The Secret of the Forgotten City

by Carolyn Keene

  She waved the note toward the group in the living room, and Ned came to her at once. He read the words quickly and gave orders to different friends to leave the house by the various exits. He would go out the front door.

  The group hurried away in all directions, and in less than a minute the house had been surrounded. Ned spotted a teen-age boy hidden behind thick bushes in front of the Drews’ brick home. He was holding a listening device against the house. Earphones were attached to the gadget.

  “Come and get him!” Ned yelled to his friends.

  Like lightning, he accosted the boy and took the instrument away from him. The youth glared at Ned.

  “Just who do you think you are?” the eavesdropper asked.

  “Never mind who I am. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  The boy sneered. “I don’t have to tell you anything. Let go of me. I’ve got my rights!”

  By this time Bess and Dave had run around the corner of the house and had come up to the boy. He stared at them malignantly.

  “Who is he?” Dave asked.

  “He won’t tell me,” Ned replied, “but maybe he’ll tell you.”

  “I’ll tell nobody anything,” the youth answered. “I got my rights. You have your nerve, grabbing hold of me.”

  Ned’s eyes blazed at the insolent youth. “I want to know why you think you have the right to be here with a listening device. Who put you up to that?”

  The boy refused to answer.

  In the meantime Mrs. Wabash was saying to Nancy, “My name while I’m staying here is Mrs. Mary Morton, and I’m from New York City.”

  Nancy giggled. “Is Mrs. Morton coming over here?”

  The Indian woman said she would not dare do so for fear of being seen and attacked again. “Could you and Ned possibly come to my place this evening?”

  “Of course.”

  As soon as Nancy finished her conversation with the Indian woman, she hurried out the front door.

  When Ned saw her, he said, “Here’s your wiretapper.”

  Nancy looked at the boy, whom she had never seen before, and asked him who he was. The youth refused to answer this or any other questions.

  “We’ll take him down to police headquarters,” Ned offered. “Unfortunately this wiretapping device is not a recorder, so we have no way of knowing how much of your conversation was heard.”

  Nancy heaved a great sigh. She was suddenly worried that the youth had heard about Mrs. Wabash’s new name and the substitution of the stone tablet!

  CHAPTER V

  The Fake Tablet

  As Nancy and her friends walked toward the front door, she said, “Instead of you boys taking this young man to the police, I’d rather hold him and ask the police to come here.”

  The others looked surprised, and the youth became angry. He shouted, “You can’t keep me here! I got my rights!”

  Ned spoke up. “You do not have the right to bug a person’s home unless you have permission from the proper judiciary.”

  The boy broke away from the front door but Ned, who was next to him, grabbed the youth and yanked him back. Glaring, the boy said no more, and they all walked into the living room and sat down. Nancy’s friends looked to her for an explanation of why she wanted to hold the suspect.

  “We have no legal right to frisk this boy,” she replied, “but the police do. It’s just possible he has a tape recorder hidden on him. If so, an officer can play it back. I’d like to hear what’s been recorded.”

  She went to phone Chief McGinnis. Within a few minutes, he arrived with one of his men. They advised the prisoner of his rights and started to frisk him. He objected violently and began to fight. But he was soon subdued.

  “Good guessing, Nancy,” the chief said. “Here’s a tape recorder in a pocket of his jacket.”

  The gadget was very small but efficient. The tape began with directions to Mozey from some man to spy on the Drew home. He was also to make a recording of any conversation he could pick up on the bugging device. Mozey had been told to bring it back to the boss.

  “Who is the boss?” the chief asked him.

  Silence.

  The tape continued with conversations inside the Drews’ house. Nancy held her breath for fear it would continue with Mrs. Wabash’s conversation. But it ended soon after the telephone had rung and Nancy had answered the call. The young detective was relieved that it had not revealed the Indian woman’s assumed name and temporary address.

  Ned said to the chief, “Nancy quickly scribbled a note instructing us to surround the house and hunt for a wiretapper.”

  The two officers smiled. The chief patted Nancy on the back and said, “Good work again.” He turned to the teen-age boy. “Come along, Mozey,” he ordered.

  The two officers left with their prisoner, taking the tape with them to use as evidence against him.

  “I feel positively weak.” Bess sighed. “What a day!”

  Nancy smiled. “You can rest while I start chipping the stone the boys brought.”

  She went upstairs to get her ski goggles so that none of the fine pieces of stone would fly into her eyes. The other young people watched her work and were amazed at the precision.

  First she took some hard white chalk and carefully drew the outlines of the petroglyphs on the new tablet. Since the pictures on the stone were very small, Nancy worked slowly and carefully. Presently she had finished a deer. A few minutes later she completed a shining sun instead of the rake symbol for rain.

  “Anybody else want to try this?” she asked.

  The only one who said yes was Dave. He was studying archaeology at Emerson College and could draw very well.

  He exchanged seats with Nancy and picked up the tools. Dave used the tiny hammer and the little chisel meticulously, and a few minutes later displayed the figure of a sheep.

  “They’re perfect imitations,” Ned observed. “Foxy Fleetfoot is sure going to be fooled.”

