The Message in the Hollow Oak (5 page)

Nancy was disappointed over the delay. But in the meantime she would try to find out about the helicopter pilot and who his passenger was.

Clem took a shortcut back to the dig. The girls thanked him for the trip and said they would expect him in three days.

As Clem drove away, Nancy thought, “I’ll have to figure a way to get to town so I can find out about that copter.”

It was nearly suppertime and the diggers had stopped work. Nancy and Julie Anne found the other girls preparing a wholesome meal. Meanwhile, the bovs were cleaning the artifacts and fossils which they had discovered at the bottom of a new pit.

All of them were eager to hear what progress Nancy had made on her case. She related the details, including Clem’s story about the catfish. The others laughed and Art burst into a song from the opera
Porgy and Bess
about Catfish Row.

When he finished, Nancy announced, “I’d like to drive some place to make a phone call. I forgot to ask Clem if he has a telephone.”

Art spoke up. “I have a two-seater motorcycle here,” he told her. “I’ll be glad to take you to town.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nancy said. “Could we go tomorrow morning?”

“You bet,” he said. “But it will have to be early. My shift begins at ten A.M.”

“Where do you think the pilot came from?” Nancy asked him.

Art said there was a small airfield outside the town of Walmsley, the nearest one to the dig.

They had a very early breakfast and left the dig site at seven o’clock. Art drove directly to Walmsley and went on to the airfield which was about three miles out of town.

When they arrived Nancy stepped into the office and asked who owned the helicopter with the license number she had copied on her pad. She showed it to the man in charge.

“Oh, that’s Roscoe Thompson,” he replied. “Is he around now? I’d like to speak to him,” Nancy said.

Thompson was at the end of the field checking his helicopter. Nancy and Art walked over to him.

Roscoe proved to be a very pleasant young man and gladly answered Nancy’s questions. His passenger the day before had been a man named Tom Wilson.

“Where does he come from?” Nancy questioned.

“I really don’t know. He didn’t talk much. Said he wanted to make the trip over the site of the various Indian burial mounds. Mr. Wilson was interested to learn their locations because he’s an amateur archaeologist.

“By the way,” Roscoe went on, “Mr. Wilson was very curious about two girls and a man who were hacking at an oak tree. Was one of them you?”

“Yes,” Nancy admitted. “Why did your passenger want to know what I was doing?”

“He didn’t say.”

Roscoe asked Nancy if she would like to speak to Tom Wilson. When she said Yes, the pilot told her he expected the man to arrive at the airfield about midmorning.

“I’ll introduce you,” he said.

This was just what Nancy wanted! She turned to Art, “Could you possibly stay a little longer?”

The archaeology student shook his head. “Sorry, but a promise is a promise. I must be back at the dig by ten. Several of us are working on a certain section and each one of us has a particular task.”

“I understand,” Nancy said.

Seeing Nancy’s look of disappointment, Art said, “Maybe this Tom Wilson will get here before ten. I can give you a half hour. In the meantime I’ll run into town and pick up some food supplies.”

Nancy was grateful. “I’ll make a few phone calls. If Mr. Wilson should arrive, will you let me know?” she asked Roscoe.

“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!”

“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 saw 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.

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.