CHAPTER 13 RAIN
“Somehow I can’t get Old Mrs. Lear out of my mind, Lou. I keep wondering what happened at Red Valley after we left.”
Penny sprawled on the davenport of the Parker home, one blue wedge draped over its rolling upholstered arm. Her chum, Louise, had curled herself kitten fashion in a chair across the room.
A full week now had elapsed since the two girls had returned to Riverview from Red Valley. During that time it had rained nearly every day. Even now, a misty drizzle kept the girls indoors.
“Wonder if it’s raining at Red Valley?” Penny mused.
“Why don’t you tear that place out of your mind?” Louise demanded a bit impatiently. “We tried to solve the mystery and we couldn’t, so let’s forget it.”
“I do try, but I can’t,” Penny sighed. “I keep telling myself Mrs. Lear must be the person who masquerades as the Headless Horseman. Yet I can’t completely accept such a theory.”
“You’ll go batty if you keep on!”
“The worst of it is that everyone laughs at me,” Penny complained. “If I so much as mention the Headless Horseman Dad starts to crack jokes.”
A step sounded on the porch. “Speaking of your father, here he comes now,” Louise observed, and straightened in her chair.
Penny did not bother to undrape herself from the davenport. “‘Lo, Dad,” she greeted her father as he came in. “Aren’t you home early for lunch?”
“I am about half an hour ahead of schedule,” Mr. Parker agreed. He spoke to Louise as he casually dropped an edition of the Riverview Star into his daughter’s hands. “That town of yours has smashed into print, Penny.”
“What town?” Penny’s feet came down from the arm of the davenport and she seized the paper. “Not Red Valley?”
“Red Valley is very much in the news,” Mr. Parker replied. “These rains are weakening the dam and some of the experts are becoming alarmed. They are sending someone up to look it over.”
“Oh, Dad! I tried to tell you!” Penny cried excitedly. With Louise peering over her shoulder, she spread out the front page of the paper and read the story.
“Oh, it hardly tells a thing!” she complained after she had scanned it.
“So far there’s not been much to report,” Mr. Parker replied. “But if the dam should let go—wow! Would that be a story! I’m sending my best staff photographer there to get pictures.”
Penny pricked up her ears. “Salt Sommers?” she demanded.
“Yes, the Star can’t take a chance on being scooped by another paper.”
“Speaking of chances, Lou, this is ours!” Penny cried. “Why don’t we go to Red Valley with Salt?”
“Now just a minute,” interrupted Mr. Parker. “Salt’s going there on business and he’ll have no time for any hocus-pocus. You’ll be a bother to him!”
“A bother to Salt!” Penny protested indignantly. “Why, the very idea!”
“Another thing,” Mr. Parker resumed, “Red Valley isn’t considered the safest place in the world just now. While it’s unlikely the dam will give way, still the possibility exists. If it should, the break will come without warning and there’s apt to be a heavy loss of life.”
“But not mine,” said Penny with great confidence. “Don’t forget that I won three ribbons and a medal this year. Not for being a poor swimmer either.”
“All the same, I shouldn’t be too boastful,” her father advised dryly.
“When is Salt leaving?” Penny demanded.
“Any time now. But I’m sure he won’t let you tag along.”
“We’ll see if we can change his mind,” Penny grinned, reaching for the telephone. Disregarding her father’s frown, she called the photographer at the Star office. Salt was leaving for Red Valley in twenty minutes, and he willingly agreed to take two passengers.
“There, you see!” Penny cried triumphantly, slamming the receiver into its hook.
“I don’t like the idea,” Mr. Parker grumbled. “Let’s hear what Mrs. Weems has to say.”
The housekeeper, it developed, had a great deal to say. Penny, however, was equal to all arguments. So eloquently did she plead her case that Mrs. Weems weakened.
“You’ve wanted an old spinning wheel for months,” Penny reminded her. “While I’m at Red Valley I’ll get one for you.”
“It seems to me I’ve heard that argument before,” Mrs. Weems said dryly.
“I didn’t get a chance to see about it when I was there last time,” Penny hastened on. “This time I’ll make it a point, I promise. I’m pretty sure I can get the one Silas Malcom has.”
“If you must go, please don’t distract Salt with spinning wheels,” Mr. Parker said crossly. “Or Headless Horseman rot. Remember, he has a job to do.”
“Lou and I will help him,” Penny laughed. “Just wait and see!”
In the end, Mr. Parker and Mrs. Weems reluctantly said that Penny might go. Louise obtained permission from her mother to make the trip, and fifteen minutes later the girls were at the Star office. As they entered the wire photo room, a loudspeaker blared forth: “All right, Riverview, go ahead with your fire picture!”
“Goodness, what was that?” Louise exclaimed, startled.
