The Phantom of Pine Hill

  Bess and George followed her suggestion. They quickly freshened up, took off their slacks, and put on dresses. A few minutes later they were on their way to chapel.

  Presently Mrs. Holman came upstairs and Nancy said to her, “Early tomorrow morning I’m going to that Indian village shown on the map. I just can’t wait to do a little investigating there.” She was sorry that the boys would have to study the next day and could not accompany them.

  The following morning Nancy felt fully recovered. As soon as she and her friends could get away after breakfast, they started for the Indian village, taking digging tools with them. They walked to the cove, then followed the direction indicated on the ancient map. Finally they came to a clearing which Nancy figured had once been the site of a thriving community. Here and there on the landscape were large weed-covered humps.

  “What were they for?” Bess asked.

  “It’s my guess,” Nancy said, “that those were the clay ovens where the Indians baked their bread. Now the weeds have taken over.”

  After hunting around awhile, the girls picked up a few arrowheads, but outside of this evidence there was nothing to indicate there had ever been a tribal settlement at this spot.

  “We came to find a treasure and maybe a lost wedding dress,” Bess reminded the others. “I’m sure we’re never going to in this place.”

  The other girls were not so sure. George said, “If you were an Indian, where would you hide a treasure?”

  Nancy thought a few moments, then answered, “In a sacred place where other Indians would be too superstitious to touch it.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Bess agreed. “I’ve read that the sacred building or ground in an Indian village was sometimes right in the center.”

  “That’s true,” said Nancy. She walked around and finally picked a spot which might have been the center of the village. “Let’s start digging here.”

  As they picked up their tools, the girls became aware of a young man walking toward them. He was Fred Jenkins.

  “So you’re digging for Indian relics, eh?” he asked. “I have a message for you, Miss Nancy,” he said.

  “For me? From whom?” she asked.

  “Your father. He called up and I wrote it out. I thought I’d better get it to you right away.” He handed a small sheet of paper to Nancy.

  Written on it was a badly spelled message. Nancy caught her breath as she read:

  “I need you at home at once. Hannah Green is very ill.”

  CHAPTER XII

  A Frightening Message

  “WHEN did this message come?” Nancy asked Fred Jenkins.

  He thought a moment, then answered, “’Bout half an hour or so ago. I was cleaning the first floor and answered the phone—Mrs. Holman was busy upstairs and didn’t hear it. Your father said he wanted you to get the message right away, so I asked her where you were. She told me where this place was and I figured I’d come and tell you!”

  “That was very kind of you,” said Nancy. “Girls, it’s too bad to leave here, but you know how I feel about Hannah. We’ll have to go right home.”

  Fred was staring at Nancy intently. “I’m terrible sorry I brought you bad news. I hope the lady will get well soon.”

  As the girls gathered up their tools, Fred added, “I’ll miss seeing you all around. Kind of got used to you.”

  As Nancy and her friends started toward the cove Fred walked ahead of them. In a few minutes he had vanished among the trees.

  “I wonder what happened to Mrs. Gruen,” said Bess. “She seemed to be in the best of health when we left home.”

  “Perhaps it was an accident,” George ventured.

  Nancy’s expression was grim and she did not comment until they had reached the garden in back of the house.

  “As soon as we get inside, I’m going to phone River Heights. If something did happen to Hannah, I want to know what it is.”

  Bess looked at Nancy, puzzled. “If—?”

  Nancy nodded. “This whole thing could be a hoax.”

  “But why?” Bess queried.

  “To get rid of us. The phantom could have made that phone call so we’d leave Pine Hill.”

  “In other words,” George spoke up, “you’re learning a little too much here to please this mysterious thief.”

  “Possibly,” Nancy answered. “But there could be another reason for a fake phone call.”

  “What’s that?” Bess asked.

  Nancy said that if the phantom was hunting for the same thing the girls were—the gold coins and the Rorick wedding gifts—then he might have wanted to find out where the girls were sleuthing at the moment. Knowing the setup of the Drew family, he had invented the story as an excuse for Fred to get information from Mrs. Holman.

