“All right, but let’s don’t do anything until we go back to the clearing and make sure the carcass is still there. I’ll gallop on ahead and give Dad the papers. I’ll ask him to keep Reddy home while we finish patrolling the preserve. Dad’ll understand. He knows what an awful pest Reddy is. Dad’s great. He won’t even ask any questions if I ride off with a spade. He’ll just take if for granted that we’re going to play polo with spades and use a porcupine instead of a ball. The way Alice in Wonderland did it, you know.”
Honey was now laughing as hard as she had been crying before. “Alice used a flamingo instead of a spade, and she was playing croquet, but I see what you mean. Oh,” she suddenly interrupted herself, “porcupines and hedgehogs and mice and rats and even ants. Do you follow me, Trix?”
Trixie gasped. “Yes! If we don't hurry back to that clearing and do let nature take its course, there won’t be anything left of that carcass. I remember reading somewhere that ants dote on antlers and armies of them have been know to carry away the whole thing—branches, stem, and all—in no time flat.”
Honey chortled ecstatically. “I know it isn’t very honorable and ethical for us not to go right back to that clearing, Trix, before your army ant friends have a chance. But, after all, we can’t do everything, and we’ve simply got to patrol the part of the preserve that spreads around on this side of Glen Road. After that it’ll be time for lunch, and you’ve got to get glamorous for Ben after that, because he’s arriving around two-thirty. So I just don t see how we can spend any more time patrolling the other side of the road, do you?”
“No,” Trixie said emphatically. “Especially since that Thing we were talking about may well be, as Mart would say, nonexistent. If we should consult him, he probably would say that it was a figment of my imagination. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to think that Mart is right! I dreamed up that whole ghastly scene.” She tucked the roll of newspapers under her left arm and reached across the saddle to shake hands with Honey. “It was simply a daymare, as Bobby would say. Don’t you agree that’s what it must have been, Miss Wheeler?”
Honey bowed. “I do, Miss Belden. Meet you on the trail behind the stable in ten minutes.” She trotted off along the shoulder of Glen Road with Patch leading the way. Reddy raced off toward Trixie’s home, and, after a bit of encouragement, Trixie persuaded Susie to follow him. The glossy black mare obviously felt that she and the chestnut gelding, Starlight, were a team that should not be separated so abruptly. But, to Trixie’s satisfaction, Reddy did not feel at all the same way about Patch.
“They’re not a team yet,” she muttered softly. “And as Regan would say, single-handedly, they’ll probably never run down another deer, let alone kill one.”
For deep down in her heart, Trixie did not really think that a poacher had killed that deer. She was sure that the dogs had done it. And if they ever even tried to do such a terrible thing again, she knew that the verdict would be a death sentence!
Guilty Consciences • 11
TRIXIE’S FATHER came out on the terrace in answer to her call and deftly caught the bundle of papers she tossed to him.
“You’re a regular pony express,” he said and produced a lump of sugar from the pocket of his jacket for Susie. “I’m sorry I asked you to get the papers, Trixie. I forgot about your job.”
“It’s all right, Dad.” She smiled down at him. “We have to go right by Mr. Lytell’s store when we patrol. It was no trouble at all.”
“But stopping off and coming back here must have delayed you,” he said, “and I know you’re in a hurry to get through early today. Ben arrives this afternoon sometime, doesn’t he, Trixie?”
Trixie felt her cheeks burn. She wanted to say, “Yes, and I couldn’t care less, that crum-bum!” But
Honey was now laughing as hard as she had been crying before. “Alice used a flamingo instead of a spade, and she was playing croquet, but I see what you mean. Oh,” she suddenly interrupted herself, “porcupines and hedgehogs and mice and rats and even ants. Do you follow me, Trix?”
Trixie gasped. “Yes! If we don't hurry back to that clearing and do let nature take its course, there won’t be anything left of that carcass. I remember reading somewhere that ants dote on antlers and armies of them have been know to carry away the whole thing—branches, stem, and all—in no time flat.”
Honey chortled ecstatically. “I know it isn’t very honorable and ethical for us not to go right back to that clearing, Trix, before your army ant friends have a chance. But, after all, we can’t do everything, and we’ve simply got to patrol the part of the preserve that spreads around on this side of Glen Road. After that it’ll be time for lunch, and you’ve got to get glamorous for Ben after that, because he’s arriving around two-thirty. So I just don t see how we can spend any more time patrolling the other side of the road, do you?”
“No,” Trixie said emphatically. “Especially since that Thing we were talking about may well be, as Mart would say, nonexistent. If we should consult him, he probably would say that it was a figment of my imagination. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to think that Mart is right! I dreamed up that whole ghastly scene.” She tucked the roll of newspapers under her left arm and reached across the saddle to shake hands with Honey. “It was simply a daymare, as Bobby would say. Don’t you agree that’s what it must have been, Miss Wheeler?”
Honey bowed. “I do, Miss Belden. Meet you on the trail behind the stable in ten minutes.” She trotted off along the shoulder of Glen Road with Patch leading the way. Reddy raced off toward Trixie’s home, and, after a bit of encouragement, Trixie persuaded Susie to follow him. The glossy black mare obviously felt that she and the chestnut gelding, Starlight, were a team that should not be separated so abruptly. But, to Trixie’s satisfaction, Reddy did not feel at all the same way about Patch.
“They’re not a team yet,” she muttered softly. “And as Regan would say, single-handedly, they’ll probably never run down another deer, let alone kill one.”
For deep down in her heart, Trixie did not really think that a poacher had killed that deer. She was sure that the dogs had done it. And if they ever even tried to do such a terrible thing again, she knew that the verdict would be a death sentence!
Guilty Consciences • 11
TRIXIE’S FATHER came out on the terrace in answer to her call and deftly caught the bundle of papers she tossed to him.
“You’re a regular pony express,” he said and produced a lump of sugar from the pocket of his jacket for Susie. “I’m sorry I asked you to get the papers, Trixie. I forgot about your job.”
“It’s all right, Dad.” She smiled down at him. “We have to go right by Mr. Lytell’s store when we patrol. It was no trouble at all.”
“But stopping off and coming back here must have delayed you,” he said, “and I know you’re in a hurry to get through early today. Ben arrives this afternoon sometime, doesn’t he, Trixie?”
Trixie felt her cheeks burn. She wanted to say, “Yes, and I couldn’t care less, that crum-bum!” But
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