CHAPTER 9 A CALL FOR HELP

All that afternoon and far into the evening Penny devoted to her assigned task, trying to make sense out of the jumbled sentence of typewriting. She used first one method and then another, but she could not decode the brief message. She had moments when she even doubted that it was a code. At last, completely disgusted, she threw down her pencil and put the paper away in a bureau drawer.

“I never was meant to be a cryptographer or whatever you call those brainy fellows who unravel ciphers and things!” she grumbled. “Maybe the trouble with me is that I’m not bright.”

Switching off the lamp, Penny rolled up the shade, and stood for a moment gazing down into the dark valley. Far below she could see lights glowing in the Fergus hotel, mysterious and challenging.

“I feel as if I’m on the verge of an important discovery, yet nothing happens,” she sighed. “Something unusual is going on here, but what?”

Penny did not believe that Francine knew the answer either. The girl reporter undoubtedly had been sent to Pine Top upon a definite tip from her editor, yet she could not guess the nature of such a tip. It was fairly evident that Francine was after some sort of evidence, but so far she had made no progress in acquiring it.

“We’re both groping in the dark, searching for something we know is here but can’t see,” thought Penny. “And we watch each other like hawks for fear the other fellow will get the jump!”

The Green Door intrigued and puzzled her. While it might mean nothing at all, she could not shake off a feeling that if once she were able to get inside the room she might learn the answer to some of her questions.

Penny had turned over several plans in her mind, none of which suited her. The most obvious thing to do was to try to bribe an employee of the hotel to give her the information she sought. But if she failed, her identity would be disclosed to Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell. It seemed wiser to bide her time and watch.

Penny awoke the next morning to find large flakes of snow piling on the window sills. The storm continued and after breakfast only the most rugged skiers ventured out on the slopes. Francine hugged a hot air register, complaining that there was not enough heat, Many of the other guests, soon exhausting the supply of magazines, became restless.

Luncheon was over when Penny stamped in out of the cold to find Mr. Glasser fretfully pacing to and fro before the fireplace.

“When will the papers come?” he asked Mrs. Downey.

“Jake usually goes down to the village after them about four o’clock. But with this thick weather, the plane may not get in today.”

“It’s in now, Mrs. Downey,” spoke Penny, shaking snow from her red mittens. “I saw it nearly half an hour ago, flying low over the valley.”

“Then the papers must be at Pine Top by this time.” Mrs. Downey hesitated before adding: “I’ll call Jake from his work and ask him to go after them.”

“Let me,” offered Penny quickly.

“In this storm?”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I rather like it.”

“All right, then,” agreed Mrs. Downey in relief. “But don’t get lost, whatever you do. If the trails become snowed over it might be better to stay on the main road.”

“I won’t get lost,” laughed Penny. “If worse comes to worst I always can climb a pine tree and sight the Fergus hotel.”

She dried out her mittens, and putting on an extra sweater beneath her jacket, stepped outside the lodge. The wind had fallen and only a few snowflakes were whirling down. Hearing the faint tingle of bells, Penny turned to gaze toward the road, where a pair of white horses were pulling an empty lumber wagon up the hill.

The driver, hunched over on the seat, was slapping his hands together to keep them warm.

“Why, that looks like Old Whiskers himself,” thought Penny. “It is Peter Jasko.”

The observation served only to remind her of their unpleasant meeting. Since being so discourteously ejected from the Jasko property Penny had not ventured back. Knowing that the old man was away she felt sorely tempted to again visit the locality.

“I guess I ought not to take the time,” she decided regretfully. “Mr. Glasser will be fretting for his paper.”

Making a quick trip down the mountainside, Penny swung into the village. Mrs. Downey had told her that she would be able to get the newspapers at the Pine Top Cafe where a boy named Benny Smith had an agency.

Entering the restaurant, she glanced about but saw no one who was selling papers. Finally, she ventured to ask the proprietor if she had come to the right place.

“This is the right place,” he agreed cheerfully. “Benny went home a little while ago.”

“Then how do I get the papers for Mrs. Downey’s lodge?”

“Guess you’re out of luck,” he replied. “They didn’t come in today.”

“But I saw the plane.”

“The plane got through all right. I don’t know what was wrong. Somehow the papers weren’t put aboard.”

Penny turned away in disappointment. She had made the long trip to the village for no purpose. While she did not mind for herself, she knew that Mr. Glasser and the other guests were likely to be annoyed. After a day of confinement indoors they looked forward to news from the outside world.

“It’s strange the papers didn’t come,” she mused as she started back to the Downey lodge. “This isn’t the first time they’ve failed to arrive either.”

Penny climbed steadily for a time and then sat down on a log to rest a moment. She was not far from the Jasko cabin. By making her own trail through the woods she could reach it in a very few minutes.

A mischievous idea leaped into her mind, fairly teasing to be put into effect. What fun to climb the forbidden barbed wire fence and honeycomb Mr. Jasko’s field with ski tracks! She could visualize his annoyance when he returned home to learn that a mysterious skier had paid him a visit.

“He oughtn’t to be so mean,” she said aloud to justify herself. “It will serve him right for trying to frighten folks with shotguns!”

Penny fastened on her skis and glided off through the woods. She kept her directions straight and soon emerged into a clearing to find herself in view of the Jasko cabin. Drawing near the barbed wire fence she stopped short and stared.

“Why, that old scamp! He really did it!”

A new strand of wire had been added to the fence, making it many inches higher. Penny’s suggestion, offered as a joke, had been acted upon by Peter Jasko. Not even an expert ski jumper could hope to clear the improved barrier. Any person who came unwittingly down the steep slope must take a disastrous tumble at the base of the fence.

“This settles it,” thought Penny grimly. “My conscience is perfectly clear now.”

She rolled under the fence and surveyed the unblemished expanse of snowy field with the eye of a mechanical draftsman.

“I may as well be honest about it and sign my name,” she chuckled.

Starting in at the far corner of the field she made a huge double-edged “P” with her long runners. It took a little ingenuity to figure out an “E” but two “N’s” were fairly easy to execute. She finished “Y” off with a flourish and cocked her head sideways to view her handiwork.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” she congratulated herself. “Only I’ve used up too much space. We’ll have to have a big Penny and a little Parker.”

She ran off a “P” and an “A” but even her limber body was not equal to the contortion required for an “R.” In the process of making a neat curve she suddenly lost her balance and toppled over in an ungainly heap.

“Oh, now I’ve done it!” she moaned, slowly picking herself up. “All my wonderful artistry gone for nothing. ‘Parker’ looks like a big smudge!”

A sound, suspiciously suggesting a muffled shout of laughter, reached Penny’s ears. She glanced quickly about. No one was in sight. The windows of the cabin were deserted.

“I think I’ll be getting out of here,” she decided. “If Old Whiskers should come back this wouldn’t be a healthy place to practice handwriting.”

Penny dug in her poles and glided toward the fence. In the act of rolling under the barbed wires, she suddenly froze motionless. She had heard a cry and this time there was no doubt in her mind as to the direction from which the sound had come. Her startled gaze focused upon the cabin amid the trees.

“Help! Help!” called a shrill, half muffled voice. “Come back, and let me out of my prison!”