The Flying Saucer Mystery Page 8

  It was a very warm night and Nancy, Bess, and George, who were together in one tent, decided to leave the side flaps halfway up. There was not a sound anywhere except the hoot of a distant owl.

  Much later Nancy, sound asleep, thought a voice had called her name. She roused but did not open her eyes. Then she heard it distinctly.

  “Nancy! Nancy!”

  16

  The Eerie Cave

  Nancy managed to pull herself out of her deep sleep. She saw a figure standing over her. Instinctively she grabbed the flashlight from under her pillow and shone it into the mysterious face.

  “Shoso!” she called.

  Without a word he handed her a bunch of leaves, then turned and vanished. Nancy beamed her light on them.

  The restorative leaves Bess had asked for! Great! she thought.

  Hoping not to disturb her friends, the young sleuth got up quietly, took a plastic bag from her backpack, and put the leaves inside it. Finally she crawled back into her sleeping bag and dozed off. The next thing she knew it was morning. The sun was shining through the trees, and birds were singing.

  When the three groups of campers assembled to plan the day’s work, Nancy showed the bag of leaves to everyone and told them about her night visitor.

  Bess gaped at her friend in amazement. “And you didn’t call George and me? Weren’t you scared? Oh, I’d have died if I’d seen that man’s stony face staring at me!” The others laughed.

  Professor Hendricks, the botanist, asked for the leaves. “We’ll analyze them this morning.”

  “They are unusual-looking,” Dr. Caffrey said. “I don’t recognize them.”

  “If you professionals don’t recognize them,” Mr. Drew remarked, “then I guess nobody would. Do you suppose this mountain forest is the only place in the world where the plant grows?”

  “Maybe it’s a tree,” Bess suggested. “Let’s find out from Shoso.”

  George had an idea. “We don’t know where Shoso lives. Perhaps he has a garden and the leaves grow in it.”

  “Or,” Jan said, and paused a moment, “maybe the tribe that once lived in this forest cultivated the plant, knowing its medicinal value.”

  “That’s very possible,” Dr. Caffrey agreed. “I’m curious to see what you chemists come up with.”

  The botanist smiled. “I may even eat one of the leaves to sample its positive effect for myself!”

  Since Nancy’s group could do nothing to help, she suggested that the six young people continue their hunt for Old Joe’s treasure.

  “Where shall we start?” Dave asked, “and what shall we take?”

  “I suggest you take hunting knives and that we begin at the pyramid of rocks I told you about,” the girl detective answered. “We should see for ourselves where the arrow points.”

  The young sleuths put on waterproof hiking boots, packed a lunch, collected digging tools, and started off.

  Hal called to them, “Bring us some fish!” He ran up to Dave and handed him a bucket with a punctured lid.

  “Supper coming up,” Dave replied with a grin. “A whole bucket full.”

  Nancy said, “Let’s ride to the stream.”

  The group mounted. Nancy and George led the way to the marker inscribed with the initials of Old Joe’s father. They tethered the horses and waded into the water.

  The boys tried to catch trout with their hands. They thought it would be as easy for them as it was for Old Joe’s dog, Trixie, but the slippery fish wriggled out of their grasp.

  “There’s a big one coming!” Dave shouted eagerly. “And I’m going to get it!”

  He was about to grab the fish, when he slipped on a rock and fell, splashing water in every direction. The girls burst into laughter.

  “Why don’t you try it?” Dave said, disgruntled.

  Ned and Burt were more successful. They put several fish into the bucket and fastened the lid. But as Ned dived for another speckled trout, he kicked over the bucket by accident. The lid came off and all of the fish they had caught swam downstream.

  “We’re pretty poor fishermen, I’d say,” he chided himself.

  Again the three girls giggled. “Maybe we’re bad luck,” Bess said. “Why don’t Nancy, George, and I go on and let you boys catch fish by yourselves?”

