The Message in the Hollow Oak

“Will do.”

  The young detective hurried to a phone booth alongside the airfield building. She called her home, hoping her father would still be there, but he had already left for his law office.

  Hannah Gruen reported that everything was fine, and Bess and George were eager to join Nancy. “They still want to help you solve the mystery-that is, unless you have already done so.”

  “I’m far from solving it,” Nancy answered. “The case is fascinating, but I’m making very slow progress. By the way, you can write or telegraph me in care of Clem Rucker at Walmsley. He’ll bring the message over to the dig.”

  Nancy had just said this when there was a tap on the glass door of the booth. She turned to see Roscoe standing there.

  As Nancy pushed open the door a crack, the pilot said, “Here comes Mr. Wilson now!”

  CHAPTER VI

  Ear to the Ground

  “OH, Hannah, I must go now,” Nancy said hurriedly. “I’ll call again.”

  She hung up the phone and rushed from the booth. Roscoe motioned her to follow him. A short distance ahead a gray-haired man with a decided limp was approaching the building. He had a full mustache and a chin beard.

  “This can’t be Kit Kadle,” Nancy told herself, and yet there seemed to be something familiar about the man. Roscoe introduced him and Nancy.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Wilson said in an affected voice.

  Nancy found herself staring intently at him. Could he be Kit Kadle in disguise?

  Mr. Wilson smiled. “Aren’t you the girl I saw hacking at a tree near a dig site?”

  “Yes I am,” Nancy replied.

  When she gave no explanation, he asked her why she was doing it. Nancy smiled and replied, “Just examining the oak.” She changed the subject. “Weren’t you staying at the Riverside Hotel in St. Louis?”

  The man shook his head. “Never heard of it,” he said in his affected voice and limped off. Nancy wondered where he was going.

  At that moment Art roared up on his motorcycle. Nancy climbed aboard and they headed for the dig. Art asked her if she had learned anything.

  “Yes and no,” she replied. “I talked with Mr. Wilson. I think he’s Kit Kadle in disguise.”

  “Whether he’s Kit Kadle or Tom Wilson,” said Art, “I advise you to forget him.”

  “Okay,” Nancy agreed. “At least I won’t talk about him.”

  “Don’t get the wrong idea,” Art said. “I want to see you solve the mystery and I’d like to help but right now let’s just enjoy this ride!”

  Nancy made a point of doing just that. She and Art laughed and joked the rest of the way to the dig. They found everyone else at work. The only person not in or around the pit was Julie Anne, whose turn it was to prepare luncheon. She was in the kitchen struggling with an old-fashioned oil-burning stove.

  “This oven just won’t get hot,” she complained. “I’m afraid to turn the burners any higher for fear I might blow up the whole house!”

  As Nancy helped her adjust the stove, she told Julie Anne about Mr. Wilson. Then, after changing her clothes, she went to the barn which was being used as a laboratory.

  Several students were seated at trestle tables brushing dirt from bones and bits of pottery. One girl was patiently putting together pieces of a broken bowl.

  “What can I do to help?” Nancy asked Theresa.

  “Dig,” she answered with a smile. Theresa handed Nancy a child-sized shovel, a teaspoon, a fine sieve, and a camel’s-hair dusting brush.

  “Every inch of ground is important,” the leader said. “You must work very carefully in order not to discard anything worth saving.”

  Nancy promised to be cautious and walked over to the excavation in front of the farmhouse. It seemed much larger than when she had first arrived. Nevertheless she scrambled down the side, thinking, “If they go much deeper, the diggers will need a ladder.”

  After watching the other workers for several minutes, Nancy knelt and gently used the little shovel to place earth in the sieve. Carefully she crumbled it through the fine wire mesh. All that remained in the strainer were several pieces of gravel. After four tries she had about decided there was nothing in that spot, when a tiny piece of white caught her eye. She moved closer to it and this time used her teaspoon. Suddenly she had a chunk of earth on it which contained a piece of bone. Excitedly Nancy put it into the sieve and gently shook the dirt. In a few moments a bone fragment half an inch long lay exposed.

