Chapter 15:

A Good Day for Fishing

"Trixie, let me be the first to say, this picnic was a terrific idea," Brain announced at noon, patting his full stomach. He rolled back on the soft grass and took a deep breath. "I needed the fresh air."

"Mmm, and I needed the sunshine," Honey purred from nearby. "I don't believe the Bob-Whites have ever worked as hard as they did this morning."

"Or gotten so much accomplished in such a short time," Jim agreed. He polished off the last of the oatmeal cookies and began repacking the wicker picnic basket which had belonged to his mother. "I'd like to thank you all again for your help this week. The change in the house is amazing. It honestly sparkles."

Dan laughed as he stretched to relieve his sore back. "I wouldn't go that far," he said. "But it ought to look better. I, for one, nearly scrubbed my fingers off degreasing that that stove."

Trixie glanced down at her own reddened hands. She'd put so much elbow grease into scouring out the bathroom sink she was sure she'd rubbed through the porcelain. Still, Trixie felt a tad guilty about suggesting the break. "We aren't the only ones who've been working hard," she pointed out. "I wish Miss Trask would have come with us. She deserves some time off too." Getting to her feet, Trixie wandered over to the edge of the bluff.

Joining her, Jim said, "I wouldn't worry about Miss Trask, Trixie. As we were leaving, she mentioned something about taking a bubble bath with a good book before Regan and Tom get in around 3:00."

Trixie grinned and relaxed. "She's probably enjoying the peace and quiet," she added. "It's a shame she missed this view, though. Why you can see the entire valley from this spot."

Jim's green eyes twinkled. He took Trixie's hand and led her into the thicket without uttering a word.

"Where are we going?" she demanded as he pulled her deeper and deeper into the brush. "I'm getting covered in burrs."

"It'll be worth it," Jim replied, grinning. "Now, hush."

It wasn't like Jim to be so impulsive, but Trixie obeyed. Spying a clearing a few meters ahead, she stopped resisting and stepped up her pace. As the two emerged from the woods, Trixie drew in her breath and stood frozen.

"Now, you can see everything," Jim beamed with pleasure.

Struck speechless, Trixie squeezed his hand tightly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the young man went on softly. "I used to come up here to think. In the summer, when the temperature rises, the sun filters through the haze making the entire valley sparkle as if it were sprinkled with diamond dust."

Trixie lowered herself onto a large rock, and Jim sat down beside her. "I never knew the world was so big, and I was so small," she mused, lost in wonder. "It does make a person think."

"I knew you'd understand," Jim whispered. "You're special, Trixie."

Trixie felt her heart beating faster. She looked up at his face, then quickly back down at the I.D. bracelet on her wrist. "I think you're special, too," she said meekly.

Rising to his feet, Jim pointed far off into the distance. "There's where we'll be going tomorrow," he said, focusing back on more earthly concerns. "See the Ferris Wheel?"

Trixie stood up on the granite boulder to get a better view. "I see it," she replied. "And that's Cloverton just to the south, correct?"

"Sure is," Jim answered. "And if you trace the creek to the North, you'll see Clement."

Trixie's eyes never reached Clement. "Jim, what's that on the left bank below us? It looks like it might have been some type of building at one time."

"That pile of rubbish?" he inquired. "Gosh Trixie, I don't… No! I do know. That used to be a fishing shack. Jonesy locked me inside once when I tried to run away."

"What on earth happened to it?" the curious girl wondered, her eyes growing wide.

"It doesn't look like it was destroyed by fire," Jim replied. "And it couldn't have collapsed. There's too much debris everywhere."

Trixie was getting excited. Her inner detective was kicking in. Jumping off the rock, she cried, "Maybe that's what exploded Monday night. We've been too busy until now to check it out. How do we get down there from here?"

Jim let out a moan but recognized his friend wouldn't be satisfied until she did some snooping about. "Trixie Belden, you're incorrigible!" he said, waving her forward. "This way."


The descent to the creek was steep and rocky. More than once, Trixie lost her footing but had been lucky enough to catch it before she slid too far. The exposed tree roots along the path not only proved to be her foe but her savior as well. It didn't help that Jim seemed to be preoccupied. Trixie wondered if he was remembering past events, but she didn't prod to know more.

