Chapter 11 The Phantom of Pine Hill by Carolyn Keene
Treasure Hunters
Breakfast was ready, so Mrs. Holman called down to Nancy from the top of the cellar stairs. There was no answer. She called more loudly, but still there was no response.
“Whatever is Nancy doing?” the housekeeper wondered.
At that moment Bess and George came into the kitchen. She asked them to try their luck getting the young sleuth to come up and eat.
“Nancy! N-A-N-C-Y!”
When they received no reply, the two girls went downstairs to find their friend. To their surprise, she was not in sight. They kept calling and investigating each storage closet. Finally they came to the closed door of the workshop.
“Nancy must be in there,” said George, and gave the door a yank. It would not open.
George called loudly through the crack. Nancy did not answer, and suddenly Bess went ash white. “Oh, I’m sure something has happened to her!”
“She must be in the room behind this door,” George said grimly. “The question is, did she lock it or did someone else?”
Tears began to roll down Bess’s cheeks. “The phantom carried out his threat! She’s a prisoner!”
George set her jaw grimly. “We must get inside!”
There was no lock on the door, so the girls assumed it must be fastened on the inside. They tried ramming their bodies against it, but the heavy wooden door would not budge.
By this time Mrs. Holman had descended the steps. Upon hearing what Bess and George suspected, she instantly became alarmed.
“How can we get in here?” Bess asked.
“I don’t know. That’s an old workshop and there’s a heavy wooden bar that locks it on the inside.”
Bess said, “I’m sure Nancy didn’t lock herself in. Oh, maybe she is l-lying in there injured!”
“Maybe not,” said the housekeeper, trying to be calm. “Sometimes when that door swings shut, the big bar inside falls into place. If Nancy was hammering on the walls, the vibration could have made the door close. But Nancy should be able to raise the bar.”
“And why doesn’t she answer us?” Bess wailed.
George said, “Mrs. Holman, do you have a big hammer handy?”
“There’s one in the kitchen. I’ll get it.”
She vanished up the stairway but returned in half a minute with the hammer. George swung it heftily, trying to knock off the heavy old-time hinges. They were so deeply embedded in the wood that she could make no impression.
Bess spoke up, her voice trembling, “Mrs. Holman, is there a window from the outside that opens into that workshop?”
The housekeeper shook her head. “There’s no entrance to that room except from here.”
“Have you a thin saw that we could put through this crack?” George asked.
“I think so. I’ll look.”
Five minutes elapsed before Mrs. Holman came downstairs and handed a dull, rusty saw to George. The girl wedged it through the crack. She could feel the obstructing wooden bar, but though she tried hard, George could not saw through it.
Bess complained, “Oh, why can’t we do something?”
“Crying won’t help any,” George said severely to her cousin. “Put on your thinking cap!”
Chastened, Bess thought quickly and said, “Why don’t we get a hatchet or an ax and hack down the door?”
“Now you’re using your head,” said George. “Mrs. Holman, can you produce one of those tools?”
The housekeeper was not sure but said she would look in the garage. Fortunately she found a sharp ax. George grabbed it in both hands, gave a mighty heave, and landed it on the door. There was a distinct sound of cracking wood.
Twice more she aimed at the same spot. On the third try the ax crashed all the way through. There was an opening large enough for her to put her hand through and raise the bar.
Bess pulled the door open, then gave a shriek. Across the room Nancy lay on the floor unconscious, a heavy door partly covering her body. Beyond was a gaping hole to the garden!
Mrs. Holman and the two girls rushed over to Nancy. As Bess and George lifted the door away, Mrs. Holman knelt down and felt the girl’s pulse. At that moment Nancy stirred.
“She’s coming around!” the housekeeper said.
“Thank goodness!” Bess murmured. She crouched and ran her fingers through Nancy’s hair. “Oh, Nancy darling, whatever happened to you?”
Her friend did not reply. It was several minutes before she opened her eyes and looked around. She seemed to be in a daze.
“I’ll get some water,” Mrs. Holman offered.
The soothing cool water soon revived Nancy and in halting tones she told what had happened to her.
“Do you think the phantom did it?” Bess asked Nancy.
“No. There was no one in this room.”
Mrs. Holman said she thought Nancy should go upstairs and lie down. “I’m going to ask the university doctor to come in and examine you,” she stated.
Nancy was sure she would be all right. “I’m just a bit bruised.” But the housekeeper insisted.
