The Secret of the Forgotten City, Page 2

“What is the thing you saw?” Bess asked.

  Nancy shrugged and said she would get a book on wild animal life in the southwestern United States. Presently she came to the conclusion that what she had thought was an arachnid was a chuckwalla, a sixteen-inch lizard, which was harmless, although it looked menacing. She reported this to her friends.

  “Here’s something amazing about it,” Nancy said. “The chuckwalla can wedge itself into a crevice and then inflate its body. This makes it almost impossible for an enemy to drag the creature out. By the way, it says here that at one time the chuckwalla was used as food by the Indians.”

  “Maybe,” George said, “there was a group who called themselves the Chuckwalla Tribe.”

  Afterward, Nancy begged her friends to tell her more about the trip they had planned. Ned explained that it would be a caravan.

  “There’ll be trucks, cars, Land Rovers, and even a whole kitchen on a truck chassis.”

  George grinned and looked at Bess. “That’s the place for you, cousin. You can cook all the goodies you want.”

  “Okay,” Bess retorted. “I’ll fix you. I’ll make a tasty dish just for you and fill it with red peppers!”

  The others laughed, and Burt remarked, “I guess that will hold you for a while, George.”

  At that moment the young people heard a car turn into the driveway. Mr. Drew was arriving home. In a few minutes the tall, attractive lawyer entered the living room and greeted Nancy and her friends.

  When he heard how Nancy had received advance information about the treasure hunt, he laughed. But his smile turned to a frown a little later, when he was told about Fleetfoot Joe and his attack on Mrs. Wabash.

  “I’m sorry to hear this,” he said. “Nancy, of course you’ve notified the police.”

  “Yes, Dad. They promised to call if there were any leads on the thief, but I haven’t heard from them.”

  Ten minutes later Hannah Gruen came into the living room and announced dinner. Everyone went into the dining room, where the housekeeper had set a lovely table.

  Nancy gave the motherly housekeeper a hug. “Now I know why you wouldn’t let me in the kitchen,” she said. “How attractively you’ve arranged the flowers! And what a delicious-looking salad!”

  This was to be the first course. After everyone was seated, Mr. Drew said grace, then the meal started.

  The group was about halfway through dinner when Togo began to bark frantically. He raced from the kitchen through the dining room and into the living room. Here he jumped onto a chair and gave a series of short, quick barks. Then he ran to the front door and barked again insistently. Nancy left her chair and followed him.

  “What’s the matter, Togo?” she asked. “Do you hear another dog outside, or is somebody at the door?”

  The bell had not rung, but Nancy opened the door and let Togo out. Seeing no one, she was puzzled and ran after Togo.

  Suddenly a man’s voice cried out from the darkness, “Don’t follow me! And call off your dog, or I’ll shoot him!”

  CHAPTER III

  Vanished Guests

  WHISTLING loudly and clearly, Nancy hoped Togo would hear her and come back. She called his name, clapped her hands, and whistled some more. The little terrier did not return.

  Suddenly she heard a shot. Nancy’s heart sank. Had the dreadful man carried out his threat?

  “Oh, it just can’t be true!” she told herself. Again she called loudly, “Togo! Togo! Where are you?”

  By this time Nancy’s friends and Mr. Drew had rushed outdoors. They could not see Nancy but could hear her, and set off in the direction from which the sounds came. Finally they reached her.

  “What happened? What’s up?” Ned asked.

  Quickly Nancy explained and there were murmurs of anger and sympathy. Ned and George had brought flashlights, and now everyone searched for footprints. Apparently the fugitive had been standing in mud, and it was easy to follow the indentations left by his shoes. Right beside them were Togo’s tiny prints. The group hurried on. Finally all the impressions ended at a main road.

  Mr. Drew said, “The man must have entered a car here.”

  Bess’s eyes were filled with tears. “Do you think he took Togo with him?”

  The lawyer said he had no idea, but there was one thing of which he was sure: up to this point the dog had not been shot.