  “And the caller may have followed Fred?” George asked.

  “Yes.”

  By this time the girls had reached the back door. Mrs. Holman admitted them. At once she expressed her sympathy over what had happened and said she hoped Mrs. Gruen’s illness was not serious.

  “I’m going to find out at once,” said Nancy, and went to the hall telephone.

  She dialed the number of her home, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for someone to answer. After several rings Hannah Gruen’s voice came over the wire, clear and strong.

  “Hannah!” cried Nancy. “Are you all right?”

  The Drews’ housekeeper chuckled. “I never felt better in my life. Why the concern, Nancy?”

  The young sleuth stammered as she told the whole story.

  “Well, there’s not one word of truth in it,” Mrs. Gruen declared. “And I can’t see why anyone would have made up such a wild tale.”

  When Nancy told her the theories she had, Mrs. Gruen sighed. “I only hope you’re in no danger. dear,” she said worriedly. “Perhaps you ought to take the hint and come home.”

  “Oh, I can’t do that!” Nancy replied. “No phantom is going to give me orders!”

  Mrs. Gruen laughed heartily. “If the whole matter weren’t serious, Nancy,” she said, “that would be an utterly ridiculous statement.”

  Suddenly Nancy realized how strange her remark must have sounded. She, too, laughed but said, “And if he’s hiding somewhere around and can hear what I’m saying, I hope he knows I mean every word of it!”

  Nancy learned from Hannah Gruen that Mr. Drew was out of town, but that he had phoned home to learn where Nancy was and what she was doing.

  “When will you be home?” Hannah asked.

  “Not for a few more days,” Nancy told her. “Mr. Rorick wants us to stay until we solve the mystery.”

  Mrs. Gruen said she hoped it would not take much longer. “It’s mighty lonesome around here without you.”

  “I miss you, too,” Nancy told her. Then she described Mrs. Holman and ended by saying, “She makes us feel quite at home.”

  After Nancy had hung up, Mrs. Holman complained that Fred had not yet returned. “That’s just the way he is—so unreliable. He went right off to find you and left all the cleaning materials in the middle of the living-room floor!”

  The girls laughed and followed Mrs. Holman around from place to place to finish Fred’s work. By the time the house was tidy, it was noon and they all moved into the kitchen. As they prepared sandwiches and salad for lunch, they talked about the fake phone message.

  Mrs. Holman, now that her worry was over, became angry. “I think hoaxes are the lowest form of humor. I’d like to find out who played that trick.”

  George said, “When we solve the mystery, I’m sure we’ll find out.”

  As soon as the group had finished eating, Nancy said she would like to go back to the site of the Indian village. The other girls agreed to go with her.

  Once more the three got their digging tools and set off, taking the same route they had followed on their previous trip.

  “When we come back, let’s try a shortcut,” George proposed. “This spade is kind of heavy.”

  “Go
od idea,” Nancy agreed. “Girls, I’ve just had a hunch that we’re going to find someone else has been digging at the village.”

  “You mean since we’ve been there?” George asked.

  “Yes, I do. That was the reason for the fake phone call.”

  This thought spurred the other girls on. As they neared the clearing, Nancy suggested that they go forward cautiously.

  “If we do find someone digging,” she said, “and can capture him, we may have the phantom right in our grasp!”

  “Oh, my goodness!” said Bess. “I don’t like capturing criminals!”

  George looked disdainful. “What kind of sleuth are you, anyway?”

  Bess became silent and she stayed at the rear of the trio, which now proceeded single file. At the edge of the clearing Nancy held up her hand and put a finger to her lips. She hid behind a tree and motioned the other girls to do so.

  “Look!” she whispered.

  In the center of the Indian village were half a dozen deep holes. Nancy’s hunch had been right!

  Suddenly Bess and George realized that her finger was not pointing at the freshly dug pits, but at the figure of a man disappearing among the trees across from them. He was carrying a spade and running as fast as he could.

