Free The Red Trailer Mystery by Julie Campbell Page A

she said. “Would you know if he tried to get a job at Wilson Ranch?”
    “No,” Ben said, “but Mr. Ditmar would. He’s the tall guy over there blowing the whistle. He owns the joint and is a swell person. Come on, we’ll ask him about your friend.”
    Mr. Ditmar nodded pleasantly when Honey asked him about Jim. “Why, yes,” he said, “a husky young redhead applied for a job here yesterday in all that rain. I liked the boy’s looks and we could use another junior athletic instructor here for the nursery group, but I couldn’t hire anyone without references. A letter from his principal or the minister of his church would do. I told him to have his parents get in touch with me right away.”
    Honey looked at Trixie. “Oh, gosh,” she said under her breath. “That’s too bad.”
    “What do you mean, too bad?” Ben demanded. “He couldn’t get a job at a better camp.”
    “I think I know what she means,” Mr. Ditmar said easily. “I got the impression from the way the boy evaded my questions that he was a runaway. Was I right?”
    Trixie hesitated a moment, then, deciding that Mr. Ditmar would prove to be a friend, she blurted, “Yes. Jim ran away from his cruel stepfather and we’ve got to find him before he runs away for good. He’s recently inherited half a million dollars but he doesn’t know it.”
    Together the two girls told the whole story, and when they had finished Mr. Ditmar said sympathetically, “I’m sorry now I didn’t hire him right on the spot although, of course, I couldn’t without knowing more of his background.”
    “Say,” Ben put in, “you girls look as though you were about to have a sunstroke. Would it be all right for them to take a quick swim, Mr. Ditmar?”
    “Certainly,” Mr. Ditmar said, and added, “We’re getting ready for the senior races. Maybe you’d like to stay and watch and have lunch with us afterward. The boys are brewing a hunter’s stew back at the ranch house and I’m sure they’d like to try it out on you girls.”
    Honey giggled. “It sounds like fun but I hope Bendidn’t have anything to do with the stew. If he did I’ll bet it’s full of red pepper.”
    “I’ll have you know,” Ben said airily, “that I’m a better cook than you’ll ever be.”
    “Maybe so,” Honey said warily, “but I can’t help remembering that hunt breakfast at Grandmother’s when you filled all the sugar bowls with salt. Were you ever unpopular!”
    “Kid stuff.” Ben grinned. “I was knee-high to a grasshopper then,” he told Trixie, “but Honey has never forgiven me ’cause her governess made her eat every bit of that salty, salty oatmeal.”
    “It was a mean trick,” Honey insisted, “and I didn’t dare tell on him because he said he’d put toads in my bed if I did.”
    One of Ben’s chums who had been standing nearby said with a chuckle, “Riker’s a dangerous character, all right, but last night we paid him back for all the stunts he’s pulled since camp opened. Didn’t we, Ben, old boy?”
    Ben clasped his forehead in mock despair. “I’ll say you did. I still can’t get the knots out of my sheets, and you, a pal of mine, Sid!” He turned to Honey. “Sid and I’ll stable your horses while you girls change at the ranch house. Here comes Mrs. Ditmar now. She’ll take care of you.”
    A plump, motherly-looking woman led Honey and Trixie past the stable and the corral to the main house. “I’m glad you brought your bathing suits,” she said. “You can change in my room. The telephone is out in the hall if you want to call for permission to stay to lunch.”
    Honey telephoned the Autoville cafeteria and left a message for Miss Trask with the manager. Then both girls hurried to the quarry. They had time for a quick dip before the swimming race started, and feeling cool and refreshed, perched on a large rock in the shade to watch.
    All of the boys were excellent swimmers, but Ben, in spite of his clowning, won with apparently no