The Secret of the Forgotten City (8 page)

Bess added, “I suppose there’s no use wishing, but I hope Fleetfoot doesn’t find out where our camp is.”

“I’ll bet he knows already,” George said. “He probably watches everything that’s going on in this desert.”

“And steals what he can,” Bess added.

Nancy had not spoken for some minutes. She kept looking right and left across the uninhabited landscape. There was not a house or other building in sight.

Finally Bess said, “Nancy, you look concerned. Why?”

Nancy said she had been watching her falling gas gauge.

“It’s almost on the empty mark,” she said. “I hope that even when it’s marked empty, there’s a little gas left in the tank.”

She drove for another ten minutes, then slowly the engine sputtered to a halt. The car rolled for another hundred feet under its own momentum and stopped.

“Oh, don’t tell me!” Bess said. “It’s a long way back to town—miles and miles. I couldn’t possibly walk.”

George said, “I don’t relish a hike of twenty-five miles myself.”

Nancy suggested that if they could get to the main road, there surely would be help.

“Bess, suppose you sit behind the wheel and steer. George and I will push the car.”

They tried this, but after doing so for a mile, Nancy and George were exhausted. Bess pleaded with them to rest.

“You won’t have to ask me twice,” George replied with a groan.

She flopped down on the field at the side of the road and stretched out. Nancy, too, lay down. The two girls closed their eyes against the sunlight and soon were ready to fall asleep.

Suddenly Bess awakened them with a loud scream and cried out, “Nancy! There’s a hairy scorpion on you!”

Nancy jumped up instantly, flinging off the creature. It crawled away.

“I guess it’s safer in the car,” George said. “Nancy, let’s get back inside and rest in a safe place.”

Another ten minutes went by. Then the girls heard the sound of a motor. Nancy and George got out. A car was coming up the road. They waved frantically and it stopped. A young man sat at the wheel.

“You having trouble?” he asked, leaning out of his window.

Bess cried out, “Nancy, there’s a hairy scorpion on you.
!”

“We sure are,” George responded. “We’re out of gas. We don’t have one drop.”

The young man grinned. “I can siphon off enough to get you to the first gas station,” he said. “I can’t give you any more than that. I’m going deeper into the desert and don’t dare run short.”

Nancy thanked him for the help and said, “You’re a life saver. Two of us tried pushing the car for a mile and that was enough. Our friend in the car has a sprained ankle.”

“That’s what I call hard luck,” the young man said.

He had already hopped from his car and was now opening the trunk. In a few moments he took out a narrow piece of hose and measured the distance between Nancy’s gas tank and his own. The hose did not quite reach, so he drove his car closer, then measured again.

“It’s long enough now,” he said. “Well, here goes.” He grinned. “Open your tank and we’ll get started with this life saving job.”

Nancy unscrewed the cap and he did the same on his car. Then he inserted the hose into his gasoline tank and squeezed the air out of the hose with his fingers. He put the open end into Nancy’s tank and the fluid began to flow.

He called to Bess to watch the gas gauge. When it reached a little above the empty mark, he removed the hose.

The young man refused to take any money, saying, “This is my good deed for the day.” He wished the girls luck and drove off.

The rest of their journey was quick. Nancy stopped at a filling station, then went directly to the Anderson home.

The boys were there and Ned said, “The Andersons are taking us to a hotel to dinner. I’m sure you’ll want to shower and change to something suitable. See you later.”

The girls scooted off to their rooms. Twenty minutes later they reappeared, refreshed and ready for the dinner party.

The group was going to the hotel in several cars. Nancy and her friends set off first in the one she had rented. When they reached the lavish hostelry, the young people waited in the large lobby for the others to arrive.

“This place is ostentatiously furnished,” George said. “I like things simpler.”

“It’s too noisy to suit me,” Bess commented. “This town never goes to bed, I hear.”

In a few minutes Nancy and her friends noticed that telephone operators were paging various guests and announcing telephone calls for them.

Bess giggled. “How would you like to have that name?” she asked, repeating the call for Miss Shirley Rainbow.

A few moments later there was a call for Mr. Bill Verythin. The next few were simple names like Smith and Jones.

Presently the operator called out, “Miss Rosemary Bluebird! Call for Rosemary Bluebird!”

Nancy and her friends were laughing by this time.

“I’m sure,” said Ned, “that these are names of people who are here incognito; perhaps famous persons like movie stars.”

The others agreed and continued to listen eagerly for the next one. Suddenly Nancy, Bess, and George were electrified to hear a familiar name called out.

“Phone call for Miss Antler! Important call for Miss Antler. Will Miss Antler please answer the phone nearest her?”

The girls looked at one another and Nancy said, “Miss Antler? Antler? That was the name of the person Mrs. Wabash told us to try to find while we’re here!”

Ned asked, “Do you suppose she has something to do with the desert secret?”

“I think so,” Nancy replied. “Mrs. Wabash said she would be very helpful to us. Let’s hunt for her!”

The hotel was large and there were so many telephones that it was hard to know where to start.

“This is going to be a real job,” George commented.

Nancy suggested that the group separate and scatter to various places in the lobby.

“If you see a young woman at a phone, try to find out if she’s Miss Antler.”

The six young sleuths hurried away to begin their search.

MEN were making calls from most of the telephones in the lobby, but there were a few women. Bess and George had no luck with the women they approached. Burt and Dave, too, were unsuccessful.

Ned went up to a young woman who was evidently waiting for a long-distance call and was holding the receiver.

“Pardon me,” said Ned, “but are you Miss Antler?”