  “Let’s get him!” Nancy urged.

  The three girls dropped their tools and took off after the man. He had a head start and ran a zigzag course which put him out of their sight most of the time. They could not see his face, but he was a rather slight man of medium height and had dark thinning hair. Could he be the one whose footprints Nancy had followed in the woods?

  After a while he failed to reappear, but the girls kept running in the direction where they had last seen him. This brought them to the shore of the cove. They looked down the embankment. He was not in sight, but suddenly Bess exclaimed, “There goes a man in a rowboat! Isn’t he the one?”

  The man was rowing hard but in reverse motion, so that his back was toward the girls—apparently to avoid identification.

  “I don’t see any name or number on the boat,” said Nancy. “Do you?”

  Neither Bess nor George did. But they felt sure that the way the man was acting proved him to be guilty of something. Was he the one who had phoned the fake message to the Rorick house?”

  Nancy heaved a sigh. “If he did find the treasure—which I doubt—we know he didn’t carry it with him, unless it was so small he slipped it into a pocket.”

  George smiled. “Maybe we’ll come across a chest of gold that he dropped!”

  The girls hurried back to the spot where they had left their digging tools, picked them up, and walked into the Indian village. They checked the holes made by the mysterious digger and found them empty. Then the young sleuths stopped talking and went to work with a will.

  Presently George called out that she had found an arrowhead. “This place is probably full of them.”

  Nancy was more fortunate. About ten minutes later she unearthed a small pottery idol. It was a bit damaged but recognizable as an Indian god.

  She showed it to the others, saying, “I don’t know whether I can keep this or not. One thing I never did find out was, who owns this property.”

  “I did,” said George. “The town of Emerson.”

  “Then anything we dig up will be turned over to the authorities,” said Nancy. “That makes it simple.”

  The digging went on. Bess wandered off some distance to work. After a time Nancy noticed her and was about to call when suddenly Bess gave a cry. It sounded more like fright than surprise.

  CHAPTER XIII

  The Cave Clue

  NANCY and George hurried over to Bess. She was standing in a pit, trembling like a leaf. They were about to ask her what the trouble was when they looked near her feet.

  She had unearthed a human skull!

  “Hypers!” George exclaimed. “You’ve dug up a grave!”

  “A very old one, I’d say,” Nancy put in.

  Bess scrambled up out of the pit, but still cringed at the sight of the blankly staring skull. Nancy and George, however, were fascinated.

  “I wonder if it’s an Indian’s skull or someone who died more recently,” Nancy mused. “Let’s dig some more and see if there’s a body.”

  “If you don’t mind,” said Bess, “I’ll go dig somewhere else for the treasure from the Lucy Belle.”

  The other girls smiled but told her to go ahead. Using their digging tools very carefully, they dug deeper into the pit and in a little while disinterred a whole skeleton.

  “It was an Indian all right,” said Nancy, as she brushed away dirt from one of its legs, disclosing a beaded anklet.

  George surveyed the scene. “I wonder if this person was buried wearing other jewelry which later was stolen from the body.”

  Nancy said that judging by the depth of the pit, perhaps George’s second guess was right. Whoever had disinterred the Indian the first time had covered it lightly with soil and not bothered to fill in the whole deep grave.

  Nancy said excitedly, “I have a feeling we have unearthed something valuable that a museum might be glad to get. I think we should notify the police and suggest that a professor from the university come and look at this skeleton.”

  “I think you’re right,” George said.

  By this time Bess’s courage had returned, and overcome with curiosity, she appeared at the edge of the pit. She was just in time to hear Nancy’s suggestion.

  “I think your idea is a good one, Nancy. Suppose I go back to the house and phone the police?”

  Nancy and George grinned and told her to go ahead. They knew Bess was eager to get away from the gruesome sight.

  “While she’s gone,” Nancy suggested, “let’s dig around here a little more. Maybe we can find some of the Indian’s possessions.”