  “Let’s hope,” said Bess, “that the man didn’t take Togo away and kill him somewhere else.”

  It was a doleful group that walked back to the Drew home. Hannah had prepared a delicious apple-snow pudding with raspberry sauce. Everyone ate it, though there was little conversation.

  When everybody had finished, Nancy said she wanted to examine the man’s footprints. From a casual first glance at them, she was sure they would match those that had been left before by Fleetfoot.

  Mr. Drew said, “After you do that, I think we’d better call the police, especially if the footprints do match those in our yard.”

  All the young people went outdoors, some to follow Nancy and the others to look at the prints at the rear of the Drew home.

  “There are good impressions near the hedge,” Nancy told the group, as she beamed her flashlight on the latest series. She was convinced they belonged to the same man, Fleetfoot Joe.

  “I’ll call headquarters,” Nancy said, “and ask if there’s any report on Fleetfoot.”

  When she reached the phone, Nancy changed her mind and called Chief McGinnis at home instead of headquarters. He was astounded at the latest bit of news and angry about the dog’s disappearance and possible death.

  “We have no leads yet on Fleetfoot,” he told Nancy, “but my men are working on it. Up to now we assumed he had skipped town, but evidently he’s still around. What do you think he wants?”

  “I believe,” Nancy replied, “he’s looking for the one tablet he did not take from Mrs. Wabash’s bag. We have it here.”

  During Nancy’s telephone conversation, her friends scoured the neighborhood in all directions. It was possible that Togo had been shot just before the man got into the car and was trying to make his way home. After a twenty-minute search they returned to the house and reported failure.

  Bess put an arm around Nancy. “This is dreadful, but don’t give up hope. You know Togo is a very smart little dog. Let’s hope that somehow he gets away from Fleetfoot.”

  Nancy smiled and gave Bess a hug. “Thanks. You’re sweet to be so concerned.”

  The girl detective felt that with Fleetfoot still in the area, Mrs. Wabash might be in danger. She decided to alert the woman to the possibility. She dialed the motel where Mrs. Wabash was staying and was shocked at the reply she received from the operator there.

  “Mrs. Wabash checked out and left no forwarding address.”

  Nancy was surprised that the Indian woman would leave without telling her, but perhaps she had received some message from home and had decided to go back at once. Nancy tried to learn from the desk clerk and the porter whether or not Mrs. Wabash had made a plane reservation.

  “No, she didn’t,” was the reply.

  She had scarcely put down the receiver, when Nancy heard aggressive barking at the front door. She literally leaped across the hall and flung the front door open. Her little terrier jumped into his mistress’s arms.

  “Oh, you’re safe! You weren’t shot after all!” she cried out, hugging her pet.

  His response was to lick her cheeks, then jump out of her arms and race toward the kitchen.

  Hannah greeted him with a joyful, “Togo! You’re back! And you want something to eat. Well, I certainly think you deserve it.”

  Everyone had followed the little dog into the kitchen and George remarked, “If Togo could only talk!”

  Suddenly Nancy leaned down and looked at the dog’s collar. “Here’s a note!” she told the others. Quickly she opened it, read the message, then reread it aloud:

  Leave stone with pictures by old oak tree at entrance of abandoned mine in Ironto
n after sunset tomorrow.

  “So Fleetfoot was here to get the plaque!” Nancy exclaimed.

  Hannah beamed at Togo. “And this little fellow scared him away.”

  Nancy asked her father what he thought they should do about the note. He felt that it should not be ignored and suggested they contact Chief McGinnis. Once more Nancy dialed the officer’s home and spoke to him.

  Upon hearing the message, he chuckled. “You work fast on your mysteries, Nancy Drew,” he commented. “Let me see, now. I guess the best thing would be to play along with this fellow. Suppose you find a stone about the same size as the tablet and wrap it up in a package. I’ll send a plainclothesman for it tomorrow afternoon.”

  At once Nancy told him that Ned, Burt, and Dave were at the house. “Couldn’t they leave the package?” she asked.

