CHAPTER 10 LOCKED IN THE CABIN

Penny hesitated, and as the call was repeated, went slowly back toward the cabin. She could see no one.

“Up here!” shouted the voice.

Glancing toward the second story windows, Penny saw a girl standing there, her face pressed to the pane.

“Peter Jasko’s granddaughter!” thought Penny. “And she must have seen me decorating the place with ski tracks.”

However, the other girl was only concerned with her own predicament. She smiled and motioned for Penny to come directly under the window.

“Can you help me get out of here?” she called down.

“You’re not locked in?” inquired Penny in astonishment.

“I certainly am! My grandfather did it. He fastened the door of the loft.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Oh, not very long,” the girl answered impatiently, “but I’m sick of it! Will you help me out of here?”

“How?”

“Grandfather always hides the key to the outside door in the woodshed. It should be hanging on a nail by the window.”

Penny hardly knew what to do. It was one thing to annoy Peter Jasko by making a few ski tracks in his yard, but quite another to antagonize him in more serious ways. For all she could tell, he might have locked the girl in the cabin as a punishment for some wrongdoing.

“Does your grandfather often leave you like this?” she asked dubiously.

“Always when there’s snow on the ground,” came the surprising answer. “Oh, please let me out of this hateful place! Don’t be such a goody-good!”

To be accused of being a “goody-good” was a novel experience for Penny. But instead of taking offense she laughed and started toward the woodshed.

“On a nail by the window!” the girl shouted after her. “If it isn’t there look on the shelf by the door.”

Penny found the key and came back. Taking off her cumbersome skis, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the cabin. The room was rather cold for the fire had nearly gone out. Despite a bareness of furniture, the place had a comfortable appearance. Snowshoes decorated the walls along with a deer head and an out-dated calendar. There was a cook stove, a homemade table, chairs, and a cot.

“Do hurry up!” called the impatient voice from above. “Climb the steps.”

At the far end of the room a rickety, crudely constructed ladder ascended to a rectangular trap door in the ceiling. Mounting it, Penny investigated the fastening, a stout plug of wood. She turned it and pushed up the heavy door. Instantly, it was seized from above and pulled out of the way.

Head and shoulders through the opening, Penny glanced about curiously. The room under the roof certainly did not look like a prison cell. It was snug and warm, with curtains at the windows and books lining the wall shelves. The floor was covered with a bright colored rag rug. There was a comfortable looking bed, a rocker and even a dressing table.

“Thanks for letting me out.”

Penny turned to gaze at the girl who stood directly behind her. She was not very pretty, for her nose was far too blunt and her teeth a trifle uneven. One could see a faint resemblance to Peter Jasko.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” replied Penny, but with no conviction. “I hope your grandfather won’t be too angry.”

“Oh, he won’t know about it,” the girl answered carelessly. “I see you know who I am—Sara Jasko.”

“My name is Penny Parker.”

“I guessed the Penny part. I saw you trying to write it in the snow. You don’t believe in signs either, do you?”

“I didn’t have any right to trespass.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Grandfather is an old fuss-budget. But deep down inside he’s rather nice.”

“Why did he lock you up here?”

“It’s a long story,” sighed Sara. “I’ll tell you about it later. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Penny backed down the ladder. The amazing granddaughter of Peter Jasko followed, taking the steps as nimbly as a monkey.

Going to a closet, Sara pulled out a wind-breaker, woolen cap, and a stub-toed pair of high leather shoes which she began to lace up.

“You’re not aiming to run away?” Penny asked uneasily.

“Only for an hour or so. This snow is too beautiful to waste. But you’ll have to help me get back to my prison.”

“I don’t know what this is all about. Suppose you tell me, Sara.”

“Oh, Grandfather is funny,” replied the girl, digging in the closet again for her woolen gloves. “He doesn’t trust me out of his sight when there’s snow on the ground. Today he had to go up the mountain to get a load of wood so he locked me in.”

“What has snow to do with it?”

“Why, everything! You must have heard about Grandfather. He hates skiing.”

“Oh, and you like to ski,” said Penny, “is that it?”

“I adore it! My father, Bret Jasko, was a champion.” Sara’s animated face suddenly became sober. “He was killed on this very mountain. Grandfather never recovered from the shock.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” murmured Penny sympathetically.

“It happened ten years ago while my father was skiing. Ever since then Grandfather has had an almost fanatical hatred of the hotel people. And he is deathly afraid I’ll get hurt in some way. He forbids me to ski even on the easy slopes.”

“But you do it anyway?”

“Of course. I slip away whenever I can,” Sara admitted cheerfully. “Skiing is in my blood. I couldn’t give it up.”

“And you don’t mind deceiving your grandfather?”

“You don’t understand. There’s no reasoning with him. Each year he gets a little more set in his ways. He knows that I slip away to ski, and that’s why he locks me up. Otherwise, Grandfather is a dear. He’s taken care of me since my father died.”

Sara wriggled into her awkward-fitting coat, wrapped a red scarf about her throat and started for the door.

“Coming, Penny?”

