CHAPTER 6 GHOSTS AND WITCHES

His ears laid back, Bones plunged headlong toward the gloom-shrouded bridge. Pins shook from Penny’s head, and her hair became a stream of gold in the wind. She hunched low in the saddle, but could not stop the horse though she pulled hard on the reins.

As she reached a dense growth of elder bushes, a man leaped out to grasp the bridle. Bones snorted angrily and pounded the earth with his hoofs.

“Oh, thank you!” Penny gasped, and then she realized that the man had not meant to help her.

“So you’re the one who’s been causing so much trouble here!” he exclaimed wrathfully. “Get down out of that saddle!”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Penny retorted. She tried to push him away.

Louise came trotting up on White Foot. Her unexpected arrival seemed to disconcert the man for he released Bones’ bridle.

“What’s he trying to do?” Louise demanded sharply, pulling up beside her chum.

Before Penny could find tongue, another man, heavily built, came running across the narrow bridge. His bald head bore no covering and the long tails of his well-cut coat flapped wildly in the wind.

“You let that rider get away, Jennings!” he cried accusingly to the workman. “Did you see him ride across the bridge and then take a trail along the creek bed?”

“No, I didn’t, Mr. Burmaster,” the workman mumbled. “I heard hoof beats and came as fast as I could from the grist mill. The only rider I saw was this girl. There’s two of ’em.”

“We have a perfect right to be here,” Penny declared. “We were riding along the pike when we heard hoofbeats, then a scream. My horse became frightened and plunged down this way toward the bridge.”

“I’m sorry I grabbed the bridle, Miss,” the workman apologized. “You see, I thought—”

“Your trouble, Jennings, is that you never think!” cut in the owner of Sleepy Hollow curtly. “You never even saw the rider who got away?”

“No, sir. But I’ll get the other workmen and go after him.”

“Don’t waste your efforts. He was only a boy—not the man we’re after.”

“Only a boy, sir?”

“The scamp clattered a stick against the railing of the bridge just to frighten my wife. Mrs. Burmaster is a very nervous woman.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the workman rather emphatically. “I know, sir.”

“Oh, you do?” Mr. Burmaster asked, his tone unfriendly. “Well, get to the house and tell her there’s no cause to scream to high heaven. The boy, whoever he was, is gone.”

“I’ll tell her,” the workman mumbled, starting away.

“And mind, next time I order you to watch this road, I mean watch it!” the estate owner called after him. “If you don’t, I’ll find another man to take your place.”

As Mr. Burmaster turned toward the girls, they obtained a better view of his face. He wore glasses and his cheeks were pouchy; a hooked nose curved down toward a mouth that was hard and firm. Yet when he spoke it was with a surprisingly pleasant tone of voice.

“I must apologize for the stupid actions of my workman,” he said to Penny. “He should have known that you were not the one we are after.”

“Not the Headless Horseman?” Penny asked, half jokingly.

Mr. Burmaster stepped closer so that he could gaze up into the girl’s face. He scrutinized it for a moment, and then without answering her question said: “You are a stranger to the valley.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Then may I ask how you knew about our difficulties here at Sleepy Hollow?”

Penny explained that she had seen the estate owner’s advertisement in the Hobostein Weekly. She did not add that it was the real reason why she and Louise had made the long trip from Riverview.

“I’ll be willing to pay any amount to be rid of that so-called ghost who annoys us here at Sleepy Hollow,” Mr. Burmaster said bitterly. “Night after night my wife has had no rest. The slightest sound terrifies her.”

“Tell us more about the mysterious rider,” Penny urged. “What time does he appear?”

“Oh, there’s no predicting that. Often he rides over the bridge on stormy or foggy nights. Then again it’s apt to be just after dusk. Tonight we thought we had the scamp, but it proved to be only a mischievous boy.”

“Your workmen stand guard?”

“They have orders to watch this bridge day and night. But the men are a lazy lot. They wander off or they go to sleep.”

“Isn’t it possible that the disturbance always has been caused by a boy—perhaps this lad who clattered over the bridge tonight?”

