“If he’s investigating it,” Judy interrupted, “I don’t think we should. I’ve dashed off after him before—to my sorrow. Once a bullet barely missed me, and he made me promise not to run headlong into danger again. Besides, the kids are coming here today.”
“What kids?” Honey asked.
“You remember them,” Judy said. “They used to call themselves the Junior FBI. They meet here every Saturday. Peter suggested that they change their name. He’s afraid they’ll get themselves involved in something dangerous. I think he’s wrong, though. The club doesn’t get them into trouble. It keeps them out of it. Their latest project is a magic show.”
“Magic! That’s it!” exclaimed Honey.
“What do you mean?” asked Judy.
“The voice from the tree. It must have been one of their tricks.”
“I doubt it,” Horace objected. “I heard the talking trees before some of those kids were born. Grandpa used to call it a freak of nature. I always meant to investigate it, but never got around to it. Maybe it’s an echo thrown back from the barn.”
“We could find out easily enough by standing opposite the barn and calling,” Judy suggested eagerly.
“Wouldn’t we feel a little foolish, Judy?” asked Honey, holding back a little.
“I wouldn’t,” Judy declared. “Come on! I’d like to try it.”