The Message in the Hollow Oak (6 page)
Read The Message in the Hollow Oak Online
Authors: Carolyn Keene
Tags: #Canada, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Gold, #Mystery & Detective, #Juvenile Fiction, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Treasure Troves, #Nature & the Natural World, #Mystery Stories, #Adventure Stories, #Gold Miners, #Illinois, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #Fraud, #General, #Mystery and Detective Stories
“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.”
The girls held on tightly as the old, open car was driven into the water. It swung from side to side and slid off the rocks. Clem had a determined look on his face.
“This is crazy!” Julie Anne whispered.
Nancy thought so too, but before she had a chance to say this out loud, the car gave a sudden jerk. The right wheels landed up on the rocks. The car tilted precariously and went out of control.
The next instant it went over on its side, throwing the occupants into the rock stream!
CHAPTER VIII
Exciting Plans
FOR a few moments after the car went over, there was no sound except that of the rushing water. Then Nancy, soaked from head to toe, arose and looked around. To her relief Julie Anne was pulling herself up. Both of them were concerned about Clem. But the next second he stood upright and gazed sheepishly at the girls.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said. “I don’t know what possessed this contraption. She just got stubborn. Been through here many times. But now when I have passengers, she starts to act up. You two all right?”
“Yes, I am,” Nancy replied, “but soaked.”
“Me too,” Julie Anne added.
“I reckon you’ll dry out soon, it’s so hot,” Clem predicted. “Want to give me a hand with this thing? We’ll see if we can right her.”
The old car was not heavy and though it took the combined strength of its three passengers they finally managed to set the vehicle on its four wheels. Clem climbed into the driver’s scat and tried to start the motor. Dead! Its owner stepped out. As he scratched his head in perplexity, the farmer realized his hat was gone.
“Sailed on downstream, I reckon,” he said with a sigh.
“And our lunch too,” Julie Anne stated ruefully. “I guess we’ll have to give up our sleuthing for today.”
Nancy had been looking toward the shore. “Perhaps we can push the car back to the embankment, and after it dries out, the motor will start,” she said hopefully.
“You may be right,” Clem agreed. He heaved a sigh. “It’s a long walk home and a long way to the bridge that goes across this stream. Anyhow it don’t take cars. All right, let’s push!”
One girl got on each side of the old car, while Clem pushed the front end and guided the steering wheel. The going was rough and the car balked at the rocks. By the time they finally reached the embankment, all of them were exhausted and flopped to the ground for a rest.
Water poured from the car. When the flow slackened, Clem opened the hood. “We’ll let the sun work on this,” he announced. Nevertheless he took some rags from a compartment and began sopping water from the engine.
“I predict,” he said, “that this old buggy will be runnin’ within half an hour.”
“I certainly hope so,” Julie Anne replied. She was now walking up and down letting the breeze blow through her hair and clothing.
Meanwhile Nancy had been looking around. She spotted a huge oak on the far side of the stream. Though the tree was in full leaf and looked healthy, and probably was not hollow, she wondered if there might be a lead plate on it.
“I won’t be satisfied until I make certain,” the young sleuth thought, and pointed out the oak to Julie Anne and Clem. “I think I’ll wade over there and look.”
“But you’re already partially dry,” Julie Anne reminded her.
She knew this would not deter Nancy and she was right. The curious young detective stepped down into the stream and made her way across. To her disappointment, she found that the tree had no lead plate on it nor any carvings or other marks.
“Well, I can’t pick up a clue every time,” Nancy said to herself, and recrossed the stream.
By this time Clem had dried off the motor and the many wires leading from it. Hopefully he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. The enginer sputtered and a stream of water shot out of the exhaust. Coughing and sputtering, the motor kept going, and in three minutes purred normally.
“Yea!” Nancy and Julie Anne cried out.
The two girls got into the back seat and Clem took off. Presently Nancy asked if he knew how to go about arranging a towboat trip.
“Yep,” said Clem. “I know just the fellow who can fix you up. He’s an old geezer, a retired towboat captain. Lives just outside o’ Cairo, about four miles up the bank u’ the Ohio. You can’t miss it—small white house with red trim. Name’s Nathaniel Hornbeck.”
“Do you have his phone number?” Nancy asked.
Clem grinned as he swerved around a hole in the dirt road. “He don’t have one. You just knock on the door. He’s glad for company. Sorry I disappointed you today,” Clem added, “but sometime I’ll come around and take you on the rest of the journey to find the hollow oak.”
“Great,” Nancy said. “Just let us know.”
By the time they reached the dig, the trio was thoroughly dry but disheveled looking. Nancy and Julie Anne hurried into the farmhouse to change their clothes. No one was around and they assumed the diggers were busy in the excavation.
When the girls came outside, they met Theresa coming from the dig, holding something in her hand. She looked at the girls and beamed. “I’ve made a marvelous find!” she exclaimed.
The archaeologist opened her fingers to reveal an ancient Indian necklace of river pearls and a shell bracelet.
“These had been in a deerskin pouch,” she told the girls. “Of course the pouch had disintegrated but we’re saving the fragments. I’m taking these treasures to our lab.”
During the rest of the day Nancy kept wondering why Ned wanted to talk to her. Since Art was not free to go into Walmsley she could not telephone, but he promised to take her the next morning.
They set off early. When they reached town, Art said he would shop while Nancy was busy. Once more she tried Ned and finally found him.
“Hi!” she said. “I’m glad I located you.”
Ned Nickerson chuckled. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me. Have you solved the mystery?”
“No, but I have an interesting lead.”
“Good. Nancy, how would you like three hearty young men and two smart girls to join you?”
Nancy almost shouted for joy. “You mean you and Burt and Dave and George and Bess can come here?”
Ned said this was exactly what he meant. “You say the word and we’ll hop a plane.”
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