that I’m worried about your property. But I am concerned about the folks who are still living in the valley.”

“Schultz, you’re a calamity-howler!” the other accused. “There’s no danger of the dam giving way and you know it. By writing these hot editorials you’re just trying to stir up public feeling—you’re hoping to shake me down so I’ll underwrite a costly and unnecessary repair bill.”

The editor pushed back his chair and arose. His voice remained controlled but his eyes snapped like fire brands.

“Get out of this office!” he ordered. “The Hobostein Weekly can do without your subscription. You’ve been a pain to this community ever since you came. Good afternoon!”

“You can’t talk like that to me, Byron Schultz!” the other man began hotly. Then his gaze fell upon Louise and Penny who stood just inside the door. Jamming on his hat, he went angrily from the building.

The editor crumpled a sheet of paper and hurled it into a waste basket. The act seemed to restore his good humor, for with a wry grin he then turned toward the girls.

“Yes?” he inquired.

Penny scarcely knew how to begin. Sliding into a chair beside the editor’s desk, she fumbled in her purse for the advertisement clipped from the Hobostein Weekly. To her confusion she could not find it.

“Lose something?” the editor inquired kindly. “That’s my trouble too. Last week we misplaced the copy for Gregg’s Grocery Store and was Jake hoppin’ mad! Found it again just before the Weekly went to press.”

“Here it is!” said Penny triumphantly. She placed the clipping on Mr. Schultz’ desk.

“Haven’t I had enough of that man in one day!” the editor snorted. “The old skinflint never paid me for the ad either!”

“Who is J. Burmaster?” Penny inquired eagerly.

“Who is he?” The editor’s gray-blue eyes sent out little flashes of fire. “He’s the most egotistical, thick-headed, muddle-brained property owner in this community.”

“Not the man who was just here?”

“Yes, that was John Burmaster.”

“Then he lives in Hobostein?”

“He does not,” said the editor with emphasis. “It’s bad enough having him seven miles away. You don’t mean to tell me you haven’t seen Sleepy Hollow estate?”

Penny shook her head. She explained that as strangers to the town, she and Louise had made no trips or inquiries.

“Sleepy Hollow is quite a show place,” the editor went on grudgingly. “Old Burmaster built it about a year ago. Imported an architect and workmen from the city. The house has a long bridge leading up to it, and is supposed to be like the Sleepy Hollow of legend. Only the legend kinda backfired.”

“You’re speaking about the Headless Horseman?” Penny leaned forward in her chair.

“When Burmaster built his house, the old skinflint didn’t calculate on getting a haunt to go with it,” the editor chuckled. “Served him right for being so muleish.”

“But what is the story of the Headless Horseman?” Penny asked. “Has Mr. Burmaster actually offered a five hundred dollar reward for its capture?”

“He’d give double the amount to get that Horseman off his neck!” chuckled the editor. “But folks up Delta way aren’t so dumb. The reward never will be collected.”

“Is Delta the name of a town?”

“Yes, it’s up the valley a piece,” explained Mr. Schultz. “You don’t seem very familiar with our layout here.”

“No, my friend and I come from Riverview.”

“Well, you see, it’s like this.” The editor drew a crude map for the girls. “Sleepy Hollow estate is situated in a sort of ‘V’ shaped valley. Just below it is the little town of Delta, and on below that, a hamlet called Raven. We’re at the foot of the valley, so to speak. Huntley Lake and the dam are just above Sleepy Hollow estate.”

“And is there really danger that the dam will give way?”

“If you want my opinion, read the Hobostein Weekly,” answered the editor. “The dam won’t wash out tomorrow or the next day, but if these rains keep on, the whole valley’s in danger. But try to pound any sense into Burmaster’s thick head!”

“You started to tell me about the Headless Horseman,” Penny reminded him.

“Did I now?” smiled the editor. “Don’t recollect it myself. Fact is, Burmaster’s ghost troubles don’t interest me one whit.”

“But we’ve come all the way from Riverview just to find out about the Headless Horseman.”

“Calculate on earning that reward?” The editor’s eyes twinkled.

“Perhaps.”

“Then you don’t want to waste time trying to get second-hand information. Burmaster’s the man for you to see. Talk to him.”

“Well—”

“No, you talk to Burmaster,” the editor said with finality. “Only don’t tell him I sent you.”

“But how will we find the man?” Penny was rather dismayed to have the interview end before it was well launched.

“Oh, his car is parked down the street,” the editor answered carelessly. “Everyone in town knows Burmaster. I’d talk to you longer only I’m so busy this afternoon. Burmaster is the one to tell you his own troubles.”

Thus dismissed, the girls could do nothing but thank the editor and leave the newspaper building. Dubiously they looked up and down the street. The fine new car they had noticed a little while earlier no longer was parked at the curb. Nor was there any sign of the man who had just left the newspaper office.

“All we can do is inquire for him,” said Penny.

At a grocery store farther down the street they paused to ask if Mr. Burmaster had been seen. The store keeper finished grinding a pound of coffee for a customer and then answered Penny’s question.

“Mr. Burmaster?” he repeated. “Why, yes, he was in town, but he pulled out about five minutes ago.”

“Then we’ve just missed him!” Penny exclaimed.

“Burmaster’s on his way to Sleepy Hollow by this time,” the store keeper agreed. “You might catch him there.”

“But how can we get to Sleepy Hollow?”

“Well, there’s a train. Only runs once a day though. And it went through about half an hour ago.”

“That was the train we came in on. Isn’t there a car one can hire?”

“Don’t know of any. Clem Williams has some good horses though. He keeps the livery stable down the street.”

Their faces very long, the girls picked up their overnight bags and went outside again.

“I knew this trip would be a wash-out,” said Louise disconsolately. “Here we are, stuck high and dry until our train comes in tomorrow.”

“But why give up so easily?”

“We’re licked, that’s why. We’ve missed Mr. Burmaster and we can’t go to Sleepy Hollow after him.”

Penny gazed thoughtfully down the street at Clem Williams’ livery stable.

“Why can’t we go to Sleepy Hollow?” she demanded. “Let’s rent horses.”

Louise waxed sarcastic. “To be sure. We can canter along balancing these overnight bags on the pommel of our saddles!”

“We’ll have to leave our luggage behind,” Penny planned briskly. “The most essential things we can wrap up in knapsacks.”

“But I’m not a good rider,” Louise complained. “The last time we rode a mile I couldn’t walk for a week.”

“Seven miles isn’t so far.”

“Seven miles!” Louise gasped. “Why, it’s slaughter.”

“Oh, you’ll last,” chuckled Penny confidently. “I’ll see to that.”