  Gleefully Nancy cried out, “I’ve found something!”

  The other diggers hurried to her side.

  “Do you think it’s a finger bone?” asked Julie Anne, who had joined the group.

  At once Claire Warwick spoke up. “That’s obviously a metatarsal bone, not a phalange.”

  “Not a what?” asked Nancy.

  “Phalange—that’s what we scientists call toe or finger bones,” Claire replied loftily. “But this is neither one. It’s part of the skeleton of the forefoot.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Theresa, stepping forward. “Let’s see that.”

  Nancy handed her the bit of bone.

  “This is a segment of an infant’s finger,” said Theresa. “Better check your anatomy book again, Claire.”

  Two boys, with whom Claire was not popular, burst into laughter. “Better watch out, Claire,” said Bill Munson. “First thing you know you’ll be connecting the ankle bones to the neck bones.”

  The girl flushed angrily, but said nothing.

  Theresa urged Nancy to look for more of the skeleton and she worked diligently the rest of the day, but had no luck.

  Finally it was quitting time. The weary diggers came to the surface, and went to change their clothes. Some started to prepare supper.

  Nancy came outside and dropped to the ground for a brief rest and to think about the secret in the hollow oak. She found herself dozing and turned on her side.

  Suddenly her attention was directed to a sound she detected on the ground. Listening closely, Nancy decided it was a car. Who was coming?

  She sat up and watched the road that led to the dig. No car appeared, so again the young detective put her ear to the ground and listened. Now there was nothing but silence.

  “Someone must have parked,” she thought. The idea made her uneasy. She stood up and went into the house. A few of the boys had gathered in the living room. Nancy told them what she had heard.

  “Maybe I’m silly to be suspicious,” she said, “but I have a hunch that Kit Kadle may come here and attempt some mischief. You know, two people have warned me against him.”

  Art spoke up. “I don’t think you’re silly at all. This house and the dig should be protected as well as you. Okay with you guys if we take turns standing guard here at night?”

  “Great idea,” replied Bob Snell. “You give out the shifts and I’ll be on the job.”

  Nancy smiled at them all. “I’m sorry to be a troublemaker in your group, but—”

  “Stop that!” Art interrupted her. “It will be an exciting change to play detective.” He arranged time shifts and took the first one himself.

  Dinner was announced. The group ate heartily and retired early. Nancy found it hard to sleep. She could not keep her mind off the fact that Kit Kadle might show up at the farmhouse. If so, what would he try to do? She felt sure he was the one who had let the goat into the house. This time his mischief might cause serious harm.

  Finally, after tossing and turning for an hour, she got up, pulled on her clothes, and went outdoors. It was a bright, starry night and objects were clearly distinguishable.

  Almost instantly Art was at her side. He gave a low chuckle. “I thought you were Kit Kadle’s girl friend.”

  Nancy grinned and started to walk around the farmhouse with him. Just then they became aware of light footsteps not far away. The couple hid behind bushes.

  The stealthy footsteps came from the rear of the house. Nancy and Art fully expected someone to enter the front door. Instead they s
aw a man going toward the dig carrying a ladder.

  Moving quietly the couple followed him across the yard and into the field. They saw the figure set the ladder into the excavation.

  Nancy whispered. “It’s time to act!”

  She and Art loped with light steps toward the dig. The man heard them and turned quickly. Nancy recognized him. Art beamed his flashlight on the figure.

  “Tom Wilson!” Nancy whispered.

  They ran toward the man to question him about why he had come there. But before they could reach him, Wilson took off like a frightened deer.

  “He’s not limping!” Nancy observed as she and Art pursued the fleeing figure. “We mustn’t lose him!” she exclaimed.

  Wilson was fleet-footed. He had gone straight up the road, but to the young people’s amazement had outdistanced them. When they lost sight of him, Nancy stopped and put her ear to the ground.

  “He’s still on the road,” she reported, catching up to Art.

  A few seconds later Nancy listened again. They were closer now! She and Art put on extra speed.