  Once more the man chuckled. “Well you’ve made pretty good detectives of them, I admit,” the chief said. “All right, you do it that way and let me know what happens.”

  After hanging up, Nancy had a sudden idea and she said to her friends, “If we give the thief a plain stone, he’ll know right away we didn’t carry out his wishes, and will probably return to do us more harm. Why don’t we try to please him and yet frustrate him?”

  George wanted to know how Nancy intended to do this.

  The young detective smiled. “Evidently the series of tablets tell an important story, and perhaps even give directions to the treasure. One wrong link in the chain of pictures might spoil the whole thing.”

  Mr. Drew, who was in the background, listening, grinned. “An excellent idea, Nancy,” he said. “What do you have in mind? Carving some petroglyphs?”

  Nancy replied, “Exactly.” She turned to the boys. “Tomorrow morning, would you mind hunting for a stone that looks like the one here?”

  The boys agreed and took a good look at the tablet. Nancy found a short ruler and measured the length, width, and thickness of the stone.

  Bess remarked, “This old tablet is quite reddish. Do you think you can find anything that color around here?”

  Mr. Drew answered the question. “Over in the next county the earth and the stones are quite red. I suggest you go there.”

  In a short while the boys left with Bess and George to return to their homes for the night. Nancy and Ned stayed up for another hour while she made a careful drawing of the tablet that belonged to Mrs. Wabash. Then she began designing a new set of petroglyphs to put on the stone the boys would bring.

  When the drawings were finished, Ned laughed. “That’s misleading all right,” he said. “You’ve turned a sheep into a goat, rain into sunshine, and a long line turning to the right directly to the left.”

  Both young people began to yawn. Nancy picked up all her work and headed for the stairs. “I’ll finish this tomorrow.”

  Ned kissed her good night and said, “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Ned. Sweet dreams.”

  Soon after breakfast the following day, Ned set off to pick up Burt and Dave. In a short time George and Bess arrived at the Drew home.

  Up in her room Nancy showed them the drawings she had made for the new tablet.

  “It’s so much like the other and yet so different,” Bess remarked.

  “The whole thing, I hope,” said Nancy, “will portray a misleading story to be put on the stone the boys will bring.”

  Bess looked at the work, then asked, “Would you mind explaining to me what all this means? It’s worse than a jigsaw puzzle.”

  Nancy smiled. “Part of this is guesswork, of course, but here’s my interpretation of the original story.”

  CHAPTER IV

  The Wiretapper

  BESS and George sat on the floor in Nancy’s bedroom and waited for the young detective to tell her story. She held up the drawing and pointed.

  “You see this big man here? I believe he was the leader of a group represented on this plaque. You’ll notice he has something on his head that could be a fancy headdress. I understand that in ancient times the leader always covered his head to indicate this rank.”

  Bess interrupted to ask, “And this string of smaller people, who are they?”

  Nancy’s guess was that they might be his family or his servants.

  George remarked that some of the human figures wore skirts. “Did women wear skirts thousands of years ago?”

  “Apparently,” Nancy replied. “I read some place that the skirt was really like a working outfit. It may have had pockets or loops through which cooking utensils could be slipped.”

  Bess began to giggle. “Imagine carrying a stone fork and spoon around with you for cooking!”

  George added, “To stir up venison stew, flavored with some bitter tree roots. Probably better for you, Bess, than that sweet, gooey gravy you make out of chicken-leg gelatin and honey.”

  Nancy laughed, then said, “Venison is delicious if you have good strong teeth!”

  She now continued with her guess about the meaning of the petroglyphs on Mrs. Wabash’s tablet. “Whether it was the weather or the long trek or some other reason, I believe a great many members of the tribe became ill or died. This is indicated by the figures in the line who are lying on the ground.

  “Then too some of them may have been attacked by wild beasts or poisonous scorpions or vicious birds. Here are pictures of all three. This is a bucking ram. Over there is a huge raven. And down here is a rock scorpion.”

  George asked, “Are there any poisonous scorpions?”

