CHAPTER 10 _LOCKED IN THE CABIN_
Penny hesitated, and as the call was repeated, went slowly back towardthe cabin. She could see no one.
"Up here!" shouted the voice.
Glancing toward the second story windows, Penny saw a girl standingthere, her face pressed to the pane.
"Peter Jasko's granddaughter!" thought Penny. "And she must have seen medecorating the place with ski tracks."
However, the other girl was only concerned with her own predicament. Shesmiled and motioned for Penny to come directly under the window.
"Can you help me get out of here?" she called down.
"You're not locked in?" inquired Penny in astonishment.
"I certainly am! My grandfather did it. He fastened the door of theloft."
"How long have you been there?"
"Oh, not very long," the girl answered impatiently, "but I'm sick of it!Will you help me out of here?"
"How?"
"Grandfather always hides the key to the outside door in the woodshed. Itshould be hanging on a nail by the window."
Penny hardly knew what to do. It was one thing to annoy Peter Jasko bymaking a few ski tracks in his yard, but quite another to antagonize himin more serious ways. For all she could tell, he might have locked thegirl in the cabin as a punishment for some wrongdoing.
"Does your grandfather often leave you like this?" she asked dubiously.
"Always when there's snow on the ground," came the surprising answer."Oh, please let me out of this hateful place! Don't be such agoody-good!"
To be accused of being a "goody-good" was a novel experience for Penny.But instead of taking offense she laughed and started toward thewoodshed.
"On a nail by the window!" the girl shouted after her. "If it isn't therelook on the shelf by the door."
Penny found the key and came back. Taking off her cumbersome skis, sheunlocked the front door and stepped inside the cabin. The room was rathercold for the fire had nearly gone out. Despite a bareness of furniture,the place had a comfortable appearance. Snowshoes decorated the wallsalong with a deer head and an out-dated calendar. There was a cook stove,a homemade table, chairs, and a cot.
"Do hurry up!" called the impatient voice from above. "Climb the steps."
At the far end of the room a rickety, crudely constructed ladder ascendedto a rectangular trap door in the ceiling. Mounting it, Pennyinvestigated the fastening, a stout plug of wood. She turned it andpushed up the heavy door. Instantly, it was seized from above and pulledout of the way.
Head and shoulders through the opening, Penny glanced about curiously.The room under the roof certainly did not look like a prison cell. It wassnug and warm, with curtains at the windows and books lining the wallshelves. The floor was covered with a bright colored rag rug. There was acomfortable looking bed, a rocker and even a dressing table.
"Thanks for letting me out."
Penny turned to gaze at the girl who stood directly behind her. She wasnot very pretty, for her nose was far too blunt and her teeth a trifleuneven. One could see a faint resemblance to Peter Jasko.
"You're welcome, I guess," replied Penny, but with no conviction. "I hopeyour grandfather won't be too angry."
"Oh, he won't know about it," the girl answered carelessly. "I see youknow who I am--Sara Jasko."
"My name is Penny Parker."
"I guessed the Penny part. I saw you trying to write it in the snow. Youdon't believe in signs either, do you?"
"I didn't have any right to trespass."
"Oh, don't worry about that. Grandfather is an old fuss-budget. But deepdown inside he's rather nice."
"Why did he lock you up here?"
"It's a long story," sighed Sara. "I'll tell you about it later. Come on,let's get out of here."
Penny backed down the ladder. The amazing granddaughter of Peter Jaskofollowed, taking the steps as nimbly as a monkey.
Going to a closet, Sara pulled out a wind-breaker, woolen cap, and astub-toed pair of high leather shoes which she began to lace up.
"You're not aiming to run away?" Penny asked uneasily.
"Only for an hour or so. This snow is too beautiful to waste. But you'llhave to help me get back to my prison."
"I don't know what this is all about. Suppose you tell me, Sara."
"Oh, Grandfather is funny," replied the girl, digging in the closet againfor her woolen gloves. "He doesn't trust me out of his sight when there'ssnow on the ground. Today he had to go up the mountain to get a load ofwood so he locked me in."
"What has snow to do with it?"
"Why, everything! You must have heard about Grandfather. He hatesskiing."
"Oh, and you like to ski," said Penny, "is that it?"
"I adore it! My father, Bret Jasko, was a champion." Sara's animated facesuddenly became sober. "He was killed on this very mountain. Grandfathernever recovered from the shock."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," murmured Penny sympathetically.
"It happened ten years ago while my father was skiing. Ever since thenGrandfather has had an almost fanatical hatred of the hotel people. Andhe is deathly afraid I'll get hurt in some way. He forbids me to ski evenon the easy slopes."
"But you do it anyway?"
"Of course. I slip away whenever I can," Sara admitted cheerfully."Skiing is in my blood. I couldn't give it up."
"And you don't mind deceiving your grandfather?"
"You don't understand. There's no reasoning with him. Each year he gets alittle more set in his ways. He knows that I slip away to ski, and that'swhy he locks me up. Otherwise, Grandfather is a dear. He's taken care ofme since my father died."