“Impossible!” Mr. Burmaster snapped impatiently. “I’ve seen the Headless Horseman at least five times myself.”

“You mean the rider actually has no head?” Louise interposed in awe.

“The appearance is that. Of course there’s no question but someone from the village or the hills has been impersonating Irving’s celebrated character of fiction. The point is, the joke’s gone too far!”

“I should think so,” Louise murmured sympathetically.

“My wife and I came to this little valley with only one thought. We wanted to build a fine home for ourselves amid peaceful surroundings. We brought in city workmen, a clever architect. No expense was spared to make this house and estate perfect. But when we tried to recreate the atmosphere of Sleepy Hollow, we didn’t anticipate getting a ghost with it.”

“When did the trouble first start?” Penny asked.

“Almost from the hour of our arrival. The country folks didn’t like it because we imported city labor. They hindered our efforts. The women were abusive to my wife. Then last Halloween, the Headless Horseman clattered over this bridge.”

“Couldn’t it have been a holiday prank?”

“We thought so at first, but a month later, the same thing happened again. This time the scamp tossed a pebble against our bedroom window. Since then the rider has been coming at fairly frequent intervals.”

“If you know it’s a prank why should it worry you?” Penny inquired.

“A thing like that wears one down after awhile,” the owner of the estate said wearily. “For myself I shouldn’t mind, but my wife’s going to pieces.”

“Was it your wife we heard scream?” Louise asked, seeking to keep the conversational ball rolling.

“Yes, she’s apt to go off the deep end whenever anyone rides fast over the bridge. My wife—”

Mr. Burmaster did not complete what he had intended to say. At that moment a soft padding of footsteps was heard, a creaking of boards on the bridge. From the direction of the house came a tall, shadowy figure.

“What were you saying about me, John?” The voice was that of a woman, shrill and strident.

“My wife,” murmured the estate owner. He turned toward her. “Matilda,” he said gently, “these girls are strangers to the Valley—”

“You were complaining about me to them!” the woman accused. “Oh, you needn’t deny it! I distinctly heard you! You’re always saying things to hurt my feelings. You don’t care how I suffer. Isn’t it enough that I have to live in this horrible community, among such cruel hateful people without you turning against me too?”

“Please, Matilda—”

“Don’t ‘Matilda’ me! Apologize at once.”

“Why, certainly I apologize,” Mr. Burmaster said soothingly. “I was only telling the girls how nervous it makes you when anyone rides at a fast pace over the bridge.”

“And why shouldn’t I be nervous?” the woman demanded. “Since we’ve come to this community, I’ve been subjected to every possible insult! I suppose you let that rider get away again?”

“He was only a mischievous boy.”

“I don’t care who he was!” the woman cried. “I want him caught and turned over to the authorities. I want everyone who rides over this bridge arrested!”

“This is a public highway, Matilda. When we built this footbridge over the brook we had to grant permission for pedestrians and horseback riders to pass.”

“Then make them change the ruling! Aren’t you the richest man in the Valley? Or doesn’t that mean anything?”

Mr. Burmaster glanced apologetically at Penny and Louise. The girls, quite taken aback by the woman’s tirade, felt rather sorry for him. It was plain to see that Mrs. Burmaster was not a well woman. Her sharp, angular face was drawn as if from constant worry, and she kept patting nervously at the stiff rolls of her hair.

“Well, I guess we’d better be moving on,” Penny said significantly to Louise.

“Yes, we must,” her companion agreed with alacrity. “Mr. Burmaster, is Mrs. Lear’s place on down this road?”

The owner of Sleepy Hollow was given no opportunity to answer. Before he could speak, his wife stepped closer, glaring up at Louise in the saddle.

“So you’re friends of Mrs. Lear?” she demanded mockingly. “I suppose that old hag sent you here to snoop and pry and annoy me!”

“Goodness, no!” gasped Louise.

“We’ve never even seen the woman,” Penny added. “Silas Malcom told us that Mrs. Lear might give us a room for the night.”

“Silas Malcom!” Mrs. Burmaster seized upon the name. “He’s another who tries to make trouble for us!”