  The other girls agreed. They stopped to look at the pyramid. By pushing some stones aside they uncovered the initials and the arrow. It pointed directly across the bubbling stream.

  When they reached the opposite bank, the searchers decided to separate. “Let’s return in ten minutes to this same spot,” Nancy suggested, “and report whatever clues we find.”

  The first time they met they were discouraged. “You don’t suppose,” Bess said, “that we’re on a wild goose chase? Maybe Old Joe’s father was a jokester .”

  “I think not,” Nancy said. “I have an idea he was serious, but wanted to keep his secret well hidden. Let’s investigate beyond the immediate area this time.”

  Once more each girl went on her own, carefully examining every tree and rock. When the trio met again, George was grinning.

  “I found something!” she exclaimed. “Follow me. Hurry!”

  Bess suggested that they wait a few minutes for the boys. “We’re already ahead of them. If we go too far, we could easily lose one another. I don’t want us to get lost in this forest.”

  “Here they come now,” Nancy said, glancing back on their trail.

  The three boys were trudging up the short path the girls had made leading from the stream. Burt was carrying the bucket gingerly.

  “Any luck?” George asked, then added teasingly, “Or did all those small speckled creatures slip away from you again?”

  Burt smiled. “I’ll show you.”

  He unfastened the lid partway. The girls gazed inside. To their amazement the bucket was full of trout!

  “There’s enough fish for everybody at camp,” Bess remarked. “What a yummy supper. I can taste it now.”

  George led the group to a tree on which another arrow had been carved. Underneath it, almost obliterated, were the initials J A.

  “Joseph Austin!” Nancy exclaimed. “Super!”

  “We’re in luck!” Dave said.

  The searchers set off in the direction indicated by the arrow. They trekked for some time, looking carefully at everything they passed, but there were no further directions. They kept on straight ahead, but became more discouraged by the minute.

  Finally Nancy called a halt. “How about a rest period?” she suggested, dropping to the ground.

  “Great idea,” Bess replied. “And a good time to have that lunch we brought.”

  “Is that all you ever think about—lunch?” George replied.

  “No,” Bess smirked, “sometimes I think about dinner!”

  Without waiting for another teasing remark from her cousin, Bess went to help with preparations. The snack was ready in minutes and eaten with gusto. Then the trekkers started off again.

  “Wait a minute!” Nancy said. “I think we’re going in the wrong direction.”

  “I agree,” Ned told her.

  They all returned to the luncheon spot, got their bearings, and started off once more. It was not long before they came to a good-sized tree with another carved arrow on it. They looked carefully for initials but if there had ever been any, they were gone now.

  “Maybe Old Joe’s father didn’t put this arrow mark here,” Burt suggested.

  Nancy studied it closely. In her mind was a vivid picture of the other arrows.

  “I’m sure this was made by the same person,” she said. “I counted the number of little featherlike veins on the others. This one has the same amount.”

  Ned looked at her admiringly. “We didn’t even see them, much less count them,” he said. “Great sleuthing.”

  George noticed that this arrow pointed to a steep rise of land. When the climbers reached the top, they saw ahead of them a circular clump of trees that didn’t seem part of the or
iginal forest, but looked as though they had been planted by someone. “Do you suppose that means something?” Dave asked.

  Everyone rushed forward and then the boys squeezed behind the trees. A moment later, Ned called, “There’s a cave here. It looks like a deep one.”

  He had scarcely finished speaking when they heard a nasty snarl and a hiss. The boys shrank back.

  “Another wildcat!” Ned cried out, as the animal appeared at the cave entrance.

  Nancy had a sudden hunch. “Maybe it’s Kitty, Old Joe’s friend. This may be her lair.” She called out, “Kitty! Kitty! Where are you?”

  The snarling and hissing ceased and the wildcat stopped short. Nancy continued to speak to her.

  “Kitty, behave yourself! We’re not going to hurt you!”

  Finally Kitty came toward them. Did she recognize Nancy and Ned? Taking a chance, they patted the wildcat.

