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Authors: Carolyn G. Keene

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BOOK: The Phantom of Pine Hill
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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.
Nancy put the ribbon in her pocket and the girls started off once more. This time they could hear footsteps ahead of them in the woods. Once they caught a glimpse of the slight, middle-aged man hurrying away. As the girls quickened their pace, they heard him run. Who was he? Why had he followed them?
Finally they reached the cove at a spot where the embankment was high. Nancy nastened to the edge to see if the mysterious rowboat was in sight.
As she stood on the brink, suddenly the earth gave way. Nancy struggled to save herself but plunged forward with the rocks and dirt. George tried to grab her friend but failed. She too lost her balance as the earth crumbled still more!
“This is from the sunken
Lucy Belle!”
exclaimed Bess
CHAPTER XIV
Puzzling Characters
HORRIFIED, Bess looked down the embankment at the rolling, tumbling girls. She managed to pull back in time to keep from being carried down herself.
“Oh, I hope Nancy and George didn’t break any bones!” she thought worriedly.
Both girls had been able to halt their descent just before reaching the little beach. They sat up and clawed dirt from their faces and eyes.
“Are you all right?” Bess called down anxiously.
George looked up at her cousin. “All right, but I’m furious. Why did that earth have to give way just when we were on the trail of the phantom?”
Nancy smiled, despite her disheveled condition and several scratches. “George, you can make any awful situation seem funny. Just the same, I’m sorry too we lost that man.”
The two girls stood up and shook dirt from their clothes. Then, choosing a more solid section of embankment where bushes were growing, they started to climb upward.
Suddenly Bess warned in a hoarse whisper, “Look out there on the water! There’s Fred Jenkins in a rowboat!”
Nancy and George turned, but could not see the boat very clearly through the brush. They wondered if Fred had seen them tumble. One thing was sure—he had made no effort to help them. He was far from shore and going past the spot where they were.
As the two girls reached the top of the embankment, Bess said, “The rowboat Fred was in looked just like the one we saw that mysterious man go off in!”
“The boat wasn’t marked and there may be many others like it,” George said. “Personally, I think Fred Jenkins is too stupid to be mixed up in this mystery.”
“Well, I’m not so sure he isn’t in it,” Nancy declared. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that very often he is around where we are? I admit he seems stupid, but someone else may be having him spy on us. It’s even possible he personally faked that telephone call about Hannah Gruen.”
George was indignant. “I vote we find out at once.”
Bess looked at her cousin and asked, “And how in the world are you going to do that? If Fred is guilty, you don’t suppose he’s going to tell us?”
George had no answer to this and the three girls walked along in silence for several minutes. Then Nancy said, “I think I have a solution. We’ll ask Mrs. Holman where Fred lives and quiz some of his neighbors about him.”
When they reached home, the housekeeper looked in astonishment at Nancy and George. “You really meant it when you said you were going digging. Did you find anything besides the skeleton?”
Nancy showed her the ribbon with the word
Belle
on it and explained where she had found it. “That’s our whole score,” said George, “plus some beads and arrowheads. No wedding gifts, no gold.”
The girls bathed and put on fresh clothes. They came downstairs and asked Mrs. Holman for Fred Jenkins’ address. She gave it to them and inquired, “Do you want to see him?”
Nancy told her what she had in mind, but pledged the housekeeper to secrecy. “I won’t say a word,” the woman promised.
It was late afternoon when the girls set off in the convertible with the top down. Fred lived in a section of old, small homes. The guest house where he had a room was respectable but run down.
A pleasant woman answered Nancy’s ring and said that Fred was not at home. She smirked broadly.
“Three
attractive young ladies coming to visit him! And him kind of simple at times.”
Bess and George were about to reveal that they were not personal friends of Fred’s, but Nancy gave them a warning look. A sudden idea had come to her.
She laughed. “Fred is simple only at times?” she asked the landlady.
“That’s right,” the garrulous woman replied. “He’s as bright as the next one when he sets his mind to it.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Nancy. “Otherwise, it would be hard for him to earn a living, I suppose.”
The guest-house owner stared at Nancy. “You’re a bright one yourself. You’re right. Fred couldn’t hold down a job if he wasn’t bright sometimes.”
Nancy went on quickly, “That’s why we’re here—to see about giving Fred a job. I want my car washed. But I’ll be in touch with him.”
The woman assured her that she knew Fred would be delighted to do any kind of a job for such an attractive girl. Nancy ignored the compliment. Secretly she wondered if the woman were trying to pump her. She asked, “Oh, by the way, does Fred have a family?”
“The only one I know about is his pa. He lives here with Fred.”
“I see,” said Nancy. “I suppose he’s employed too?”
The guest-house owner crossed her arms and leaned forward so that her face was very close to Nancy’s. She spoke as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her except the girls.
“Kind of funny about him. He’s a strange man. Don’t talk much, and as far as I know he don’t work neither. But you know what? The last month or so, every single clear day he leaves here in the morning and don’t come back until night.”
“What makes you think he’s not working?” Nancy asked.
The woman shrugged. “Oh, you can tell. I’ve had enough renters in this place to know when somebody’s got a regular job and when they ain’t. But I just can’t figure out what that man is doing with himself all day.”
A silence followed which George broke by grinning and saying, “Maybe he’s sitting in the park feeding the birds!”
The woman laughed, but said, “Not him. He’s got a gleam in his eye, like he’s got something to do. I try to talk to him sometimes, but he always cuts me off.”
BOOK: The Phantom of Pine Hill
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