CHAPTER 5 OVER THE BARBED WIRE

Mrs. Downey laughed at Penny’s remark, not taking it very seriously.

“I wish someone could uncover damaging evidence against Harvey Maxwell,” she declared. “But I fear he’s far too clever a man to be caught in anything dishonest. Sometime when you’re in the mood to hear a tale of woe, I’ll tell you how he is running things at Pine Top.”

“I’d like to learn everything I can about him,” responded Penny eagerly.

Mrs. Downey led the girl across the field to the road where the bob-sled and team of horses had been hitched. Jake, the handy man, appeared a moment later, loaded down with skis and luggage. Maxine Miller, Francine, and a well-dressed business man soon arrived and were helped into the sled.

“This is unique taxi service to say the least,” declared Francine, none too well pleased. “It must take ages to get up the mountain.”

“Not very long,” replied Mrs. Downey cheerfully.

Jake drove, with the hotel woman and her guests sitting on the floor of the sled, covered by warm blankets.

“Is it always so cold here?” shivered Miss Miller.

“Always at this time of year,” returned Mrs. Downey. “You’ll not mind it in a day or two. And the skiing is wonderful. We had six more inches of snow last night.”

Penny thoroughly enjoyed the novel experience of gliding swiftly over the hard-packed snow. The bobsled presently passed a large rustic building at the base of the mountain which Mrs. Downey pointed out as the Fergus hotel.

“I suppose all the rich people stay there,” commented Miss Miller. “Do you know if they have a guest named David Balantine?”

“The producer? Yes, I believe he is staying at the Fergus hotel.”

At the next bend Jake stopped the horses so that the girls might obtain a view of the valley.

“Over to the right is the village of Pine Top,” indicated Mrs. Downey. “Just beyond the Fergus hotel is the site of an old silver mine, abandoned many years ago. And when we reach the next curve you’ll be able to look north and see into Canada.”

A short ride on up the mountain brought the party to the Downey Lodge, a small but comfortable log building amid the pines. On the summit of a slope not far away they could see the figure of a skier, poised for a swift, downward flight.

Mrs. Downey assigned the guests to their rooms, tactfully establishing Penny and Francine at opposite ends of a long hall.

“Luncheon will be served at one o’clock,” she told them. “If you feel equal to it you’ll have time for a bit of skiing.”

“I believe I’ll walk down to the village and send a wire to Dad,” said Penny. “Then this afternoon I’ll try my luck on the slopes.”

“Just follow the road and you’ll not get lost,” instructed Mrs. Downey.

Penny unpacked her suitcase, and then set forth at a brisk walk for the village. She found the telegraph station without difficulty and dispatched a message to her father, telling him of Harvey Maxwell’s presence in Pine Top.

The town itself, consisting of half a dozen stores and twice as many houses, was soon explored. Before starting back up the mountain Penny thought she would buy a morning newspaper. But as she made inquiry at a drug store, the owner shook his head.

“We don’t carry them here. The only papers we get come in by plane. They’re all sold out long before this.”

“Oh, I see,” said Penny in disappointment, “well, next time I’ll try to come earlier.”

“I beg your pardon,” ventured a voice directly behind her. “Allow me to offer you my paper.”

Penny turned around to see that Ralph Fergus had entered the drugstore in time to hear her remark. With a most engaging smile, he extended his own newspaper.

“Oh, I don’t like to take your paper,” she protested, wishing to accept no favor however small from the man.

“Please do,” he urged, thrusting it into her hand. “I have finished with it.”

“Thank you,” said Penny.

She took the paper and started to leave the store. Mr. Fergus fell into step with her, following her outside.

“Going back up the mountain?” he inquired casually.

“Yes, I was.”

“I’ll walk along if you don’t mind having company.”

“Not at all.”

Penny studied Ralph Fergus curiously, fairly certain he had a special reason for wishing to walk with her. For a time they trudged along in silence, the snow creaking beneath their boots.

“Staying at the Downey Lodge?” Fergus inquired after awhile.

“Yes, I am.”

“Like it there?”

“Well, I only arrived on the morning plane.”

“Yes, I noticed you aboard,” he nodded. “Mrs. Downey is a very fine woman, a very fine woman, but her lodge isn’t modern. You noticed that, I suppose?”

“I’m not especially critical,” smiled Penny. “It seemed to suit my needs.”

“You’ll be more critical after you have stayed there a few days,” he warned. “The service is very poor. Even this little matter of getting a morning newspaper. Now our hotel sees that every guest has one shoved under his door before breakfast.”

“That would be very nice, I’m sure,” remarked Penny dryly. “You’re the manager of the hotel, aren’t you?”

Ralph Fergus gave her a quick, appraising glance. “Right you are,” he said jovially. “Naturally I think we have the finest hotel at Pine Top and I wish you would try it. I’ll be glad to make you a special rate.”