“I haven’t promised yet that I will help you get back into your cubby-hole.”

“But you will,” said Sara confidently.

“I suppose so,” sighed Penny. “Nevertheless, I don’t particularly like this.”

They stepped out of the cabin into the blinding sunlight. The storm had stopped, but the wind blew a gust of snow from the roof into their faces.

“My skis are hidden in the woods,” said Sara. “We’ll walk along the fence so my footprints won’t be so noticeable.”

“The place is pretty well marked up now,” Penny observed dryly. “Your grandfather would have to be blind not to see them.”

“Yes, but they’re your tracks, not mine,” grinned Sara. “Besides, this strong wind is starting to drift the snow.”

They followed the barbed wire fence to the woods. Sara went straight to an old log and from its hollow interior drew out a pair of hickory jumping skis.

“Let’s walk up to Mrs. Downey’s lodge,” she proposed. “Her chute is a dandy, but most of the guests are afraid to use it.”

“I haven’t tried it myself,” admitted Penny. “It looks higher than Pike’s Peak.”

“Oh, you have plenty of nerve,” returned Sara carelessly. “I saw you take Grandfather’s barbed wire entanglements.”

“That was a matter of necessity.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” laughed Sara, linking arms with Penny and pulling her along at a fast pace. “I’ll teach you a few tricks.”

They climbed the slope steadily until forced to pause for a moment to catch their breath.

“Mrs. Downey isn’t using the bob-sled run this year, is she?” Sara inquired curiously.

“I didn’t know anything about it.”

“She has a fine one on her property, but it’s out of sight from the lodge. I guess there haven’t been enough guests this season to make it worth while. Too bad. Bob-sled racing is even more fun than skiing.”

Coming within view of the Downey lodge, Penny observed that a few of the more hardy guests had taken advantage of the lull in the storm, and were out on the slopes, falling, picking themselves up, falling again.

“I have to run into the house a minute,” Penny excused herself. “I’ll be right back.”

She found Mrs. Downey in the kitchen and reported to her that she had been unable to purchase papers in the village.

“The plane came in, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but for some reason the papers weren’t put on.”

“I wonder if the Fergus hotel managed to get any?”

“I don’t see how they could.”

“It’s happened before,” declared Mrs. Downey.

“Time after time we miss our papers, and then I learn later that the Fergus hotel guests had them. I don’t understand it, Penny.”

“Shall I tell Mr. Glasser?”

“I’ll do it,” sighed Mrs. Downey. “He’s going to be more irritated than ever now.”

Penny went outside to find Sara waiting impatiently for her. The girl had strapped on her skis, and was using two sharp-pointed sticks for poles.

“Ready to try the jump, Penny?”

“No, but I’ll watch you.”

“There’s nothing to it, Penny,” encouraged Sara as they climbed side by side. “Just keep relaxed and be sure to have your skis pointing upward while you’re in the air.”

As it became evident that the girls intended to try the chute, a little crowd of spectators gathered on the slope below to watch.

“I’ll go first,” said Sara, “and after I’ve landed, you come after me.”

“I’ll think it over,” shivered Penny.

“Don’t think too long, or you’ll never try it. Just start.”

Sara bent to examine her bindings. Then in a graceful crouch she shot down the hill and with a lifting of her arms soared over the take-off. She made a perfectly poised figure in mid-air and an effortless landing on the slope below, finishing off with a christiana turn.

“She’s good!” thought Penny. “I’ll try it, too, even if they carry me off on a stretcher!”

In a wave of enthusiasm she pushed off, keeping her arms behind her. As the edge of the chute loomed up, she swung them forward and sprang into the air. But something went wrong. In an instant she was off balance, her arms swinging wildly in a futile attempt to straighten her body into position.

The gully appeared to be miles below her. Panic surged over Penny and her muscles became rigid. She was going to take a hard fall.

“Relax! Relax!” screamed a shrill voice.

With a supreme effort Penny drew back one ski and bent her knees. She felt a hard jar, and in amazement realized that she had landed on her feet. Her elation was short lived, for the next instant she collapsed and went sliding on down the slope.

Sara ran to help her up.

“Hurt?”

“Not a bit,” laughed Penny. “What a spectacle I must have made!”

“Your jump wasn’t half bad. Next time you’ll do much better.”

“I’ll never make one as good as yours,” Penny said enviously. Seeing Francine standing near, she turned to the reporter and exclaimed: “Did you watch Sara’s jump? Wasn’t it magnificent?”

“You’re both lucky you weren’t injured.” Francine walked over to the two girls. She stared at Sara’s odd looking costume. “You’re not a guest here?” she inquired.

“No,” answered Sara.

“Nor at the Fergus hotel?”

“I live a ways down the mountain.”

Francine regarded her coldly. “You’re the Jasko girl, aren’t you, whose grandfather will not allow skiers on his property?”

“Yes, but—”

“Since you Jaskos are so sign conscious I should think you might obey them yourself! Take a glance at that one over on the tree. Unless my eyesight is failing it reads: ‘Only guests of the hotel may use these slopes.’”