  “According to this animal book, yes,” Nancy replied. “They have slender tails and are yellow in color. It says here that the poison causes pain over one’s entire body.”

  “Ugh!” said Bess. Then she asked, “How does a scorpion sting anyone?”

  Again Nancy referred to the book and read, “The sting is located at the end of the tail. It consists of a very sharp, curved tip attached to a bulbous organ. This organ contains glands that secrete poison. It’s like a poison reservoir.”

  Bess looked alarmed. “And we’re going to find scorpions out at our campsite in Nevada?”

  “Sure thing,” George replied. “If you get bitten, it’ll be a long walk for you back to town to a doctor. And of course the rest of us will be too busy to drive you there.”

  “You’re horrid,” said Bess, tossing her head. “Just the same, I don’t want a scorpion to bite me!”

  Nancy interrupted George’s kidding to say that the article explained what could be done for a scorpion sting.

  “First you tie a tourniquet near the puncture between the sting and the victim’s heart. Then put an ice pack over the sting. Even better than that, fill a vessel with half ice and half water, and have the person completely submerge the stung area.”

  “Please, no more,” Bess begged.

  Nancy changed the subject and went on with her story about the tablet. “See this symbol that looks like a rake? Mrs. Wabash said it is supposed to indicate rain, probably heavy rain.”

  “I see it,” said Bess. “Maybe these poor people were lost in a flood.”

  “That’s possible,” Nancy agreed. “At one time there must have been plenty of rain because this whole area was very lush and in places quite swampy.”

  George was skeptical of this. “How can they tell that?” she asked.

  Nancy said mainly through the trees. “In the Valley of Fire in the desert outside of Las Vegas, there are pieces of petrified trees. They had to be submerged in water with chemicals in it for a long, long time before they became petrified.

  “Also, by reading the rings on tree trunks, as you know, one can count the age of a tree because each ring represents a year. If the rings are wide that means there was plenty of water. If they’re very narrow, there’s been a drought.

  “Apparently in the place where we’re going to camp, the vegetation went from very green and watery, probably millions of years ago, to less and less rainfall. The result was that by ten thousand B.C., streams slowly began to d
ry up. Finally the area became a desert.”

  George asked, “What are these lines for?” She pointed. “They look like steps with no sides or support.”

  Nancy nodded. “I think it represents a stone stairway chiseled out of the rock by the people who lived at a certain spot. George, do you know what this means? The steps might even lead down to that buried golden treasure!”

  George grinned. “Don’t get carried away, Nancy.”

  Bess interrupted. “Here come the boys.”

  The three girls raced downstairs, and each asked, “Did you find anything?”

  Burt took a slab of rock out of his pocket. It was a perfect specimen for Nancy to use for a substitute stone.

  “That’s great!” she exclaimed. “You boys are going to be wonderful at the dig in the Nevada desert.”

  “Hope you’re right,” Ned replied.

  He took a package tied in cloth from a bag he was carrying.

  “Here are some up-to-date chipping tools for you to use, Nancy. But, really, it isn’t fair. You should chip as the ancient Indians did, with a sharp stone.”

  Nancy laughed. “I’m afraid I was born too late for that! Anyway, it would take too long, and we must hurry.”

  Before beginning her work, she studied the series of pictures she had drawn. Some of the figures were like the original but several had been changed. Among these were the stone steps. She had substituted pointed spikes joined by lines.

  Nancy heard the phone ring. In a couple of minutes Hannah Gruen came to tell her that Mrs. Wabash was calling.

  “Good!” the girl sleuth exclaimed as she left the room.

  Mrs. Wabash said she had been threatened while staying at the motel and had been in touch with the police. They in turn had advised her to move out inconspicuously and to leave no forwarding address.

  “I thought of returning home immediately,” the Indian woman said, “but I wanted to see you again and talk over several things. I have taken a room in a private home. It’s very secluded.”

  The thought rushed through Nancy’s head that her own home might be bugged, and she had better find out.

  Quickly she wrote on a pad, “Surround the house in case of a wiretapper.”