  “We’re catching up!” she gasped.

  They raced along the road like marathon runners.

  CHAPTER VII

  River Pirates

  WHILE Nancy and Art were running after the fleeting figure, Todd Smith came to the farmhouse to relieve Art. He looked all around for his friend and finally decided he had better report his absence to Theresa Bancroft.

  As he reached the door, Julie Anne rushed out. She almost bumped into him.

  “Nancy’s not in her bed!” she exclaimed.

  Todd looked puzzled. “I was just coming to report that Art’s missing. I’m sure he wouldn’t have left the farmhouse unguarded. Something strange must have happened, Julie Anne!”

  “They’re probably together,” she said. “I hope they’re not in danger! Let’s look for them.”

  Both Julie Anne and Todd had flashlights. They began walking around the grounds and finally came to the dig.

  “Look!” Julie Anne exclaimed. “Someone put a ladder into the pit.”

  The two flashlights did not reveal anyone in the excavation. The searchers were more puzzled than ever.

  “What could have happened?” Julie Anne asked.

  “Listen! I hear people talking,” Todd said. They moved toward the sound and in a few minutes saw two flashlights bobbing. Their own lights revealed Nancy and Art.

  “What’s going on?” Todd demanded.

  “Did you see the ladder?” Art queried.

  “Yes. Whose is it?”

  Nancy and Art related what they had seen and their chase after Tom Wilson. “We had almost caught up to him when he jumped into a car and rode off,” Nancy explained.

  “But I thought Tom Wilson was lame,” Julie Anne remarked.

  “So did I,” Nancy replied. “That man’s a fake and I’m sure now he’s Kit Kadle in disguise.”

  Todd wondered what the intruder had planned to take out of the dig. No one could hazard a guess, since all the artifacts and fossils uncovered so far had been brought to the laboratory.

  “Have you any idea, Nancy?” Todd asked. She shook her head.

  By this time Art had pulled the ladder from the excavation. It was crudely made of narrow tree branches from an oak.

  Nancy suggested that the whole affair should be reported to the State Police in the morning, and offered to do it for Theresa. She asked Art if he would take her into town directly after breakfast to phone headquarters.

  “Glad to,” he replied. “Good night.”

  Nancy and Julie Anne went back to bed and slept soundly until Theresa rang the rising bell. When the other diggers learned about the night’s adventure, they were alarmed. Theresa tried to calm their fears, but she herself was concerned. Why was her expedition being bothered?

  Nancy was sure she could read the woman’s thoughts. Going up to her, she said quietly, “You weren’t having any trouble here until I arrived. My mystery must be the cause of it. I can’t figure out how the hollow oak I’m looking for and your dig are connected but there must be some tie-in. I’m sure Kit Kadle is trying to discourage my sleuthing. It would be better if I leave. Then no one will be in danger.”

  Theresa put an arm around Nancy’s shoulders. “You’re going to stay,” she said firmly. “What you say may be true, but as yet we have no proof. Besides, we like having you at the dig. I won’t hear of your leaving.”

  Nancy thanked the leader and kissed her. “In any case, Art and I will report last night’s episode to the State Police, if you wish us to.”

  “Yes indeed.”

  They rode away on the motorcycle and soon reached Walmsley. Nancy telephoned the State Police, who promised to investigate at once. Next she called her father. “Dad, I’m so glad I reached you. How’s everything?”

  “Just fine, but Hannah and I miss you very much. Well, what’s the report on the mystery?”

  Nancy brought him up to date. Then Mr. Drew told his daughter that Ned Nickerson was very eager to get in touch with her. “I suggest you call him.”

  Nancy did this, trying three different places where she thought Ned might be. But he was not at any of them. Nancy sat in the phone booth another half a minute thinking of the tall, good-looking young man. Right now he was working on a summer job, selling insurance.

  “I wonder,” she thought, “if by any chance Ned is going to tell me he’s coming out here.” She hoped so!

  Art came to see if she was ready, saying he must get back to the dig. The two roared off on the motorcycle. As they approached the farmhouse, they noticed that two state troopers were already there. With them was an elderly Indian.

