That night Henry did not sleep very well. He kept thinking of the men who had tried to buy Aunt Jane’s ranch. He decided to talk with Jessie alone.
But it was not easy for the older children to get away from Benny. He wanted to do first one thing and then another. Finally he wanted to go to the barn to see the horse.
“It’s our horse, after all,” said Benny. “We ought to get acquainted with our own horse.”
Watch began to bark when Violet let him out the back door.
“Bark all you want to, Watchie!” shouted Benny. “Nobody can hear you, and I’ll yell, too!”
After a few good yells, Benny started toward the barn. All the children followed. Watch ran around the old barn looking for mice. The black horse stood looking at them all.
“What’s our horse’s name?” asked Benny.
“Maggie says he hasn’t any name,” said Jessie. “She just says, ‘Go on, old boy.’”
“Old Boy isn’t a good name,” said Benny. “Let’s call him Snowball.”
Everyone laughed. The thin old horse was black all over! But from then on, Old Boy was called Snowball.
“Come on, Watch,” said Benny at last. “Let’s go upstairs where the hay is. Maybe you’ll find a rat!”
Violet followed Benny and this gave Henry his chance. He winked at Jessie who followed him outside at once.
“Look, Jessie,” whispered Henry. “I don’t like the idea of strange men bothering Aunt Jane.”
“Neither do I,” said Jessie softly. “The men told her the ranch was no good. Just a few chickens and an old horse.”
“That’s it,” cried Henry. “If the ranch is no good, why do they want to buy it? I think I ought to do something about this.”
“Tell Sam,” advised Jessie.
“I’ll do better than that,” said Henry at last. “I’ll tell Sam to tell Mr. Pond. Mr. Pond seems to know everything.”
After they had told their troubles to Sam, the older children felt better. They were pleased when they saw Sam start for Mr. Pond’s house.
In a very short time, Mr. Pond’s car came up the driveway. Sam was with him. They were both very serious.
“Sam and I want to see that hut in the woods,” Mr. Pond said. “Will you take us there?”
“Sure,” said Henry. “We know exactly where it is.”
“Let’s all go,” cried Benny.
Jessie went to the front hall and told Maggie where they were going.
“Don’t tell Aunt Jane that we are going back to that hut. It would worry her. Just say we went for a walk. We will be back in time for dinner.”
Jessie saw the others half way to the chicken house. She hurried to catch up with them. They walked faster this time, because they knew just where they were going. They soon came to the hut.
“Be quiet, now,” whispered Sam, “We want to see if anyone is here.”
The children sat down in the woods.
“Is there anything different about the hut?” whispered Mr. Pond.
“Yes,” whispered Henry. “There is some wood in the fireplace. It wasn’t there the other time.”
They sat very still for a long time. They heard nothing. They saw nothing new.
“Well,” said Mr. Pond at last, “we might sit here all day for nothing. Let’s take a close look at the hut.”
They walked over to the hut. Sam put his hand on the stones of the fireplace.
“Warm!” he said.
They all felt the stones. They were very warm. The fire had not been out very long.
“Well, someone surely stays here,” said Mr. Pond. He seemed worried.
“Do you suppose it’s your Mystery Man?” asked Benny.
“Goodness no!” Jessie answered. “He’s much too nice to live in a hut on somebody else’s land.”
They walked out of the woods and into the field full of rocks.
“Aren’t these rocks funny?” said Violet. “I never saw such yellow rocks. And look at the black lines across them!”
“Like a tiger,” said Benny.
Henry looked again at the rocks. He seemed to be deep in thought.
“Now what is it they make me think of?” he said to himself. “Umm, yellow with black lines. … I have seen something about that somewhere. …”
“Do you know the name of these yellow stones, Mr. Pond?” asked Violet. She picked one up and gave it to him.
“No, I don’t know much about stones,” he said. “This yellowish rock makes a fine powder. I know that Indians long ago used it for their sand paintings.”
“Sand paintings?” asked Benny. “I never heard of sand paintings.”
“They are very interesting,” said Mr. Pond. “They are beautiful, too. The Indians took sand of all colors: blue, green, red, yellow, black, brown. They looked for a nice, flat place, and painted it with colored sand. They put the different colors in the right places. They would make a round sun like this.”
Mr. Pond quickly made a big yellow sun on the ground, to show Benny how it was done.
“Do you think there are any sand paintings in our field now?” Benny asked hopefully.
“No,” answered Mr. Pond, smiling. “There haven’t been any Indians here for many years.”
“I’d rather have Indians here than whoever is living in that hut,” said Jessie.
“I think you’re right,” said Mr. Pond. “But don’t worry about that. we’ll go to Stony Creek tomorrow and tell the sheriff, Mr. Bates, about this.”
He glanced at Henry, and the boy understood that Mr. Pond would tell the sheriff about some other things, too. |