CHAPTER
4
A STRANGER OF THE ROAD
Even for late September it was a warm day. The horses plodded slowly up a steep, winding trail heavily canopied with yellowing maple leaves. Louise and Penny swished angrily at the buzzing mosquitoes and tried to urge their tired mounts to a faster pace.
“I warned you this trip would be slaughter,” Louise complained, ducking to avoid a tree limb. “Furthermore, I suspect we’re lost.”
“How could we be, when we haven’t turned off the trail?” Penny called over her shoulder.
She rode ahead on a sorry looking nag appropriately named Bones. The animal was more easily managed than the skittish mare Louise had chosen at Williams’ Livery Stable, but had an annoying appetite for foliage.
“Mr. Williams’ directions were clear enough,” Penny resumed. “He said to follow this trail until we reach a little town named Delta.”
“Providing we survive that long,” Louise interposed crossly. “How far from Delta to Sleepy Hollow?”
“Not more than two or three miles. And once we get down out of these hills into the valley, the going should be much easier.”
Penny spoke with forced cheerfulness. In truth, she too had wearied of the trip which in the last hour had become sheer torture instead of adventure. Her freckled face was blotched with mosquito bites. Every hairpin had been jolted from her head and muscles fairly screamed a protest. Louise, on an unruly horse, had taken even more punishment.
Penny gave Bones a dig in the ribs. The horse quickened his step, weaving a corkscrew path around the trunks of the giant trees.
Gradually the tangle of brush and trees began to thin out. They came at last to a clearing at the brow of the hill. Penny drew rein beside a huge, moss-covered rock. Below stretched a beautiful rich, green valley through which wound a flood-swollen river. From the chimney-tops of a cluster of houses smoke curled lazily, blending into the blue rim of the distant hills.
“Did you ever see a prettier little valley?” Penny asked, her interest reviving. “That must be Delta down there.”
Louise was too weary to look or answer. She slid out of the saddle and tossed the reins over a tree limb. Near by a spring gushed from between the rocks. She walked stiffly to it and drank deeply of the cool water.
“Lou, the valley looks exactly as I hoped it would!” Penny went on eagerly. “It has a dreamy, drowsy atmosphere, just as Irving described the Sleepy Hollow of legend!”
Louise bent to drink of the spring again. She sponged her hot face with a dampened handkerchief. Pulling off shoes and stockings, she let the cool water trickle over her bare feet.
“According to legend, the valley and its inhabitants were bewitched,” Penny rambled on. “Why, the Indians considered these hills as the abode of Spirits. Sometimes the Spirits took mischievous delight in wreaking trouble upon the villagers—”
Penny’s voice trailed off. From far down the hillside came the faint thud of hoofbeats. The girl’s attention became fixed upon a moving horseman on the road below.
“Now what?” inquired Louise impatiently. “Don’t try to tell me you’ve seen the Headless Horseman already?”
“I’ve certainly seen a horseman! My, can that fellow ride!”
Louise picked up her shoes and hobbled over the stones to the trail’s end. Through a gap in the trees she gazed down upon a winding turnpike fringed on either side with an old-fashioned rail fence. A horseman, mounted on a roan mare, rode bareback at a full run. As the girls watched in admiration, the mare took the low fence in one magnificent leap and crashed out of sight through the trees.
“You’re right, Penny,” Louise acknowledged. “What wouldn’t I give to be able to ride like that! One of the villagers, I suppose.”
The hoofbeats rapidly died away. Louise turned wearily around, intending to remount her horse. She stared in astonishment. Where the mare had grazed, there now was only trampled grass.
“Where’s my horse?” she demanded. “Where’s White Foot?”
“Spirited away by the witches maybe.”
“This is no time for any of your feeble jokes, Penny Parker! That stupid horse must have wandered off while I was admiring your old valley and that rider!”
Penny remained undisturbed. “Oh, we’ll find the mare all right,” she said confidently. “She can’t be far away.”
The girls thought that they heard a crashing of underbrush to the left of the trail. Investigation did not disclose that the horse had gone that way. They could hear no hoofbeats, nor was any of the grass trampled.
“I’ll bet White Foot’s on her way back to Williams’ Stable by this time,” Louise declared crossly. “Such luck!” She sat down on a stone and put on her shoes and stockings.
“We didn’t hear the horse run off, Lou. She can’t be far.”
“Then you find her. I’ve had all I can stand. I’m tired and I’m hungry and I wish I’d never come on this wild, silly chase.” Tears began to trickle down Louise’s heat-mottled face.
Penny slid down from Bones and patted her chum’s arm awkwardly. Louise pulled away from her.
“Now don’t give me any pep talk or I’ll simply bawl,” she warned. “What am I going to do without a horse?”
“Why, that’s easy, Lou. We’ll ride double.”
“Back to Williams’ Stable?”
“Well, not tonight. It’s getting late and after coming this far it would be foolish to turn around and start right back.”
“It would be the most sensible act of our lives,” Louise retorted. “But then I might know you’d insist on pushing on. You and Christopher Columbus have a lot in common!”