  Nancy dismounted and walked up to the group. She introduced herself. The troopers gave their names as Rankin and White, and introduced the Indian as Robert Lightfoot.

  “Mr. Lightfoot is the one who built this ladder,” Rankin said, pointing to the crude piece which lay on the ground beside them. “I’ve seen others like it at his cabin. He says a man who didn’t give his name came to his place and wanted to buy the ladder.”

  The Indian took up the story. “He was a stranger. Told me he needed the ladder to prune his apple trees.”

  “This time of year?” Trooper White exclaimed. “That’s crazy!”

  Lightfoot smiled. “I think so too.”

  Nancy asked for a description of the man. Upon hearing that he was lame and gray-haired, she was sure he was the same person who had brought the ladder to the excavation. The Indian was amazed to learn this and said the buyer had not mentioned the dig.

  The troopers walked off a little distance for a private conversation. Nancy took the opportunity to ask Lightfoot if he had heard the legend about Père François and the hollow oak.

  “The missionary’s treasure will never be found around here,” Lightfoot replied.

  “Treasure?” Nancy repeated.

  “Maybe you think there was only a message,” the Indian went on. “The message told about the treasure. Père François was captured by the Iroquois but he escaped. He started for the Ohio River but never got there. River pirates stole the treasure he was carrying. I am sorry to say they killed him.”

  “Did the legend tell what happened to the treasure?” Nancy asked.

  Lightfoot nodded. “The pirates took it to the river and hid it somewhere. I think maybe in a cave. Nature punished the pirates for their thievery. A great storm overtook them and all were drowned.”

  Nancy was intrigued by the story. “Then the treasure might still be hidden in the cave?”

  “It could be,” the Indian answered.

  The two troopers came over and said they must leave. They promised to start tracking down Tom Wilson. Lightfoot left with them.

  As Nancy went for her digging tools, she kept thinking about the message in the hollow oak, the legendary treasure and its hiding place. Was it possible the pirates’ loot could still be there?

  “I’d like to hunt for it,” she
said to herself. But her thoughts were interrupted when she unearthed a tiny bone. A little later she was delighted to come upon another which matched it. Theresa was thrilled.

  It was not until evening that Nancy had a chance to tell Theresa about the Indian’s story. The archaeologist was interested. She remarked that it was possible to go up and down the Ohio River by towboat and barge.

  “While you’re here, perhaps you’d like to arrange for a trip,” she suggested. “You get on at Cairo.”

  “I’d love to,” Nancy said. “Tomorrow Clem is coming to take Julie Anne and me on another search for the hollow oak with the message. If we don’t find anything, perhaps it would be worth looking in caves along the river.”

  “The most likely one for pirates to have used would be Cave in Rock,” said Theresa. “It’s on the Ohio River near Elizabethtown, Illinois. For a number of years after the Revolutionary War outlaws and pirates used that cave as headquarters. From there they preyed on the flatboats carrying pioneers down the river. Now it’s part of a state park.”

  “It sounds fascinating,” said Nancy.

  The next morning Clem’s car rattled into the farmhouse yard. Nancy and Julie Anne were waiting with a box of lunch. Clem was cheerful as usual and full of exaggerated stories about the area. Right after he had related one about a pioneer who always shot with two guns crossed, Nancy asked him if he had ever heard of Père François and the pirates.

  “Nope, can’t say I have.”

  Nancy and Julie Anne grinned. It was fun to have a story to match Clem’s! Nancy told him Lightfoot’s version of the hollow oak legend.

  “Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” he said, removing his battered straw hat and scratching his head. “Thought I knew all the stories about this neck o’ the woods.”

  By this time they had reached the hollow oak with the arrow pointing south and went in that direction to look for another one. After a bouncy ride they came to a stream of rushing water filled with rocks, many of them sharp.

  When Clem headed for it, Julie Anne cried out, “Oh, you’re not going to try crossing this?”

  “I sure am,” Clem replied. “Been through here many times.”