The Mystery on Cobbett's Island

then that Trixie noticed an ugly swelling on Jim’s forehead and that her own knees and hands were scraped raw where she had fallen on them.
    “A fine pair we’ll make going back to Sleepyside!” she said, managing a smile.
    Honey and Di, the color drained from their tense faces, had felt completely helpless to do anything while the fight was going on. Now they insisted that Trixie and Jim get out of the dust-filled stable and into the fresh air. Trixie waited only long enough to pick up the money and the tin box before going outside.
    “It does feel good to lie down,” Jim conceded as he flung himself down on the grass. “How about you, Trixie? Are you okay?” he asked solicitously as she sat down near him and the others crowded around.
    “Oh, sure. This isn’t half as bad as the bumps I used to get when Honey was teaching me to ride,” she chuckled, “but I do wish Abe would come. That character in there worries me.”
    “Don’t worry about him. He’s trussed up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey,” Mart said, glancing into the barn to make sure. He saw that all of Slim’s bravado was gone, the fight in him expended, and he lay quietly, just looking up toward the loft as if to ask himself how he’d managed to land in this situation.
    “You know, I can’t help feeling sorry for him,” Trixie said as she toyed with a blade of grass. “He’s had two strikes against him from the start, because he’s not very bright, you know.”
    “He sure isn’t,” Brian agreed, “but with the right kind of training, he might have amounted to something. Don’t you think so, Jim?”
    “He’s the sort I’d like to help in my school someday, but you should get them when they’re young, before the wrong habits get set,” Jim commented.
    “What’ll happen to him now? I wonder,” mused Di, her eyes filling with pity. “He seems so—”
    Her question was interrupted by the scream of a siren, and in a moment they saw the police car coming up the back road. “And here comes Peter with some man,” cried Trixie, looking toward the house.
    “What’s this all about?” Abe asked as he came running up to them.
    “Trixie always gets her man,” Jim volunteered with a smile, “only this time it’s a boy. Look in the stable.” And they followed Abe inside.
    He took one look at Slim, whistled softly, and pushed his cap to the back of his head. “Slim Novarski, isn’t it?” he asked as he knelt down beside the boy.
    “Yeah,” Slim grunted. “So what?”
    “The Greenpoint police are going to be very glad to see you, my friend,” Abe said. “They’ve been looking for you for a week or more. You’re suspected of stealing a powerboat, among other things. Am I right?”
    “I don’t know nothin’ about no powerboat,” Slim muttered, giving Abe a nasty look.
    “Well, he knows plenty about the buoy lights,” Trixie said, her eyes snapping, “and ask him if he’s got a permit to carry a gun. I'll just bet he stole that, too.”
    “A gun!” Abe exclaimed. “Are you serious? Where is it?”
    “Brian threw it out the back window after I—” Trixie hesitated.
    “After she outsmarted Slim and got the gun away from him,” Jim added proudly.
    Peter, who had meanwhile come up to the edge of the circle, stepped forward and said, “Maybe we’d better begin at the beginning of this story. This is my dad, and he doesn’t know anything about Slim or the letter. He just got home from Vermont this morning.”
    Mr. Kimball was a tall, well-built man with graying hair and an easy manner. His friendly remarks as he was being introduced made everyone feel a little more relaxed. Peter then suggested that Trixie tell about their adventure. She felt the color rising in her cheeks, but, encouraged by a smile from Jim, she recounted in detail the discovery of the letter and the subsequent search for the money. She avoided mentioning the fact that they had consulted Abe about it in the beginning.
    No need to embarrass him , she thought, but when she was finished, Abe turned to Mr. Kimball and said, “If this had ended with somebody getting badly hurt, I’d have only myself to blame, sir. You see, Peter told me about the letter right after they found it, but I didn’t take it seriously. How wrong can you be?” he added ruefully, shaking his head.
    “Well, we won’t worry about that now,” Mr. Kimball assured him, “but I think we’d better do something about Slim. What’s the procedure,