As the two teens stopped for a moment to catch their breath, the winded young man finally admitted what was on his mind. "We'll have to make this as quick as we can," he said. "Disappearing alone as we did probably wasn't the best idea. I hate to think what the others might be saying."

"I know what you mean," Trixie panted in return. "Ever since that episode with Bobby, I've had a hard time convincing Honey, you and I are just friends."

"Dan and Brian have become real pests," Jim divulged. "They're needling me every chance they get. At least there's no misunderstanding between us?"

Trixie nodded and pushed him forward. "Better get moving," she agreed.

A short time later, the deer trail leading down to the base of the ravine, leveled out, dumping them onto a narrow dirt road.

"We're getting close now," Jim announced, startling a flock of field crows, which had been roosting in the arch of the trees above their heads. As the distressed birds let out a ruckus of alarm, Jim said something else, but Trixie couldn't make it out.

"What did you say?" she shouted, wishing the earsplitting noise would stop.

Jim, through his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the rusty tan Maverick parked just behind them. "I said," he shouted back, "I wonder if he's having any luck fishing today?"

As they exited the oaken tunnel, the clamor ceased.

"We'll take the other access road back to avoid that," Jim said, his ears still ringing. "You know, the one we used when we were going for water."

"Good," Trixie laughed, "I was beginning to feel like I was in an Alfred Hitchcock movie."

A few steps ahead, however, Trixie and Jim again heard the crows raise their cries.

"Someone must be coming," Jim remarked, pulling his friend from the middle of the road.

Trixie marched on, taking the lead, but didn't think it was necessary. As the crows stopped their angry protest, she advised Jim she thought she'd heard a car start. "Maybe your fisherman's leaving?" she said.

As time passed, with no one driving by, Jim stood corrected. "The rock bass must not be biting today," he casually observed.

Trixie again took step beside her friend, and upon reaching the creek, the two Bob-Whites found it to be swollen and running rapidly due to the recent rains.

"Gosh, this looks more like a raging river," observed Trixie as they moved single-file along the slippery bank downstream.

"Technically, it is," Jim explained. "In the mid-1800s it was given the name Millers Creek when a sorghum mill was built on the upper mouth. Many lesser streams are feeding it, but this section is more correctly classified as a small river. Never the less, the old name just seemed to stick."

"No pun intended?" Trixie laughed. But Jim recognized it was more of a nervous laugh. The power of the turbulent water was indeed sobering. Ever since Trixie, Jim, and Honey had nearly lost their lives in a flood in Iowa, the young people had developed a certain fear and respect for the unpredictable wrath of Mother Nature. So when they finally came upon the site of the old shack, it wasn't surprising they both felt a sense of relief.

Circling the rubble of splintered boards and broken glass, which had once made up the small structure, Jim let out a whistle. "Boy, this baby really blew! I wonder if someone from the department of Engineers was storing blasting caps in here, and lightning struck it. I was reading in the paper that the county has a new damn project in the works, Trix."

Trixie, who'd been picking through the mud-splattered wreckage, motioned for Jim to join her.

"Find something interesting?" he asked, drawing near.

"Boy, did I!" Trixie replied with excitement. "Today is a good day for fishing. Take a look at this!"

She held up a tattered green fatigue jacket with a display of victory. "There was a jacket just like this one in the red pickup," she went on. "The same red pickup that was carrying around a box of explosives. And had fuzzy dice hanging from the review mirror."

"I hear you," Jim replied, soberly. "I'm not that dense, Trixie. Check the pockets."

Trixie did as instructed and pulled out a small scrap of paper.

"Gleeps, this looks like part of a letter," she declared, after scrutinizing it. "There's not much writing on it, but I think it proves somebody's after Mr. Handleman's stamp." She handed this latest clue over to Jim for his take.

Jim looked at the fragment, then looked at it again, as new thoughts formulated in his mind. He wished the rest of the note wasn't missing and nearly tore the jacket apart, searching for the rest of it.