  After ten minutes’ work they uncovered a rotting bow and arrow but did not dare pick them up for fear they would disintegrate. Weary now from their digging, the girls sat down to rest and await the police.

  Chief Rankin soon arrived with two professors from the university museum and Bess. The three men stared in astonishment at the girls’ find.

  Professor Greentree was a newcomer to Emerson and an authority on Indian history.

  “I’ve been planning a dig on this site,” he said with a smile. “You girls have beaten me to it.” He went to his car for a special stretcher. Then, very carefully, he and his colleague inserted it under the ancient figure. The fragile skeleton was lightly covered with a piece of gauze and carried to the professor’s station wagon which was parked in a side road beyond the clearing.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” said Bess. “And I hope we don’t meet any more prehistoric men!”

  “Prehistoric?” George repeated. “Why, that skeleton is probably only a couple of hundred years old. Rather handsome, too.”

  George’s cousin ignored the remark. She turned to Nancy. “What do we do now?”

  Nancy reminded the girls they had come to hunt for the long-lost wedding gifts. “Let’s dig a little longer.”

  “I’m getting hungry,” said Bess as a gentle hint that they should give up. But the others, after glancing at their wrist watches, told her it was nowhere near suppertime yet.

  “Promise me we’ll go in half an hour,” she pleaded.

  “Okay,” Nancy agreed. “And instead of digging, why don’t we just search this area for clues?”

  Bess felt better and eagerly joined the search. Weeds were pushed aside, rocks moved out of position.

  Presently Nancy said in a low voice, “Listen! I thought I heard someone.”

  The girls straightened up and looked all around. They could see no one.

  Bess was uneasy. “Probably the phantom is spying on us. It gives me the creeps.”

  “Let’s pretend to leave and keep turning around. Maybe we’ll spot someone,” Nancy suggested.

  The girls picked up their tools and started walking toward the cove. Every few minutes
they would stop and listen. The crackle of twigs behind them left no doubt but that they were being followed. Yet the spy kept well hidden.

  Nancy purposely was taking a zigzag course, not following their usual route. Soon they rounded a low hill and stopped again to listen. There was no sound of pursuit and they walked on. Suddenly they came face to face with a shallow cave.

  The girls peered inside. Its stone walls were blackened with smoke. Chest-high was a ledge, evidently man-made with crude tools.

  “Do you think Indians used this cave?” Bess asked.

  “Here’s your answer,” said George, as she picked up a tiny flint arrowhead from the mouth of the cave. “This is called a bird point and may have been used for hunting birds.”

  Nancy walked around, examining the rough stonework. Above the shelf she noticed an embedded rock that protruded beyond the others. Curious, she tried pulling it out. The stone gave way easily, showing a small niche behind it.

  Looking inside, Nancy saw some colored beads and a piece of ribbon, which she pulled out. The ribbon was black, about an inch wide and very old. On it in tarnished gold letters was the word Belle.

  Nancy showed it to the others, who gasped.

  “A clue!” exclaimed Bess. “This is from the cap of a sailor on the Lucy Belle!”

  “It must be,” said Nancy.

  “But how did it get here?” asked Bess.

  Nancy had two theories. “Either the sailor left it here, or it fell into the hands of an Indian after the sinking or the massacre. Finding the ribbon here,” she added, “lends support to Ben’s story.” She looked thoughtful. “I wish I knew why the friendly Indians turned on the survivors.”

  George, who had been standing guard at the entrance to the cave, suddenly hissed, “The spy! I saw him! He looks like the man in the boat!”

  “Where is he?” Nancy asked quickly.

  Her friend pointed among the trees, but by now the figure had vanished.

  “Did he see you?” Nancy asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  This gave Nancy an idea. “What say we surround the spy and capture him?”

  To this suggestion, Bess gave a flat veto and no amount of persuasion would make her change her mind. Nancy and George did not think they could carry out the plan alone, so it was abandoned.