The Happy Valley Mystery Read Online Free PDF

Gorman left. We’ll take care of this.”
    Obediently, Honey and Diana turned back-but not Trixie.
    “You can’t order me around like that, Brian Belden,” she said. “Jeepers, just look at the way that snow is coming down... like closed fists!”
    “It’s wet and wadded together,” Jim said. “It’s almost covered the ground already ”
    “And the sheep,” Trixie said. “Don’t they look queer? They have topcoats of snow wool. How was it that Mr.
    Gorman said to call them last night?”
    “I know,” Jim said. “It sounded something like an auctioneer s lingo.”
    “Suppose you call them, then,” Brian suggested, “before Tip and Tag scatter them all over the landscape. What’s the matter with those crazy dogs, anyway?”
    Trixie whistled and called, “Here, Tag! Here, Tip!” and the dogs obeyed. “Someone tell them what to do,” she said. “Jim, call the sheep!”
    Jim cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sooooo— sheep!” he called. The Beldens doubled up, laughing. “Hush!” Jim said. “Ooooo-baaaa-aaaa! Sooooo-sheep!” It must not have sounded funny to the sheep, even if it did to the Bob-Whites, for their heads went up, and when two big ewes started toward Jim’s voice, the rest obediently followed.
    The boys went out into the field then, to run ahead of the sheep toward the shelter field. “After them, Tip! Trixie called. “Good boy, Tag!” Heads up, barking, their tails going like semaphores, the dogs ran back and forth, circling always, herding the sheep into a smaller area, directing them toward the shelters.
    “Tip’s gone astray after something,” Mart called as one of the collies disappeared over the top of a knoll. "After a cottontail, I’ll bet. The snow brings them out. I wish he’d keep his mind on the business at hand. Where does he think he’s going?”
    “Let him alone. The sheep are all going through the gate now,” Trixie said. Then, as she caught sight of Tip, she shouted, “There he is now. See what he found!” Over the knoll, urged ahead by the circling collie, came two young ewes, protesting angrily.
    “Tip knows more than a person does,” Brian said. “There goes Tag now.”
    After half a dozen such forays, the dogs seemed to be content. “They’re so smart,” Mart said. “I believe they can even count, and they know that now the flock’s all in and safe.”
    It seemed so, indeed, for the collies watched Jim and Brian pull the gate shut, saw the sheep seek shelter under the roofed sheds, then followed the Bob-Whites back to the house.
    They were just inside when the telephone rang. Diana answered. “Yes, Mr. Gorman. Oh, yes, everything’s fine. The boys and Trixie just came in. Here’s Brian. Do you want to speak to him?”
    They all listened to Mr. Gorman’s voice. It sounded strained at first. They couldn’t hear what he was saying to Brian, but Trixie gave a sigh of relief as the manager’s voice softened and seemed less worried when Brian told him the sheep were all under shelter.
    “It wasn’t any too soon,” Trixie sighed. “The snow must be two inches deep now. No wonder Mr. Gorman was worried. It’s still snowing. It doesn’t snow big wet wads of flakes like this in Sleepyside, does it?”
    “Let’s forget Sleepyside for the moment,” Mart suggested. “Say, Di, something smells wonderful! After dinner let’s watch TV, shall we?”
    “With that Ping-Pong table in the basement? Not me!” Jim said. “Let’s pair up. Trixie and I’ll take you all on in turns.”
    “Mrs. Gorman said there’s an old record player in the playroom,” Honey said, “and some records more than twenty years old. She thought we’d have a ball playing them.”
    “Twenty years old... gosh!” Trixie said. “I didn’t even know they made records that long ago. It’ll probably be one of those old machines with a big horn. You know... someone gave us one to sell at our antique show for UNICEF.”
    “It’s not that ancient. I saw it,” Brian