All they were seeing was a small piece from a much bigger puzzle:

stamp? And

nd get rich?

ang it, the

hocked it af

have always

no different.

out, you wo

xpected. A

me hard tim

What they did have didn't give Jim a good feeling. "There's no proof here," he told Trixie, "But I sure don't like the looks of it. I think we'd better make another visit to see Sheriff Baker."

"Shall I bring the jacket?" Trixie asked, taking a final glance around.

"No, just leave it here," Jim advised. "I'm certain the Sheriff will want to investigate himself."

Trixie put the faded army jacket back where she found it, but when Jim wasn't looking, she slipped the piece of paper from its pocket, into one of her own.

Not wanting to disturb the possible crime scene any further, the two young people started back along the bank of the creek, retracing their footsteps. The mud was thick, and it pulled at Trixie's sneakers as she walked. One false step and she knew she' be dumped into the icy-cold waters which churned below. Concentrating on keeping her footing, Trixie didn't notice until too late, that Jim had lost his balance.

As he yelped with alarm, Trixie burst into action.

"Here, grab my hand," she cried as he plunged toward the racing water.

But her help came too late. The current had already swept Jim beyond her reach, and then, to Trixie's horror, sucked him under. Instinctively, she stripped off her jacket, preparing to jump in after him, when Jim's head bobbed to the surface.

"Don't!" he called, coughing up a mouthful of water. "It's too cold. I think I can get a foothold. It's not so deep here. I'll try to make it to the edge."

The swirling water now barely reached Jim's waste, but twice again, Trixie watched helplessly as it rolled him over into its eddy. Her senses told she needed to do something before her friend lost his strength. Cautiously easing her way down the slippery embankment, Trixie found a stable brace in a wedge of rocks. Then wrapping one arm around a loop of dangling vines, she stretched the other arm out to Jim. This time, he was close enough to catch a grip.

"Thanks," the tired young man panted, as Trixie helped pull him from the water and up the steep incline. "A few minutes more and I might not have made it."

That Jim would admit such a thing, let Trixie know the situation was indeed as dire as she'd thought. And her worries weren't over. Jim appeared to be slurring some of his words, and that wasn't good. In health class at school, she learned that exhaustion mixed with exposure to cold water could spell hypothermia.

"You're not out of the woods yet," she told him with growing concern. "We need to get you out of this wind and into some dry clothing as soon as possible. Are you up for the hike?"

Jim stumbled to his knees, making it clear that he wasn't. "Give me just a minute," he begged, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Really."

Only Trixie wasn't so sure. Again pulling off her red Bob-White jacket, she wriggled out of the oversized wool sweater she'd been wearing underneath. Left just in her light blouse, she shivered, imaging how cold Jim must be.

"Here, put this on," she ordered, tossing him the heavy woolen sweater. "It's one of Mart's hand-me-downs. It may be a little snug."

Jim didn't care what size the sweater was, as long as it warmed him up. But first, he had to get out of his wet chambray shirt, which wasn't proving easy. Still shaking uncontrollably, his fingers fumbled uselessly with the buttons.

"Here, let me help," Trixie offered, coming to his aide. She'd dressed and undressed her little brother Bobby a million times, but assisting Jim felt strangely awkward to her. The sensation only grew worse as she saw their friends approaching.

"There you are!" Honey called out, as the newcomers set their picnic gear down under a tree. She was clearly perturbed and made no bones about it. "Shame on you for taking off without telling us. I'll have you know we've been looking high and low for you two!"

Brian and Dan were close on her heels and appeared equally upset. As the angry trio grew nearer, Dan let out a whoop of surprise.

"Looks to me like they didn't want to be found," he jeered, soon to regret his remark.

Jim's ears went red. He pulled away from Trixie, insisting he could finish on his own. Trixie, in turn, grew furious. Scooping up a pine cone, she threw it at Mr. Mangan with all of her might. "Stop being an immature clod!" she shouted. "Jim fell in the creek. Can't you see he needs help?"

Instantly, Brian took charge of the situation. Peeling Jim out of the soaking shirt, he slipped the dry sweater over his buddies head and helped him get his arms through the armholes.

Trixie let out a big sigh of relief. "Boy, am I glad to see you," she breathed as her brother proceeded to check his patient's heart rate by putting his fingers to his friend's wrist.

