going to get the car and go back along the way he came,” announced Carl Meadows decisively. Jim tied a hasty knot in the reins and climbed up on Ticktock’s back. “Take me to Jean,” he said. “Go to Jean.” Ticktock was not indecisive this time. He turned around and started back rapidly down the road. Mrs. Meadows and her husband got in the car and started slowly after him, scanning the ditches on both sides. They passed Jim and went on up the road. He shouted at them as they went by. “You better wait at the corner and follow me. Ticktock will take us to her.” It was soon evident where the pony was heading. When the woods appeared in view, Jim was certain of at least part of what had happened. Jean had tried to find the hide-out. He felt positive about that. A thousand ideas crowded into his mind. If she let Ticktock have his head, he would have taken her to the clearing too. And Timothy was hiding there. Hearing a horse approaching, he would naturally assume it to be Jim. And then suddenly, if Jean appeared, what would have happened? He was positive that Timothy would not have harmed his sister. Perhaps he might have detained her though, afraid that she would spread an alarm. In that case, what would he do? He would have to lead his parents to the hide-out and betray Timothy. There were other explanations too. Jean might have suddenly seen Timothy and become alarmed. If she rode off rapidly through the trees, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to have been knocked off by a low branch. In that case she might be hurt badly. Everything looked black. Jean might be hurt; Timothy might be turned over to the police; he might be taken for aiding a criminal; and lastly Ticktock was once again in Mr. Meadows’ bad graces. So certain was Jim that Jean had gone to the hide-out that he tried to pull Ticktock back onto the road when the little horse started off through the woods before reaching the usual trail. The mustang, who knew exactly what he was doing, was stubborn and insisted in turning off the road. “O.K., Ticktock,” said Jim finally. “You usually know where you’re going.” Jim waited for his parents to arrive in the car. They climbed out and rather dubiously followed Jim into the woods. Every few yards they would shout Jean’s name. When they had penetrated about half a mile into the forest, they heard a weak answer. Jean had heard them. Ticktock kept going forward confidently until he paused on top of the bank above the injured girl. Jean was a sorry-looking little girl. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt while her clothes were torn, wet and muddy. But she was very happy to be at last out of her predicament. She had been lonely and frightened, waiting alone in the woods after Ticktock had gone. “I tried to climb the persimmon tree and fell down here,” she explained. “I couldn’t get up; so I sent Ticktock for help.” Jim listened to the vindication of his faith in Ticktock in silence. He was very relieved to find Jean and know that she wasn’t too badly hurt. They were still too close to his hide-out to suit him though, and he wouldn’t feel safe until they were clear of the woods. Also, this was scarcely the time to point out how intelligently Ticktock had acted. His parents were still too absorbed in Jean and the extent of her injuries. Ticktock led the way back to the road while Mr. Meadows carried Jean in his arms. When the little party reached the car, the others drove off, leaving Jim to follow home alone. Jim let the little pony take his time on the road back. He felt much relieved but still uneasy. He wondered what Jean would say if they asked her what she was doing in the woods. He felt rather guilty about her mishap. After all, it was mainly his fault. If he had shown her the way that first day, she would never have gone off on her trip of exploration. It had been rather mean of him, considering that she had found the cave, which was the most valuable feature of the secret rendezvous. So if her leg were broken, he supposed that he was really responsible. The doctor was at the house by the time Jim arrived. He was busy with Jean; so Jim rubbed Ticktock down and put him in the orchard. “You’re a hero, old boy,” he said fondly. “You got me out of a pretty ticklish mess by being so smart.” “Just sprained badly,” the doctor was saying as Jim entered the house. “She’d better stay in bed a day or two. That’s the only way I know of to keep active children from moving around.” Jean had her dinner in bed, rather enjoying being in the limelight. After he had eaten, Jim got a chance to talk to his sister alone. “I suppose you were looking for the hide-out,” he said hesitantly. Jean nodded her head. “I haven’t told anybody though.” “Good girl,” said Jim with a thankful sigh. “It was mean of me not to show you before. As soon as you can get around I’ll take you there, even if it isn’t your birthday.” “I haven’t said anything about the milk and eggs you took either,” said Jean calmly. “What are you feeding?” Jim looked at his sister with hesitation. She certainly had shown that she could keep a secret. She deserved to be in on the excitement, he decided. Perhaps that would make up in some part for his having indirectly caused her accident. “Look, Jean,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’ll tell you the whole story....” |
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