She put an arm around Nancy to help her upstairs. At the housekeeper’s suggestion, Bess and George stayed behind to set the hidden door in place. For the first time they noticed how unusual the outside of it was. Very thin pieces of stone had been wedged into the wood. When the door was in place, it would look as if it were part of the foundation. The two girls searched, but they found nothing to indicate that the door could be opened from the outside.
“I’ll bet it was for escape in case of Indian attack,” George remarked, as the girls walked to the kitchen stairway. The cousins found Nancy in the living room, resting on the couch. After they told her about the camouflaged door, she said, “Anyway, the phantom didn’t use it. That door hadn’t been opened in years!”
Within fifteen minutes Dr. Smith arrived and with him, Ned Nickerson, whom he had called, knowing that Ned was a special friend.
Ned rushed up to Nancy, a look of deep concern on his face. “Thank goodness you weren’t killed!” he exclaimed.
Dr. Smith came to the girl’s side. “Oh tush! Miss Drew looks far from killed!”
He insisted that Nancy go upstairs, where he would make a thorough examination. The others waited tensely. Although Nancy had seemed all right, they knew how brave she was and that she might be hiding some really serious trouble so as not to worry her friends.
Mrs. Holman asked if any of them would like to eat, but they shook their heads. Bess managed a wry smile. “For once in my life I’ve lost my appetite.”
When Dr. Smith came downstairs, Ned and the girls jumped up eagerly. “How is she?” they asked in unison.
The physician smiled. “I’m glad to give you a good report. No broken bones. A few bruises, but so far as I can determine, she suffered no serious injuries. I want Miss Drew to stay in bed at least until tomorrow morning. She didn’t like it much when I told her this, because it seems she had great plans for the day.”
“I’m sure they can wait,” said Mrs. Holman.
“May we see her and can she eat breakfast?” Bess asked quickly.
“I suggest that you give her one hour by herself. It’s a shock to the system when one gets knocked out. Miss Drew will make a quick comeback, I’m sure, but sleep will help her. As for eating, only a light diet today.”
Keeping as quiet as possible, they sat down and ate their own breakfast. Bess and George briefed Ned on what the young detective had been doing when the accident happened.
“Another false clue,” George said with a sigh.
“We must get that secret door nailed shut,” said Mrs. Holman, “so the phantom can’t use it.” Ned volunteered to do the job. After finishing it, he left.
At the end of the doctor’s prescribed hour, the girls went to Nancy’s room. She was awake and demanded something to eat.
“Coming right up!” said George, delighted that color had returned to her friend’s face and once more her eyes were sparkling.
She went downstairs to get orange juice, a soft-boiled egg, and some toast. When she returned, Nancy suggested that Bess and George go to chapel. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’m perfectly all right. Take my car.”
Bess and George followed her suggestion. They quickly freshened up, took off their slacks, and put on dresses. A few minutes later they were on their way to chapel.
Presently Mrs. Holman came upstairs and Nancy said to her, “Early tomorrow morning I’m going to that Indian village shown on the map. I just can’t wait to do a little investigating there.” She was sorry that the boys would have to study the next day and could not accompany them.
The following morning Nancy felt fully recovered. As soon as she and her friends could get away after breakfast, they started for the Indian village, taking digging tools with them. They walked to the cove, then followed the direction indicated on the ancient map. Finally they came to a clearing which Nancy figured had once been the site of a thriving community. Here and there on the landscape were large weed-covered humps.
“What were they for?” Bess asked.
“It’s my guess,” Nancy said, “that those were the clay ovens where the Indians baked their bread. Now the weeds have taken over.”
After hunting around awhile, the girls picked up a few arrowheads, but outside of this evidence there was nothing to indicate there had ever been a tribal settlement at this spot.
“We came to find a treasure and maybe a lost wedding dress,” Bess reminded the others. “I’m sure we’re never going to in this place.”
The other girls were not so sure. George said, “If you were an Indian, where would you hide a treasure?”
Nancy thought a few moments, then answered, “In a sacred place where other Indians would be too superstitious to touch it.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Bess agreed. “I’ve read that the sacred building or ground in an Indian village was sometimes right in the center.”
“That’s true,” said Nancy. She walked around and finally picked a spot which might have been the center of the village. “Let’s start digging here.”
As they picked up their tools, the girls became aware of a young man walking toward them. He was Fred Jenkins.
“So you’re digging for Indian relics, eh?” he asked. “I have a message for you, Miss Nancy,” he said.
“For me? From whom?” she asked.
“Your father. He called up and I wrote it out. I thought I’d better get it to you right away.” He handed a small sheet of paper to Nancy.
Written on it was a badly spelled message. Nancy caught her breath as she read:
“I need you at home at once. Hannah Green is very ill.”