  Bess was terrified. “You shouldn’t do that!”

  The animal looked up and for a moment they all panicked. Would she spring at one of them? But the big cat remained passive and quiet.

  Nancy said to the others, “While Ned and I keep Kitty happy, why don’t you four investigate the cave?”

  “Will do,” Dave replied.

  The two couples walked behind the clump of trees and turned on their flashlights. In the meantime Kitty got a whiff of the fish in the bucket. She pawed at it, trying to push the lid off.

  Nancy was afraid she might overturn the bucket and let the water run out. Then the fish would die. “Why don’t we give Kitty one of the fish?” she suggested.

  “Okay,” Ned agreed. He selected a plump trout and threw it to the wildcat. She caught it in her mouth and ran off with the fish.

  “I hope she doesn’t return for more,” Nancy said.

  “Me, too,” Ned added, with a grin.

  Kitty did not come back, and everyone gave a sigh of relief. Ned hung the bucket on a high branch, hoping no other animal would try to disturb the fish. He and Nancy now entered the cave.

  “Look what we found!” Bess exclaimed.

  She and the others were examining pictures painted on the walls. They had dusted them off so the sketches could be seen plainly. One scene depicted a white hunter stalking toward an enormous tree. An Indian face was carved on the trunk.

  George asked the others if they thought Old Joe’s father had drawn the pictures, or whether an Indian may have painted them many years ago.

  “It’s very hard to say,” Burt replied. “Whoever painted them was a real artist. The colors are perfect and haven’t faded.”

  “They’re great likenesses of Indians,” Bess murmured, studying the paintings carefully.

  In the meantime, Nancy was looking at another picture beyond the one of the big tree—a half-circle of footprints in front of a cave.

  “I think this sketch refers to the cave we’re in,” she said, “and I think it’s connected to the other picture of the hunter. The half-circle of footprints may lead from here to an enormous tree with an Indian head on it. So let’s get going! I have a hunch Old Joe’s father really did draw these pictures.”

  “You mean we may be getting close to the treasure he buried?” Bess asked.

  Yes, come on!”

  17

  Fire!

  Undecided how to start hunting for the big tree with an Indian painted on it, Nancy’s friends paced aimlessly. Which way should they go? There was no arrow to give them a clue.

  Finally Ned broke the silence. “We’re wasting time. I have a suggestion. After all, this is Nancy’s mystery. Why don’t we let her make the decision and we’ll follow it?”

  The others chorused their agreement.

  Nancy smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “The pictures indicate that we should half circle the cave until we reach an enormous tree with an Indian face on it.”

  “So,” said George, “we ought to begin with small half-circles and keep making them larger until we find the right tree?”

  Nancy nodded. The group spread out into parallel, semicircular formations and walked through the forest, examining every tree along the way.

  “I think I found something!” Burt shouted excitedly. “Come here, everybody!”

  His friends immediately ran toward him. Nancy was beaming as she darted past the others, hopeful that the search had ended successfully. When she reached him, Burt was on his hands and knees, brushing dirt away from the roots of a tree.

  “Where’s the Indian’s face?” Nancy asked, as she glanced in puzzlement around the trunk.

  “No Indian,” Burt mumbled, still digging his nails into the soft ground. “Here!” he exclaimed at last.

  Proudly he displayed the blunt tip of an arrow.

  “Oh,” Nancy said, secretly disappointed. “That’s very nice.”

  “Nice!” Burt repeated. “Is that all you can say? It’s great!”

  By now, the others had gathered around the young man.

  “So where’s the Indian’s face?” George inquired.

  Nancy pointed to the arrowhead, and George said, “Is that all you found?”

  Gradually losing his own enthusiasm, Burt nodded. To ease his regret, Nancy said, “I heard Jan say that Hal picked up a few old arrowheads not far from here. Maybe we ought to add this one to the collection.”

  Burt dropped the arrow in George’s hand. “Be my guest,” he said.

