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toward Frank. “So, you think we’ll be able to get out of town today?”
    â€œHard to tell,” Frank said. “We’ll have to try going back to the trail again, and hope Sheriff Brickfield isn’t there.”
    Frank finally pulled himself up from the table, his stomach full. “Great meal, Mrs. Hibley, but we have to get going.”
    â€œOh,” Mrs. Hibley said. “Won’t you stay for raspberry tart?”
    â€œI’ll stay,” Chet volunteered.
    â€œNo, you won’t,” Joe said. “But, boy, the tart sure smells good.”
    Frank grabbed Chet around the shoulders. “Come on, Chet. We have to go take care of Biff.”
    Chet struggled to break loose from Frank’s grip. “Hey, I was just being polite.”
    â€œReal polite,” Joe said. “If Mrs. Hibley offered you another course of sausages and home fries, you’d be here the rest of the morning.”
    â€œThere’s more where that came from,” Mrs. Hibley said cheerfully.
    â€œThat’s okay, ma’am,” Frank said. We’ve got to be on our way.”
    â€œHey, I was just...” Chet shut up abruptly when Joe tugged on his shoulder.
    â€œReally, that was a great meal,” Joe said.
    â€œThe best,” Phil agreed.
    Joe gave Mrs. Hibley the money for their night’s stay, promising that they’d be back for their bags soon. The four teenagers walked quickly out of the dining room and through the front door. Main Street glowed brightly in the morning sunlight. Rhonda’s door was unlocked, so they went in. Biff and Rhonda were engaged in a heated conversation.
    â€œSo, how’s it going?” Frank asked.
    â€œJust great,” Biff said. “It was almost worth getting my leg banged up to talk to Rhonda.”
    â€œBiff’s doing fine,” Rhonda added. “Oh, Sheriff Brickfield stopped by and said the path and roads are still too dangerous to travel, so it looks like you’ll be here a little longer.”
    â€œOh, great,” Joe moaned. “It’s like everything’s conspiring to keep us here.”
    â€œAnd that means Mrs. Hibley can keep feeding us,” Chet said happily.
    â€œAt least two people are happy in this town,” Frank said. “Biff and Chet.”
    â€œWell, the rest of us have to find something to keep busy,” Joe said. “What do you suppose people do for fun around here?”
    â€œNot much,” Rhonda said. “Visit neighbors, watch TV.”
    â€œHey, we could go visit that farmer guy, McSavage,” Chet suggested. “He invited us to see his place.”
    â€œDoesn’t sound too exciting to me,” Joe said.
    â€œYou never know,” Frank said. “Maybe we should have a look around up there.”
    Frank, Joe, Chet, and Phil left Rhonda’s house and headed up the hill to the McSavage mansion. As they got closer, it appeared even larger than they had thought, but they could see it wasn’t in very good repair. The paint was badly chipped, and a shutter was hanging partially off its hinges. The grass in the front yard burst up in patches, as though much of it hadbeen allowed to die from lack of water while the rest hadn’t been cut in years.
    Bill McSavage had apparently seen them coming up the hill, because he came bounding out the front door with a large grin on his face. “Hello, boys,” he declared. “I’ve been looking forward to showing you around the place.”
    â€œNice farm,” Phil said. “What do you grow?”
    â€œRight now,” McSavage said, “mostly grasses for hay. And we’ve got some cows for milk. Oh, and we’ve got the most wonderful horse.”
    â€œCool,” Chet said. “I really like horses. Can we have a look at him?”
    â€œSure,” McSavage said. “Formby is real friendly. He’ll just love you boys.”
    â€œWould you mind if I hung around