Sara wriggled into her awkward-fitting coat, wrapped a red scarf abouther throat and started for the door.
"Coming, Penny?"
"I haven't promised yet that I will help you get back into yourcubby-hole."
"But you will," said Sara confidently.
"I suppose so," sighed Penny. "Nevertheless, I don't particularly likethis."
They stepped out of the cabin into the blinding sunlight. The storm hadstopped, but the wind blew a gust of snow from the roof into their faces.
"My skis are hidden in the woods," said Sara. "We'll walk along the fenceso my footprints won't be so noticeable."
"The place is pretty well marked up now," Penny observed dryly. "Yourgrandfather would have to be blind not to see them."
"Yes, but they're your tracks, not mine," grinned Sara. "Besides, thisstrong wind is starting to drift the snow."
They followed the barbed wire fence to the woods. Sara went straight toan old log and from its hollow interior drew out a pair of hickoryjumping skis.
"Let's walk up to Mrs. Downey's lodge," she proposed. "Her chute is adandy, but most of the guests are afraid to use it."
"I haven't tried it myself," admitted Penny. "It looks higher than Pike'sPeak."
"Oh, you have plenty of nerve," returned Sara carelessly. "I saw you takeGrandfather's barbed wire entanglements."
"That was a matter of necessity."
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," laughed Sara, linking arms with Pennyand pulling her along at a fast pace. "I'll teach you a few tricks."
They climbed the slope steadily until forced to pause for a moment tocatch their breath.
"Mrs. Downey isn't using the bob-sled run this year, is she?" Sarainquired curiously.
"I didn't know anything about it."
"She has a fine one on her property, but it's out of sight from thelodge. I guess there haven't been enough guests this season to make itworth while. Too bad. Bob-sled racing is even more fun than skiing."
Coming within view of the Downey lodge, Penny observed that a few of themore hardy guests had taken advantage of the lull in the storm, and wereout on the slopes, falling, picking themselves up, falling again.
"I have to run into the house a minute," Penny excused herself. "I'll beright back."
> She found Mrs. Downey in the kitchen and reported to her that she hadbeen unable to purchase papers in the village.
"The plane came in, didn't it?"
"Yes, but for some reason the papers weren't put on."
"I wonder if the Fergus hotel managed to get any?"
"I don't see how they could."
"It's happened before," declared Mrs. Downey.
"Time after time we miss our papers, and then I learn later that theFergus hotel guests had them. I don't understand it, Penny."
"Shall I tell Mr. Glasser?"
"I'll do it," sighed Mrs. Downey. "He's going to be more irritated thanever now."
Penny went outside to find Sara waiting impatiently for her. The girl hadstrapped on her skis, and was using two sharp-pointed sticks for poles.
"Ready to try the jump, Penny?"
"No, but I'll watch you."
"There's nothing to it, Penny," encouraged Sara as they climbed side byside. "Just keep relaxed and be sure to have your skis pointing upwardwhile you're in the air."
As it became evident that the girls intended to try the chute, a littlecrowd of spectators gathered on the slope below to watch.
"I'll go first," said Sara, "and after I've landed, you come after me."
"I'll think it over," shivered Penny.
"Don't think too long, or you'll never try it. Just start."
Sara bent to examine her bindings. Then in a graceful crouch she shotdown the hill and with a lifting of her arms soared over the take-off.She made a perfectly poised figure in mid-air and an effortless landingon the slope below, finishing off with a christiana turn.
"She's _good_!" thought Penny. "I'll try it, too, even if they carry meoff on a stretcher!"
In a wave of enthusiasm she pushed off, keeping her arms behind her. Asthe edge of the chute loomed up, she swung them forward and sprang intothe air. But something went wrong. In an instant she was off balance, herarms swinging wildly in a futile attempt to straighten her body intoposition.
The gully appeared to be miles below her. Panic surged over Penny and hermuscles became rigid. She was going to take a hard fall.
"Relax! Relax!" screamed a shrill voice.
With a supreme effort Penny drew back one ski and bent her knees. Shefelt a hard jar, and in amazement realized that she had landed on herfeet. Her elation was short lived, for the next instant she collapsed andwent sliding on down the slope.
Sara ran to help her up.
"Hurt?"
"Not a bit," laughed Penny. "What a spectacle I must have made!"
"Your jump wasn't half bad. Next time you'll do much better."
"I'll never make one as good as yours," Penny said enviously. SeeingFrancine standing near, she turned to the reporter and exclaimed: "Didyou watch Sara's jump? Wasn't it magnificent?"
"You're both lucky you weren't injured." Francine walked over to the twogirls. She stared at Sara's odd looking costume. "You're not a guesthere?" she inquired.
"No," answered Sara.
"Nor at the Fergus hotel?"
"I live a ways down the mountain."
Francine regarded her coldly. "You're the Jasko girl, aren't you, whosegrandfather will not allow skiers on his property?"
"Yes, but--"
"Since you Jaskos are so sign conscious I should think you might obeythem yourself! Take a glance at that one over on the tree. Unless myeyesight is failing it reads: 'Only guests of the hotel may use theseslopes.'"