  “Actually,” George interrupted, “I’d like to wear it on a neck chain.” She winked at Burt. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” he answered, evidently pleased.

  The searchers continued their hunt for almost half an hour longer, but returned finally to their starting point. No one had discovered anything helpful.

  Again Bess suggested they were on a wild goose chase, and once more the others disagreed with her. “Well, what do we do now?” she asked.

  Nancy said that perhaps the half-circle of footprints in the cave picture might be the other half of the circles they had made.

  “We’ll retrace our steps, but instead of stopping halfway, we’ll complete the circle.”

  George proposed that everyone change places. “Maybe someone else will spot what the others missed.”

  The group drew lots to determine who would take which circle. Nancy was assigned to the one farthest from the cave.

  The search continued and no one spoke. Their eyes were riveted to each tree they saw. Without discovering anything unusual they soon reached the end of the half-circle and went on to complete it fully.

  Nancy had almost finished circling when she paused to gaze at a giant aspen tree. Apparently it had been struck by lightning. Half of it lay on the ground. The lower part of the trunk was still upright. There was no carving on this part.

  The eager young detective hurried to the fallen trunk which lay bark side down. She could see part of a carving just above the break.

  That looks like the carving of an Indian! Nancy thought, her pulse racing. She could not see it very well. If only she could roll the trunk over! But this was impossible. She called loudly to the rest of the group who flew to her side.

  “Look!” she cried out, pointing. “Doesn’t that look like the carving of an Indian’s head?”

  “It sure does,” Ned agreed, adding with an obvious twinkle in his eyes, “Some people have all the luck. I knew I should have stuck with you!”

  Nancy blushed happily. “I could’ve told you that,” she teased back. “Come on and help me turn the trunk, everybody.”

  The six young people tried to push the fallen tree, but their efforts were in vain.

  “This is aggravating,” George fumed. “Especially since I believe Nancy is about to solve the mystery!”

  The young sleuth suggested that they examine the interior of the tree in case something was hidden inside. They combed every inch. The split was clean. There were no bumps or depressions.

  “It would take a derrick to lift even half of this tree,” N
ed complained. “Nancy, what’s our next move?”

  “I think we should go to Old Joe’s cabin and tell him what we’ve learned.”

  “This is maddening,” Bess said in disgust. “I’m sure we’re about to make a great discovery and can’t do it because we’re not strong enough.”

  Burt grinned. “Think of all the years this tree has lived here without being disturbed. It must be hundreds of years old. In fact, it might date back to the days of giant men who could lift it with one hand tied behind their back!”

  Bess made a face at him, then turned to go with Nancy and the others along a trail they had made to where the horses were tethered. They mounted and, following the stream that Bess had almost tumbled into, headed for Old Joe’s cabin.

  Old Joe hobbled out to meet them. “Heard you all coming,” he said. “You got some news for me?”

  “Exciting news,” Nancy told him.

  The young people took turns telling the naturalist what they had discovered. At the end of their tale, his eyes opened wide in astonishment.

  “You’ve done a magnificent job,” he said. “I don’t want to wait until my foot is entirely well before we move that tree. How about a couple of you going into town and phoning some lumberjacks to come up here and work on it?”

  Ned volunteered. “I’d be glad to go. Tell me who to call.”

  Old Joe limped back into the cabin and wrote down the name and address of a tree-removal service that Ned would find listed in the telephone book.

  “I’ll start for town as soon as I get back to camp,” Ned promised.

  Old Joe told Ned about a shortcut he could take from the cabin to the village.

  “Why not?” Ned replied.

  Burt offered to go with him. Before the two set off, Nancy said, “Old Joe, how much should Ned tell the lumberjacks to do?”

  The elderly man paused a moment. “First, he should let them turn the tree over so the Indian’s head shows up. Then the men ought to leave so you young folks can look at it.”

  “Will do,” Ned told him. He and Burt rode off.