The Red Trailer Mystery by Julie Campbell

discovered him? We felt as though we’d known him all our lives in just a few minutes.”
    The trail ended abruptly at the macadam road, several yards north of the winding path they had taken earlier to Pine Hollow.
    “Now what?” Trixie asked. “Did Jim go north or south on the highway, or did he pick up the trail on the other side of the road?”
    Honey stared down at the faint marks of bicycle tire treads in the dirt. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she said. “But let’s ride north for a bit and see if there is another path leading into the woods.”
    “Maybe he cut through this underbrush,” Trixie wondered out loud. “It looks as though somebody might have dragged a bike through here recently.”
    “Well, we can’t go that way,” Honey objected. “Not on horseback.”
    A twig crackled and both girls turned quickly, just in time to catch a glimpse of something that looked like blue jeans disappearing in the thicket.
    “Jim,” both girls gasped at once, then raised their voices. “Jim! Jim!” they shouted.
    And then the dogs came bounding down the trail. A few feet from the road, Reddy suddenly swerved, and, barking joyfully as though greeting an old friend, tore off through the underbrush, with Bud.
    “It
was
Jim,” Trixie said. “Reddy recognized him.”
    “I don’t think so,” Honey objected. “He would have answered us. And Reddy thinks everybody’s his best friend. So does Bud.”
    Trixie looked discouraged. “We couldn’t possibly be lucky enough to find Jim the very first thing,” she said. “I guess whoever was wearing those dungarees is a Pine Hollow boy exploring the woods.”
    “That’s what I think,” Honey said. “Let’s try to find another path with more bicycle marks on it.”
    They rode up the highway for half a mile or so but saw no more bridle paths. They were just about to turn back when a large van came lumbering out of the woods just ahead of them.
    “There must be a road there,” Trixie cried excitedly. “Let’s see if there are any signs of tire treads.”
    As they passed the van, Trixie glanced disinterestedly at the driver, but a second later, she sucked in her breath and whispered to Honey, “The man driving that van had bushy hair, like Joeanne’s father, and the other one looked like Jeff, the waiter!”
    Honey turned in the saddle to stare after the van. “Are you sure?” she demanded. “I mean, are you sure it was Joeanne’s father?”
    Trixie shook her head. “No. His face was turned away from me, but he had that same shaggy hair. I couldhardly see the other man he was talking to but he did look like Jeff.”
    “Well, a lot of people have bushy hair,” Honey said, “and a lot of people look like Jeff. You know, neither tall nor short, not fat or thin, and sort of colorless eyes and hair.” She giggled. “All waiters look alike to me anyway.”
    “Say,” Trixie interrupted in amazement. “This isn’t a road that van came out of. It’s just a cleared space between the trees and the bushes.”
    “I guess the driver thought it was a road,” Honey said, “and turned in by mistake.”
    “But then,” Trixie argued, “he would have backed out. There’s no room to turn here. And he was headed toward the highway.”
    “That’s true,” Honey said thoughtfully.
    “And look!” Trixie shouted in excitement as she slipped out of the saddle. “Just look at this pile of branches. They must have been used to camouflage the van so nobody passing by would notice it.”
    Honey jumped down beside her. On one side of the clearing, bushy evergreens were heaped high. On closer inspection they discovered folded neatly nearby an old tennis court net.
    Honey was completely mystified, but Trixie yelled, “I get it. Don’t you see? They back the van in here and cover it with branches. Then they stretch this netbetween the trees facing the road on either side of the clearing. After that all they have to do to hide the van completely is wind more