“Only the wire photo dispatcher talking over the loudspeaker from New York,” Penny, chuckled. “We’re about to send a picture out over the network.”
“But how?”
“Watch and see,” Penny advised.
In the center of the room stood two machines with cylinders, one for transmitting pictures to distant stations, the other for receiving them. On the sending cylinder was wrapped a glossy 8 by 10 photograph of a fire. As Penny spoke, an attendant pressed a starter switch on the sending machine. There was a high pitched rasp as the clutch threw in, and the cylinder bearing the picture began to turn at a steady measured pace.
“It’s a complicated process,” Penny said glibly. “A photo electric cell scans the picture and transmits it to all the points on the network. Salt here could tell you more about it.”
“Too busy just now,” grinned the young photographer. He stood beside a cabinet stuffing flashbulbs into his coat pocket. “It’s time we’re traveling.”
Salt grinned in a harassed but friendly way at the girls. He was tall and freckled and not very good looking. Nevertheless, he was the best photographer on the Star.
“I’m afraid we took advantage of you in asking for a ride to Red Valley,” Penny apologized.
“Tickled to have you ride along,” Salt cut in. He picked up his Speed Graphic camera and slung a supply case over his shoulder. “Well, let’s shove off for the wet country.”
The ride by press car to Delta was far from pleasant. Salt drove too fast. The road was slippery once the auto left the pavement and ditches brimmed with brown muddy water.
At one point they were forced to detour five miles to avoid a bridge that had washed out. Instead of reaching Delta early in the day as they had planned, it was well into the afternoon before they arrived.
“Where shall I drop you girls?” Salt inquired wearily. “I’ll have to work fast if I get any pictures this afternoon.”
“Drop us anywhere,” Penny said. “We’ll spend the night with Mrs. Lear and go home by train tomorrow.”
“Wonder which way it is to the Huntley Dam?”
“We’ll show you the road,” Penny offered. “It’s directly on your way to let us off at the Malcom place. I want to stop there to see about a spinning wheel.”
Guided by the two girls, Salt drove up the winding hillside road to Silas Malcom’s little farm. There Penny and Louise said goodbye to him and sought to renew acquaintances with the elderly hillman. The old man got up from a porch rocker to greet them cordially.
“Well! Well! I knowed you’d come back one o’ these days,” he chuckled. “Thank ye mightily fer puttin’ them write-ups about Red Valley in the paper.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t have much to do with it,” Penny said modestly. “Red Valley really is a news center these days.”
“We’re sittin’ on a stick o’ dynamite here,” the old man agreed. “I’m worried about Mrs. Lear. Me and the wife want her to move up here on the hill where she’d be safe, but not that ole gal. She’s as stubborn as a mule.”
“And what of the Burmasters?”
“I ain’t worryin’ none about them. They kin look after themselves. They’re so cock sure there ain’t no danger.”
“Then you feel the situation really is serious?”
Old Silas spat into the grass. “When that dam lets go,” he said, “there ain’t goin’ to be no written notice sent ahead. The Burmaster place will be taken, and then Mrs. Lear’s. After that the water’ll sweep down on Delta faster’n an express train. From there it’ll spread out over the whole valley.”
“But why don’t people move to safety?”
“Down at Delta plenty of ’em are pullin’ up stakes,” Old Silas admitted. “The Burmasters are sittin’ tight though and so is Mrs. Lear.”
“We were planning on staying with her tonight,” Louise contributed uneasily.
“Reckon you’ll be safe enough,” Old Silas assured her. “Water level ain’t been risin’ none in the last ten hours. But if we have another rain above us—look out.”
After chatting a bit longer, Penny broached the matter of the spinning wheel. To her delight, Mr. Malcom not only offered to sell it for a small sum, but he volunteered to haul it to the railroad station for shipment.
The slow, tedious wagon ride down to Delta gave the girls added opportunity to seek information from the old man. Penny deliberately spoke of the Headless Horseman. Had the mysterious rider been seen or heard of in the Valley in recent days?
“You can’t prove it by me,” the old man chuckled. “I been so busy gettin’ in my crops I ain’t had no time fer such goins on.”
Arriving at Delta, Mr. Malcom drove directly to the railroad station.
“Joe Quigley ought to be around here somewhere,” he remarked. “See if you can run him down while I unload this spinnin’ wheel.”
Penny and Louise entered the deserted waiting room of the depot. The door of the little station office was closed and at first glance they thought no one was there. Then they saw Joe Quigley standing with his back toward them. He was engrossed in examining something on the floor, an object that was below their field of vision.
“Hello, Mr. Quigley!” Penny sang out.
The station agent straightened so suddenly that he bumped his head against the ticket counter. He stared at the girls. Then as they moved toward the little window, he hastily gathered up whatever he had been examining. As if fearful that they would see the object, he crammed it into an open office closet and slammed the door.