“We came to find out about that Headless Horseman, didn’t we?”
“You did, I guess,” Louise sighed, getting up from the rock. “I just came along because I’m weak minded! Well, what’s the plan?”
“Let’s ride down to Delta and try to get a room for the night.”
Louise’s silence gave consent. She climbed up behind Penny on Bones and they jogged down the trail toward the turnpike.
“It’s queer how White Foot sneaked away without making a sound,” Penny presently commented. “According to the old legend strange things did happen in the Sleepy Hollow valley. The Spirit was supposed to wreak all sorts of vexations upon the inhabitants. Sometimes he would take the shape of a bear or a deer and lead bewildered hunters a merry chase through the woods.”
“You’re the one who is bewitched,” Louise broke in. “And if you ask me, you’ve been that way ever since you were born. There’s a little spark—something deep within you that keeps saying: ‘Go on, Penny. Sic ’em, Penny! Maybe you’ll find a mystery!’”
“Perhaps I shall too!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’ve turned up some dandy news stories for your father’s paper. But this is different.”
“How so?”
“In the first place we both know there’s no such thing as a Headless Horseman. It must all be a joke.”
“Would you call that advertisement in the Hobostein paper a joke?”
“It could have been. We don’t know many of the facts.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Penny guided Bones onto the wide turnpike. Before she could add more, Louise’s grasp about her waist suddenly tightened.
“Listen, Penny! Someone’s coming!”
Penny drew rein. Distinctly, both girls could hear the clop-clop of approaching hoofbeats. Their hope that it might be White Foot was quickly dashed. A moment later the same horseman they had observed a few minutes earlier, swung around the bend.
The young man rapidly overtook the girls. From the way he grinned, they suspected that they presented a ridiculous sight as they rocked along on Bones’ swaying back. He sat his own horse, a handsome roan, with easy grace.
Louise tugged at her skirt which kept creeping above her knees. “He’s laughing at us!” she muttered under her breath.
The rider cantered up, then deliberately slowed his horse to a walk. Louise stole a quick sideways glance. The young man was dark-haired, about twenty-six and very good looking. His flashing brown eyes were friendly and so was his voice as he spoke a cheery, “’Lo, girls.”
“Hello,” Penny responded briefly. Louise immediately nudged her in the ribs, a silent warning that she considered the stranger “fresh.”
Nevertheless, Penny twisted sideways in the saddle the better to look at their road companion. He wore whipcord riding breeches and highly polished boots. From the well-tailored cut of his clothes she decided that he too was a comparative stranger to the hill country.
“Not looking for a horse by any chance, are you?” the young man inquired.
Louise’s snub nose came down out of the sky. “Oh, we are!” she cried. “Where did you see her?”
“A mare with a white foot? Her left hind one?”
“Yes, that’s White Foot!” Louise exclaimed joyfully. “The stupid creature wandered off.”
“Saw her making for the valley about five minutes ago. Like enough she turned in at Silas Malcom’s place.”
The name took Penny by surprise. Although she had hoped to find the old man who had visited the Star office, she had not thought it possible without a long search.
“Does Mr. Malcom live near here?” she inquired.
“Yes, his farm’s on down the pike. Want me to ride along and show you the way?”
Under the circumstance, Penny and Louise had no choice but to accept the offer. However, they both thought that the young man merely was making an excuse to accompany them. He seemed to read their minds for he said:
“I didn’t actually see your missing horse turn in at the Malcom place. Know why I think she’ll be there?”
“Perhaps you have supernatural powers,” Penny said lightly. “From what we hear, this valley is quite a place for witches and Headless Horsemen.”
The young man gave her an amused glance.
“The explanation is quite simple,” he laughed. “Silas used to own that horse. All horses have a strong homing instinct, you know.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Louise contributed a bit grimly.
“Guess I should introduce myself,” the young man resumed. “Name’s Joe Quigley. I’m the station agent at Delta.”
“We’re glad to meet you,” Penny responded. Though Louise scowled at her, she gave their own names. She added that they had come to the valley seeking information about the mysterious Headless Horseman.
“Friends of Mr. Burmaster?” Quigley inquired casually.
“Oh, no,” Penny assured him. “We just came for the fun of it. Is it true that some prankster has been causing trouble in the valley?”
“Prankster?”
“Yes, someone fixed up to resemble the Headless Horseman of fable.”
Quigley grinned broadly. “Well, now, you couldn’t prove it by me. Some folks say that on certain foggy nights the old Galloping Hessian does ride down out of the hills. But then there are folks who claim their butter won’t churn because it’s been bewitched. I never put much stock in such talk myself.”
“Then you’ve never actually seen such a rider?”
Joe Quigley remained silent. After a thoughtful interval he admitted: “Well, one night over a month ago, I did see something strange.”
“What was it?” Louise asked quickly.
Quigley pointed far up the hillside. “See that big boulder? Witching Rock it’s called.”
Penny nodded. “We were there only a few minutes ago.”
“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.