“If you’re in need of a place to stay, we’ll be glad to have you remain with us,” Mr. Burmaster invited. “We have plenty of room.”

Mrs. Burmaster remained silent, but in the semi-darkness, the girls saw her give her husband a quick nudge. No need to be told that they were unwelcome by the eccentric mistress of Sleepy Hollow.

“Thank you, we couldn’t possibly stay,” Penny said, gathering up the reins.

She and Louise walked their horses single file over the creaking bridge. Just as they reached the far end Mr. Burmaster called to them. Pulling up, they waited for him.

“Please don’t mind my wife,” he said in an undertone. “She doesn’t mean half what she says.”

“We understand,” Penny assured him kindly.

“You said you were interested in the Headless Horseman,” the estate owner went on hurriedly. “Well, my offer holds. I’ll pay a liberal reward to anyone who can learn the identity of the prankster. It’s no boy. I’m sure of that.”

Penny replied that she and Louise would like to help if they knew how.

“We’ll talk about that part later on,” Mr. Burmaster said. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, observing that his wife was coming. “No chance now. You’ll stay with Mrs. Lear tonight?”

“If she’ll take us in.”

“Oh, she will, though her place is an eye-sore. Now this is what you might do. Get the old lady to talking. If she should give you the slightest hint who the prankster is, seize upon it.”

“Then you think Mrs. Lear knows?”

“I suspect half the community does!” Mr. Burmaster answered bitterly. “Everyone except ourselves. We’re hated here. No one will cooperate with us.”

Penny thought over the request. She did not like the idea of going to Mrs. Lear’s home to spy.

“Well, we’ll see,” she answered, without making a definite promise.

Mrs. Burmaster was coming across the bridge. Not wishing to talk to her, the girls bade the owner of Sleepy Hollow a hasty farewell and rode away. Once on the turnpike, they discussed the queer mistress of the estate.

“If you ask me, everyone in this community is queer,” Louise grumbled. “Mrs. Burmaster just seems a bit more so than the others.”

Intent upon reaching the Lear homestead, the saddle-weary girls kept on along the winding highway. It was impossible to make good time for White Foot kept giving Louise trouble. Presently the mare stopped dead in her tracks, then wheeled and started back toward the Burmaster estate. Louise, bouncing helplessly, shrieked to her chum for help.

“Rein her in!” Penny shouted.

When Louise seemed unable to obey, Penny rode Bones alongside and seized the reins. White Foot then stopped willingly enough.

“All I ask of life is to get off this creature!” Louise half sobbed. “I’m tired enough to die! And we’ve had nothing to eat since noon.”

“Oh, brace up,” Penny encouraged her. “It can’t be much farther to Mrs. Lear’s place. I’ll lead your horse for awhile.”

Seizing the reins again, she led White Foot down the road at a walk. They met no one on the lonely, twisting highway. The only sound other than the steady clop of hoofbeats was an occasional guttural twang from a bullfrog.

The night grew darker. Louise began to shiver, though not so much from cold as nervousness. Her gaze constantly roved along the deep woods to the left of the road. Seeing something white and ghostly amid the trees, she called Penny’s attention to it.

“Why, it’s nothing,” Penny scoffed. “Just an old tree trunk split by lightning. That streak of white is the inner wood showing.”

A bend in the road lay just ahead. Rounding it, the girls saw what appeared to be a camp fire glowing in the distance. The wind carried a strong odor of wood smoke.

“Now what’s that?” Louise asked uneasily. “Someone camping along the road?”

“I can see a house on ahead,” Penny replied. “The bonfire seems to have been built in the yard.”

Both girls were convinced that they were approaching the Lear place. The fire, however, puzzled them. And their wonderment grew as they rode closer.

In the glare of the leaping flames they saw a huge, hanging iron kettle. A dark figure hovered over it, stirring the contents with a stick.

Involuntarily, Penny’s hand tightened on the reins and Bones stopped. Louise pulled up so short that White Foot nearly reared back on her hind legs.

“A witch!” Penny exclaimed, half jubilantly. “I’ve always wanted to meet one, and this is our chance!”