Nodding, Brian let Trixie know he understood her fears. "Dan, bring me the blanket we used for the picnic," he barked loudly. "Honey, please check to see if there's any hot chocolate left in the thermos. Trixie, round up some firewood."

Using teamwork, the Bob-Whites were slowly able to get Jim's body temperature to rise. Happily, the color returned to his cheeks, and he no longer seemed foggy or weak. Feeling ready to make the trek back to the farm, Jim asked Trixie not to add any more wood to the fire. Without fuel, the small blaze would quickly dwindle.

In the meantime, Dan took an empty container from the picnic basket and used it to fetch water from the creek. Returning, he carefully splashed the water over the hot coals and then stirred them thoroughly with a stick to cool them down. Next, Dan used the same container he'd used for water, to scoop dirt over the pit. Once done, the conscientious young man finished by trampling the ground with his heavy boots.

Finally satisfied all of the embers were out, he extended his hand to Jim. The gesture was meant not only to help his friend to his feet but also as an apology for having been a jerk. In accepting his offer, Jim showed Dan and the other Bob-Whites, there were no hard feelings.

Starting up the hill, Jim took a glance at his watch. It was still running, which was good. But it was getting late, very late, and that wasn't good. "Gosh," he cried, stepping up the pace, "Is it really a quarter after four?"

Brain moved into the lead to slow his friend down. "Afraid so," he admitted. "I imagine Regan and Tom have already hit town. You were in a dazed for quite a while, Jim. Thank goodness Trixie got you out of that creek when she did. You were in some serious trouble."

Honey, who was taking up the rear, tapped Trixie first on one shoulder, and then the other, with the branch she was using as a walking stick. "I hereby dub you, hero-of-the-day," she giggled, glad the worst was over.

Trixie, who was finally able to relax, giggled too, but she didn't think she deserved anyone's praise. In her opinion, she hadn't really done that much. "Jim's gotten me out of a lot tighter spots," she reminded her friends.

Dan let out a hoot. "Isn't that the truth," he said. "Like the time you got trapped in that sinkhole in Missouri. Or the time Slim was holding a gun on you on Cobbett's Island. Or who could forget the time…"

"That's enough," Jim told him soberly. "I consider all of you heroes today," he added.

Brian paused long enough to give a flamboyant bow, then flung his arm into the air. "All for one and one for all," he quoted, from The Three Musketeers, "united we stand divided we fall."

As the B.W.G.s resumed their march, "here, heres!" could be heard echoing through the valley.


Only the merriment wasn't to last. Before long, the band of hikers grew weary, and their focus turned more inward. Spurred on by the knowledge that Miss Trask was undoubtedly worried about them, the teens' only goal was making it back to the house before 5:30 when Mr. Handleman was set to arrive for dinner.

As they neared the top of the knoll, the path widened, and Honey made an effort to catch up with Trixie. As exhausted as she was, she could contain her curiosity no longer. "So tell me, just what were you and Jim doing down by the creek?" she whispered in her friend's ear so the others wouldn't hear.

Trixie blushed at the mild insinuation and hoped her inquisitor didn't notice. She and Jim hadn't done anything inappropriate. And yet, somehow, the others made her feel like they had. Still, Trixie realized Honey was justified in asking. They'd been so wrapped up in taking care of Jim; she'd forgotten to tell the Bob-Whites about their findings at the fisherman's cabin.

"Remember the explosion we heard the night of the storm?" Trixie whispered back. "Well, Jim and I figured out what it was. And you're not going to believe this, Honey".

As Trixie finished her story, Honey became excited. "My brother's going to the sheriff, isn't he?" she asked.

"That's where we were headed when he fell in the creek," Trixie replied. "I suppose now we'll go after dinner."

Only there would be no need for the young people to make a special trip into town to speak with Sheriff Baker. When the B.W.G.s broke into the back field; they spotted a familiar face. And it was a very concerned face at that.

"Mr. Handleman?!" Trixie exclaimed as the alarmed man rushed to meet them. "Did Miss Trask send you to find us? I'm sorry we're late, but…"

"You may explain later," the shopkeeper said, stopping her short. "Hurry, come with me. There's been an accident at the farm."