  Dave made one more figure, which looked like a cross. Then Nancy went back to work.

  There was an interruption. A phone call came from Chief McGinnis. He said that Mozey’s fingerprints had been found in their files.

  “His home is in Gadsby, not far from River Heights. The police there said he had a record of petty thievery, car stealing, and participation in gang war.

  “He’s on parole, which, of course, he has broken,” the officer added. “We’ll hold him here. By the way, he still refuses to give the name of his boss.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Nancy said. “Will you ask him if he was supposed to do an errand after sunset today for his boss.” She held the phone for a full five minutes before the chief returned.

  “I’m afraid my report is not much help,” he said. “Mozey still refuses to tell the name of the man for whom he’s been working. But when I asked him your question, he did look scared. I have a feeling he’s afraid of the boss, whoever he is, and that if he says anything, he’ll be punished by him.”

  Chief McGinnis promised to call Nancy if there were any new developments in the case.

  “And good luck on your project tonight,” he added, chuckling.

  Nancy returned to chipping, which she fin-. ished hours later.

  “Now comes the tricky part,” she announced to her friends.

  Bess giggled. “I’d say the whole thing is pretty tricky. What’s this little thing down in the corner?”

  “You remember the tiny lizard that I thought lighted up at one point?” Nancy answered.

  “Oh, you think that’s some kind of an identification mark?” Bess queried.

  Nancy nodded. “That’s why I didn’t change it from the original. If it’s on the other tablets, the ‘boss’ would notice at once that it was missing or changed.”

  “I see,” said Bess. “Is the stone ready to be delivered now?”

  “Oh no,” Nancy replied. “Next comes the aging process.”

  Bess looked puzzled. “But you have to deliver it this evening. That
doesn’t leave much time for aging.”

  Nancy laughed. She called to Ned, who had just finished watching the final scene of an exciting western movie.

  “Yes?” he said, reaching her side.

  Nancy asked if he would mind doing an errand. “I’m not sure where you can find gypsum, but try the lumberyard first. I want a little bit of it.”

  Ned grinned. “I won’t return until I have it.”

  The others asked what they could do to help.

  Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “Want a real dirty job?” she asked.

  “No thanks,” Bess replied promptly. “I have on one of my best suits, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  George gave her cousin a sidelong disapproving glance and said to Nancy, “How dirty is the job and what is it?”

  Nancy told her she needed some lampblack. “Since we don’t have any kerosene or oil lamps here, we’ll have to use something else. I suggest black soot from inside the fireplace chimney.”

  Burt stepped forward. “That sounds more like a man’s job,” he said. “How much do you need?”

  “Oh, three or four tablespoonfuls. Ask Hannah for an old dish and the scraper.”

  Burt went off to get the articles, then returned, took off his sweater, and rolled his shirtsleeves up to the shoulder.

  At that moment Hannah Gruen appeared in the doorway with a large cover-all apron. “Put this on,” she told the young man. Burt burst out laughing but obeyed.

  At once George said, “Nancy, where’s your camera? This picture is too good to miss.”

  “Up in my room,” Nancy replied. George rushed off to get it.

  Bess came forward. “Nancy, I don’t want to be a quitter. Isn’t there some clean job you can give me?”

  “Yes. Take some of this chalk out to the kitchen and crush it to a fine powder with a rolling pin.”

  By the time the chalk and the lampblack were ready, Ned returned with some finely powdered gypsum. The young people trooped into the kitchen. Nancy was carrying the tablet with her. Now she spread a newspaper on the kitchen table and mixed the three powders together. When they were well blended, she added lukewarm water, about a quarter of a teaspoonful at a time.

  George heaved a sigh. “Nancy, your patience is beyond me. Let’s get this job over with.”

  Nancy smiled but said nothing. When she had what she thought was the right consistency of paste, she smeared it over the top of the tablet, temporarily obliterating the petroglyphs.

  “This has to harden,” she explained. “Then I’ll turn the tablet over and do the other side. In the meantime, how about a little music? Bess, do you feel like playing the piano?”

  “Sure.”

  The young people gathered in the living room. Nancy opened her guitar case and asked who would like to play. The others insisted that she and Dave take turns.

  For the next half hour they sang old songs and new. Dave amused them with an original verse.

  “We’re off, we’re off

  To the Forgotten City.

  If we don’t find the treasure,

  It’ll be a p-i-t-y!”

  “I’ll say it will be,” George echoed.

  Presently, Nancy left the group to return to the kitchen. She felt the paste on the tablet and decided it was hard enough to turn the rock over and “antique” the underside. This took only a few minutes. Soon she was back with the group, but kept one eye on her watch.

  Exactly half an hour later, Nancy returned to the kitchen. This time the others followed and watched as she wiped off the paste. She saved it in case the stone needed another layer.

  “I guess it’s done,” she said. “Now for the polishing job.”

  She put a little wax on a cloth, went over the stone carefully until it matched the original. None of the “aging process” rubbed off!

  “That was a great job,” Ned said to her.

  The original and the new tablets were compared, and it was agreed that anyone except an expert on artifacts would be fooled by the substitution.

