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gathered up the food wrappers and empty cups, and
stuffed them into the saddlebag on Al- Adeen .
    “We
used up his whole day’s quota of conversation and we didn’t get one word about
the Galloping Ghost,” Trixie muttered to Honey on their way back to their own
horses.
    “But
we found out about the Burke mystery. You were curious about it yesterday,”
Honey pointed out.
    “That
was yesterday,” Trixie said, “before I knew there was a phenomenon to be curious about.”
    Honey
giggled at Trixie’s careful use of the proper word. “Day before yesterday, all you cared
about was a silly old ghost,” she teased.
    “ Yeah, and way back then you thought Pat Murrow would look
like a horse,” Trixie countered.
    Honey
looked at Pat and sighed. Happily, her original guess had been incorrect. “It’s
still early in the day, Trixie. We’ll find out about the Galloping Ghost
somehow.”
    As
they completed their ride around the lit-tie lake, Trixie found it hard to
believe that such a beautiful place could be haunted.
    The
sounds of construction shattered the calm once again as they neared Burke Landing on their way home. I wish the ghost would haunt that place, to make it all stop, Trixie thought. Now Trixie could tell that the development was going to be
huge. Once this place is built,
there will be so many people and so much traffic. It’ll be hard to ride this
road without being hit by a car. Having a horse killed would be worse than
having its training set back a few months. Still, it wasn’t her
decision to make, and she was glad of that.
    As
the three young people came cantering into the ranch yard, they saw Regan and
Bill Murrow working with the young filly, while Gus watched. Pat dismounted and
handed the reins of his horse to the old man. “Would you show the girls where
the tack goes?” he asked as he went to join the two trainers.
    Gus
nodded and grinned at Pat, then turned to grin at the girls. “Was your ride
nice?” he asked.
    “Very
nice,” Honey replied. “You have beautiful country around here.”
    Gus
nodded happily. “You betcha ,” he said.
    “Come
on, then.” He turned and led Pat’s horse into the stable, and the girls
followed. Once inside, he took care of Al- Adeen and
gave Trixie and Honey the grooming tools they needed from a cabinet in the tack
room.
    “Have
you always worked with horses?” Honey asked politely.
    “Oh, ja ,” Gus said. “My pa, he
farmed with horses. Never owned a tractor, though. I
would have been a farmer, too, but the Depression came and we lost the farm.
Then young Bill’s pa, he gave me work. I’ve been here ever since.”
    “I
think I saw you riding your horse the night we arrived,” Trixie said.
    “Could
be, could be,” Gus acknowledged. “I like a ride after supper. It settles my
stomach.”
    “It
gave me quite a turn,” Trixie said. “Back home, we don’t see many people riding
around on horses at nightfall.”
    “You
were scared, eh?” Gus asked. He laughed noiselessly, his shoulders moving up
and down. “I bet you thought I was the Galloping Ghost!”
    Trixie
stopped brushing her horse in midstroke . “Do you know
about the Galloping Ghost?” she asked.
    “Oh,
sure,” Gus said. “Everybody around here does.” He shook his head. “ ‘The Galloping Ghost’ is sure some fancy name for old
Gunnar Bjorkland !”
    Trixie
gave Honey a wide-eyed look. They were on the verge of getting the whole story.
Nobody could do a better job of drawing it out than Honey could.
    “Gunnar
Be- york -land,” Honey repeated haltingly. “Was that
the Galloping Ghost’s real name?”
    “ Bjorkland , ja ,” Gus said. “In
Norwegian, we say the j like y. Over here, some
people change their names to make them easier. Take my name—Gustav.” The old
man pronounced it “Goo- stahf .”
    “But
that’s hard for folks, so I just go by ‘Gus.’ Gunnar Bjorkland never changed his name, though. Too lazy even for that, I guess.” Gus laughed
his