The young woman began to laugh.
“No—dear.
I’m Miss
Lambkin.
Ma-a! Ma-a! What can I do for you?”

Ned ignored the crude humor. “Do you happen to know Miss Antler?” he asked.

Again the young woman giggled. “Come now, is that her real name?”

Ned decided not to tell her. “Who knows?” he said, walking away. At that moment the young woman’s call came through, and she began to talk with someone.

A little while later Ned joined the rest of the group, which had already gathered. Nancy had found Miss Antler, and now she introduced her to the others. She was a young Indian woman, very pretty and charming.

“I’m so glad you found me,” she said in a musical voice. “Mrs. Wabash wrote to tell me that you were coming, but unfortunately she did not say when.

“I’m a graduate student of geology and surveying. This is how I became interested in the desert area. It was through some experimental work I’ve done here that I met Mrs. Wabash. Unfortunately, I left no forwarding address, so she couldn’t get in touch with me again.”

Nancy smiled. “That was a lucky telephone call. To be truthful, we have heard so many amusing names paged here, we decided all of them were probably people who were traveling incognito. We even wondered if you might be.”

“No,” the young Indian woman responded, her black eyes twinkling. “It’s really my name but I am teased a good deal about it.”

Ned spoke up. “Mrs. Wabash said you could help us in our search in the desert.”

Miss Antler said she believed she could. “I was helping Mrs. Wabash translate the petroglyphs on those ancient tablets. Now we can finish the work.”

“Didn’t you know,” Nancy asked, “that all but one tablet were stolen?”

“No. How dreadful!”

Nancy told her the whole story, including the few clues that she had.

“My friends and I hope the police will pick up Fleetfoot.”

“I hope so, too,” the young Indian woman said. “In the meantime, in my work I have collected stories and legends from the older Indians who live in this area. I think there are some good clues in them as to where some rewarding digging might take place.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Nancy told her.

“Terrific!” George exclaimed. “Could you draw us a map?”

Miss Antler smiled. “I was hoping that maybe you would invite me to go on the dig with you.”

Nancy was excited by this idea. “Could you? We’d love to have you come.”

“I’d love to accept,” Miss Antler replied. “Since we’ll be working closely, I want you to call me by my first name. It’s Wanna.”

“What a pretty name!” Bess remarked.

“I think so, too,” Wanna said. “When are you going to start your trip?”

“We’re planning to leave tomorrow morning,” Nancy told her. “Could you be ready by that time?”

“Oh yes,” Wanna said. “I’ll bring some special tools and surveying instruments with me.” She smiled broadly. “I’m really very excited about this. Will you be in touch with Mrs. Wabash?”

Nancy said she planned to telephone her that evening and hoped the woman would have returned from her trip.

“I know she’ll be pleased that we found you,” Nancy said. She gave Wanna the Anderson’s home address; then the Indian student said good-by. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Bess saw the rest of their group arriving and soon they were all together. A big table had been reserved for them, and in a short time they were eating and watching an amusing stage show.

After they returned to the Anderson residence, Nancy called Mrs. Wabash.

“I’ve just come home,” the woman said. “Before leaving River Heights I spoke with the police. They had heard nothing about the stolen tablets.”

Nancy surprised the woman by telling her she had seen Fleetfoot at the Mouse’s Tank and among the rocks in the Valley of Fire.

“We reported the incident to the Nevada Police, and they are hunting for Fleetfoot and the tablets he has.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Wabash said. “When do you leave for your trip to the desert?”

When she heard that it was early the following morning, Mrs. Wabash said, “Then I won’t see you for some time. I’ll be eager to know whether you find anything of interest.”

Nancy told her about meeting Wanna Antler, and said the young Indian woman would go on the desert dig with her group.

“I’m glad,” Mrs. Wabash said, then added, “Good night, Nancy. Have a restful sleep and a wonderfully successful dig.”

After hanging up, Nancy had a hunch. Could Fleetfoot have hidden the tablets somewhere in the Valley of Fire?

“Or was he just about to secrete them at the Mouse’s Tank when Bess screamed?” the young detective asked herself.

She determined that at the first opportunity she and her friends would go to investigate the place. Nancy thought about it long after getting into bed, but finally dropped off to sleep. In the morning she was awakened by George.

“Get up, sleepyhead,” her friend said. “You’d better hurry, or the caravan will leave without you!”

The girls were downstairs in a little while. Mrs. Anderson had breakfast ready for the group, then they went outside to assemble. It had been decided that Nancy would keep the rented car, since she wanted to make some side trips in connection with her sleuthing.

By eight o’clock, the caravan was ready to leave. Despite all that the girls had heard, they were still amazed at the size of the vehicles assembled, and the equipment in them. One truck carried tents for the whole group. Another was literally a kitchen on wheels, with a smiling chef in charge. There was a large refrigerated car with so much food in it that Bess’s eyes bulged.

George teased her. “Watch that waistline, cousin. But then, if you work hard enough, maybe you won’t put on any more pounds.”

Bess made a face but said nothing. She had a continuous battle with the problem of gaining weight. Furthermore, there was no advice that helped, and each time she began a diet, her friends teased her.

One truck carried all sorts of digging tools, shovels, and spades. On a rig in one vehicle was a drill with electric motors to run it.

Wanna had joined the group and now said to Nancy, “I don’t think they’ll be using that drill much. Archaeological and geological digging is mostly a matter of hand labor. I’ve brought some special sieves for our group. Also some drawing pads, pencils, and crayons. Everything has to be very precise and accurately reported.”