“You’re very kind.” It was a struggle for Penny to keep her voice casual. “I may drop around sometime and look the hotel over.”

“Do that,” he urged. “Here is my card. Just ask for me and I’ll show you about.”

Penny took the card and dropped it into her pocket. A few minutes later as they passed the Fergus hotel, her companion parted company with her.

“He thought I was an ordinary guest at Mrs. Downey’s,” Penny told herself. “Otherwise, he never would have dared to make such an open bid for my patronage.”

Upon returning to the lodge she told Mrs. Downey of her meeting with Ralph Fergus.

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit,” the woman replied angrily. “Fergus has been using every method he can think of to get my guests away from me. He has runners out all the time, talking up his hotel and talking mine down.”

Penny sat on the edge of the kitchen table, watching Mrs. Downey stir a great kettle of steaming soup.

“While I was coming here on the plane I heard Fergus and Maxwell speaking about you.”

“You did, Penny? What did they have to say? Nothing good, I’ll warrant.”

“I couldn’t understand what they meant at the time, but now I think I do. They said that nothing stood in their way except your place. Maxwell declared he would soon take care of you, and that he was on his way to Pine Top to show Fergus how such affairs were handled.”

Mrs. Downey kept on stirring with the big spoon. “So the screws are to be twisted a bit harder?” she asked grimly.

“Why do they want your place?” Penny inquired.

“Because I take a few of their guests away from them. If my lodge closed up they could raise prices sky high, and they would do it, too!”

“They offered me a special rate, whatever that means.”

“Fergus has been cutting his room rents lately for the sole purpose of getting my customers away from me. He makes up for it by charging three and even four dollars a meal. The guests don’t learn that until after they have moved in.”

“And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

Mrs. Downey shook her head. “I’ve been fighting with my back to the wall this past season. I don’t see how I possibly can make it another year. That is why I wanted you and your father to visit here before I gave up the place.”

“Dad might have helped you,” Penny said regretfully. “I’m sorry he wasn’t able to come.”

At one o’clock Mrs. Downey served a plain but substantial meal to fourteen guests who tramped in out of the snow. They called loudly for second and third helpings which were cheerfully given.

After luncheon Penny sat for a time about the crackling log fire and then she went to her room and changed into her skiing clothes.

“The nursery slopes are at the rear of the lodge,” Mrs. Downey told her as she went out through the kitchen. “But you’re much too experienced for them.”

“I haven’t been on skis for nearly two years.”

“It will come back to you quickly.”

“I thought I might taxi down and look over the Fergus hotel.”

“The trail is well marked. Just be careful as you get about half way down. There is a sharp turn and if you miss it you may find yourself wrapped around an evergreen.”

Penny went outside, and buckling on her skis, glided to the top of a long slope which fell rather sharply through lanes of pine trees to the wide valley below. As she was studying the course, reflecting that the crusted snow would be very fast, Francine came out of the lodge and stood watching her.

“What’s the matter, Penny?” she called. “Can’t you get up your nerve?”

Penny dug in her poles and pushed off. Crouching low, skis running parallel, she tore down the track. Pine trees crowded past on either side in a greenish blur. The wind whistled in her ears. She jabbed her poles into the snow to check her speed.

After the first steep stretch, the course flattened out slightly. From a cautious left traverse, a lifted stem turn gave her time to concentrate her full attention on the route ahead. She swerved to avoid a boulder which would have broken her ski had she crashed into it, and rode out a series of long, undulating hollows.

Gathering speed again, Penny made her decisions with lightning rapidity. There was no time to think. Confronted with a choice of turns, she chose the right hand trail, slashing through in a beautiful christiana. Too late, she realized her error.

Directly ahead loomed a barbed wire fence. There was no opportunity to turn aside. Penny knew that she must jump or take a disastrous fall.

Swinging her poles forward, she let them drop in the snow close to her ski tips. Crouching low she sprang upward with all her strength. The sticks gave her leverage so that she could lift her skis clear of the snow. Momentum carried her forward over the fence.

Penny felt the jar of the runners as they slapped on the snow. Then she lost her balance and tumbled head over heels.

Untangling herself, she sat up and gazed back at the barbed wire fence.

“I wish all my friends at Riverview could have seen that jump!” she thought proudly. “It was a beauty even if I did land wrong side up.”

A large painted sign which had been fastened to the fence, drew her attention. It read: “Skiers Keep Out.”

“I wonder if that means me?” remarked Penny aloud.

“Yes, it means you!” said an angry voice behind her.

Penny rolled over in the snow, waving her skis in the air. She drew in her breath sharply. An old man with a dark beard had stepped from the shadow of the pine trees, a gun grasped in his gnarled hands!