  The boys could hardly wait for the sun to set. As soon as it did, they left. Ned carried the new tablet, wrapped in brown paper. They rode partway to the old mine, then walked the rest of the distance from the highway.

  Ned was holding the package so it was prominently displayed. After a while he said, “I guess this is the right oak. Wow, it’s a whopper!”

  He laid the tablet on the ground beside it; then the boys started walking back to the main road.

  In the meantime, Nancy, Bess, and George had followed in Nancy’s convertible. When they reached the old road that led into the mine, Nancy started up the overgrown dirt path. She stopped the car, and they waited. There was a slight jog in the road, so the girls got out and walked ahead in order to see better.

  “There’s not a sound,” Bess whispered.

  Presently they spotted their friends coming from the old oak and starting along the road. Suddenly, and without any warning, a gang of boys, who apparently had been hiding behind trees, jumped the three Emerson boys and viciously started to beat them up!

  CHAPTER VI

  The Dangerous Hole

  THOUGH taken off guard, the three football players from Emerson fought well against the attacking gang. Ned heaved one of them to the ground in a football tackle. Burt held two of them and cracked their heads together. Dave got one young gangster around the waist and pitched him off in a somersault.

  Bess was screaming, “Stop! Stop!”

  The hoodlums paid no attention, and the girls could see that the ratio of ten fighters to three was overwhelming.

  “I’m going in there to help!” George declared, and she started forward.

  Both Bess and Nancy held her back.

  George struggled to get away. “I want to try some judo on a couple of those fellows!”

  “Don‘t!” Bess shrieked. “They’ll—they’ll make mincemeat of you!”

  Nancy said quickly, “Let me try something else first. I have a police whistle with me. It may scare them!”

  She pulled the whistle from her pocket and blew a shrill blast on it. The effect was instantaneous. The attacking gang, apparently thinking the police had arrived, scattered in all directions.

  Ned, Burt, and Dave looked startled. The blast on the whistle had been so unexpected and authoritative, that they too had stopped fighting. The girls now hurried toward them.

  “Who blew that whistle?” Burt asked.

  The three girls burst into laughter, and Nancy admitted that she had. “It’s the first time I ever tried to play policeman, but I must say it worked.”

  “Yes,” Bess added. “I never saw people run away so fast in my life.”

  The three boys laughed, and Dave declared, “From now on I’m going to carry a police whistle in my pocket, too.”

  Nancy grinned. “This isn’t an authentic police whistle,” she said. “You can buy one like this in any toy store, but if you blow hard enough on it you can really make a loud noise.”

  “I’ll say,” Ned agreed.

  Suddenly the stillness was broken by a shout from the woods. The young people were afraid that the gang, realizing they had been tricked, were coming back to fight again. Nancy and her friends stood silently for a few moments, but no one showed up.

  “Who was that?” Bess asked.

  There was another shout, and then a voice called out, “You won this time, but watch out. We’re friends of the guy you put in jail. We’ll get you yet!”

  After that there was silence. The group remained where they were for nearly a minute.

  Finally Ned said he wanted to see whether the package was still at the old oak tree.

  “Yes it is,” he called out. “Right where I laid it.”

  George spoke up. “So the gang was not really after the package. They followed us only to punish you boys for having their friend arrested.”

  The young people returned to the two cars. Nancy and Ned climbed into her convertible. Ned took the wheel and they set
off for the Drew home. The rest of the group rode directly behind.

  By this time, nightfall had come and the moon was shining brightly. Presently Nancy detected a moving shadow among the trees. She asked Ned to stop and signal the other car to halt.

  “Look over there!” she said, pointing out the window.

  A tall lanky boy was warily hiking in the direction of the old mine. The next second he disappeared.

  Nancy and her friends got out of the cars and watched for a few minutes, but did not see the youth again. They could still see the old oak tree. No one was near it.

  Finally Nancy spoke. “I believe something happened to that boy. He must have fallen and knocked himself out, or perhaps he slipped into an old mine hole.”

  Thoroughly alarmed, the young people went toward the spot where the boy had disappeared, holding their flashlights.

  “Watch out for a trap!” Ned warned.

  The searchers walked carefully, surveying every inch of the ground before they walked over it.

  “Listen!” Nancy said suddenly. “I think I heard a cry for help.”

  Her friends stopped short and waited for another call. There was no doubt about it when another feeble plea came.

  “Help! Help!”

  The group swung their flashlights around but could see no one. Nancy walked forward.

  “I’d say that cry came from down below. Let’s look for a hole.”

  The group crept forward, and presently George said, “I see it!” She played her light on the spot.

  A tangled mass of vines had apparently covered the opening. Now they were broken. Flashlights were beamed down into the hole. It was deep.

  “Help! Get me out of here!” a frantic voice cried.

  “We’ll try,” Nancy shouted.

  She examined the hole and found a rickety wooden ladder on one side. The girl detective beamed her strong light straight down into the hole and could see the lanky young man lying on the ground.

  “Climb up the ladder,” Nancy told him. “I’ll guide you with the light.”

  “I—I can’t do it. My arm’s broken. It’s no use.”

  “Then I’ll come down and help you,” Nancy offered.