exploring on his own. Trixie saw him suddenly stiffen. Then he growled deep in his throat and stared across the clearing at a distant stand of trees.
Trixie clutched at Mart’s arm. “Listen!” she whispered urgently. “I think someone’s there!”
“Who—” Honey began, but a warning pressure from her brother’s fingers on her arm silenced her.
The Bob-Whites stood as if frozen, listening, and kept their eyes on Reddy, whose hair around his neck was bristling.
Reddy growled again. His gaze fixed on that same distant spot, he began to move softly, slowly, toward it.
There was a moment’s silence. Then someone burst out of hiding and began running desperately through the trees and past the stable.
“Quick!” Trixie shouted. “After him, everyone! Reddy! Fetch!”
Surprisingly, Reddy seemed to understand exactly what was expected of him this time. In another minute, he, too, was racing across the clearing with the Bob-Whites close behind him.
Trixie had never seen anyone run so fast as the slim figure that seemed to remain so infuriatingly far ahead of them.
Trixie’s legs were pumping at full speed, but still she could see that she wasn’t going nearly fast enough to catch their mysterious visitor.
He had, in fact, almost reached Glen Road and the bicycle that was parked there, when Reddy, mindful of his duty at last, circled around in front of him and stood, legs spread, growling.
The running figure skidded to a halt and stared in terror at the dog’s bared teeth.
“Call him off!” he yelled to the Bob-Whites as they raced to capture their prisoner. “Don’t let him bite me! I didn’t do anything, honest!”
Trixie stared at the frightened figure who faced them. “I should have known,” she said slowly. “So you were the Midnight Marauder all along. Look, everyone! It’s Lester Mundy!”
Reddy’s Prisoner ● 12
LESTER DIDN’T TAKE his eyes off Reddy for a second. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he shouted, taking a step toward Trixie.
He stopped abruptly when Reddy barked in warning. Hastily, Lester stepped back to his original position and stood as if frozen to the spot.
“You’d better tell us everything,” Mart snapped, thrusting his face close to that of their prisoner. “We know you’re the Midnight Marauder. You were the one who vandalized the school—and Wimpy’s—and the Robin. ”
“First, call off your dog,” Lester said.
“Talk first,” Brian replied sternly, “and then we’ll see if we can call him off.”
Trixie hid a smile. Reddy looked as if he were about to tear Lester limb from limb.
The Bob-Whites knew well that the mischievous Irish setter wouldn’t hurt anyone—but Lester didn’t.
He seemed to be thinking hard. “It was like this,” he began. “I happened to be riding my bike along Glen Road—”
“At this time of night—I mean, morning?” Mart asked, sounding incredulous.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Lester replied, not looking at anyone. “The storm was making too much noise. Then, when the rain stopped, I decided I needed some exercise.”
“Go on,” Mart snapped.
“I rode my bike this far,” Lester continued hastily, “when I noticed someone hanging around the trailer. I left my bike here and went to investigate, but the Midnight Marauder was too fast for me. By the time I reached the clearing, he’d already gone. Then I heard you coming. I thought you might be part of the Marauder’s gang, so I hid. You know the rest.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Trixie said slowly. “For one thing, you couldn’t have seen the trailer from Glen Road. Try again, Lester, and this time, tell the truth.”
Lester sighed and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “You’re never going to believe me,” he said at last. “I’ve known that all along.”
“Try us,” kindhearted Honey said gently.
“It really all began last night,” Lester answered. “It was late. I was out jogging. Oh, I know what
Trixie clutched at Mart’s arm. “Listen!” she whispered urgently. “I think someone’s there!”
“Who—” Honey began, but a warning pressure from her brother’s fingers on her arm silenced her.
The Bob-Whites stood as if frozen, listening, and kept their eyes on Reddy, whose hair around his neck was bristling.
Reddy growled again. His gaze fixed on that same distant spot, he began to move softly, slowly, toward it.
There was a moment’s silence. Then someone burst out of hiding and began running desperately through the trees and past the stable.
“Quick!” Trixie shouted. “After him, everyone! Reddy! Fetch!”
Surprisingly, Reddy seemed to understand exactly what was expected of him this time. In another minute, he, too, was racing across the clearing with the Bob-Whites close behind him.
Trixie had never seen anyone run so fast as the slim figure that seemed to remain so infuriatingly far ahead of them.
Trixie’s legs were pumping at full speed, but still she could see that she wasn’t going nearly fast enough to catch their mysterious visitor.
He had, in fact, almost reached Glen Road and the bicycle that was parked there, when Reddy, mindful of his duty at last, circled around in front of him and stood, legs spread, growling.
The running figure skidded to a halt and stared in terror at the dog’s bared teeth.
“Call him off!” he yelled to the Bob-Whites as they raced to capture their prisoner. “Don’t let him bite me! I didn’t do anything, honest!”
Trixie stared at the frightened figure who faced them. “I should have known,” she said slowly. “So you were the Midnight Marauder all along. Look, everyone! It’s Lester Mundy!”
Reddy’s Prisoner ● 12
LESTER DIDN’T TAKE his eyes off Reddy for a second. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he shouted, taking a step toward Trixie.
He stopped abruptly when Reddy barked in warning. Hastily, Lester stepped back to his original position and stood as if frozen to the spot.
“You’d better tell us everything,” Mart snapped, thrusting his face close to that of their prisoner. “We know you’re the Midnight Marauder. You were the one who vandalized the school—and Wimpy’s—and the Robin. ”
“First, call off your dog,” Lester said.
“Talk first,” Brian replied sternly, “and then we’ll see if we can call him off.”
Trixie hid a smile. Reddy looked as if he were about to tear Lester limb from limb.
The Bob-Whites knew well that the mischievous Irish setter wouldn’t hurt anyone—but Lester didn’t.
He seemed to be thinking hard. “It was like this,” he began. “I happened to be riding my bike along Glen Road—”
“At this time of night—I mean, morning?” Mart asked, sounding incredulous.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Lester replied, not looking at anyone. “The storm was making too much noise. Then, when the rain stopped, I decided I needed some exercise.”
“Go on,” Mart snapped.
“I rode my bike this far,” Lester continued hastily, “when I noticed someone hanging around the trailer. I left my bike here and went to investigate, but the Midnight Marauder was too fast for me. By the time I reached the clearing, he’d already gone. Then I heard you coming. I thought you might be part of the Marauder’s gang, so I hid. You know the rest.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Trixie said slowly. “For one thing, you couldn’t have seen the trailer from Glen Road. Try again, Lester, and this time, tell the truth.”
Lester sighed and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “You’re never going to believe me,” he said at last. “I’ve known that all along.”
“Try us,” kindhearted Honey said gently.
“It really all began last night,” Lester answered. “It was late. I was out jogging. Oh, I know what
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