The Witch Tree Symbol

by Carolyn G. Keene

  “Oh!” Nancy gasped, as the driver of the car, almost upon the dog, put on a burst of speed, and headed directly for Togo.

  Before Nancy could act, the car hit the terrier and the dog gave a yelp of paint

  “Togo!” Nancy cried, running to her pet as the car flashed past. The animal was whining and yelping pitifully. Nancy feared that he had been seriously injured.

  Leaning over to examine the dog, she noticed a long cut on his hip, but there were no other marks. Just then Togo stood up, shook himself and licked her hand. The beloved pet would be all right!

  Nancy carried the dog inside and bathed his cut with antiseptic. “That driver deliberately tried to kill Togo!” she told Hannah. “I was so frightened that I forgot to look at him or his license number.”

  Hannah frowned. “Nancy, perhaps that hex symbol means business,” she declared.

  “Oh, Hannah, people today don’t believe in hexes or witches or spells.” Nancy smiled. “And the hex signs that were once used to ward off witches are now decorations on barns and other places. Some people even use them inside their homes.”

  “Maybe, but I think you should give up the trip,” Hannah persisted. “Let the police worry about the robbery. You stay home.”

  “Why, Hannah, I couldn’t do that when I’ve promised to help Mrs. Tenney,” Nancy protested. “Besides, I want a chance to practice my German in Pennsylvania Dutch country!” She smiled.

  Mr. Drew, who had been talking on the second-floor telephone, now joined them. He was relieved to learn that Togo was all right.

  Hannah told him she was worried about Nancy, but the lawyer did not share her point of view.

  “As to the hex business, we are intelligent people and don’t believe in witchcraft. If Nancy is careful, I think it will be safe for her to make the trip.”

  The young detective was preparing to leave the next morning when a special delivery letter arrived for her.

  “Trouble,” Hannah Gruen predicted gloomily.

  The envelope was postmarked Montville, a town about twenty miles from River Heights. Nancy quickly tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. On it was the strange hex symbol. Underneath the witch tree was a boldly printed warning: STAY HOME!

  CHAPTER III

  Chust for Pretty

  NANCY was excited but not alarmed. If the letter was from the thief, he knew she was going to Pennsylvania Dutch country. Montville was en route to Lancaster. She hoped this meant that she had correctly figured his destination.

  “I’m not frightened by this note,” Nancy said when Hannah again urged her to stay home. She kissed the housekeeper good-by and drove off in her convertible.

  In a few minutes she reached the home of pretty, blond, blue-eyed Bess Marvin. She was eager to begin the trip.

  “Pennsylvania Dutch cooking is famous!” she exclaimed. “What meals we’ll have!”

  Trim, dark-haired George Fayne, who lived nearby, climbed into the car soon afterward. “Grand day, isn’t it?” she said with gusto. “August weather’s great for a vacation.”

  “And perfect weather for solving a mystery.” Nancy laughed.

  “Tell us about it,” Bess begged. “I hope it’s not a dangerous one,” she added.

  As they rode along, Nancy told the story. Bess became concerned. She shivered when she heard of the hex symbol. “Do you believe in it?” she asked.

  Nancy assured her she did not. “But,” she declared, “I understand there are some people in the back country of Pennsylvania who still think, it’s possible to hex people.”

  Several hours later, the girls began to notice hex signs on the barns they passed. Even Bess had to admit that the various circular designs, using birds, stars, and crosses, were very colorful and attractive. Seeing a farmer coming from a large red barn, Nancy stopped the car. After chatting a moment, she asked him about the designs’ true significance.

  The burly man smiled and replied, “It’s chust for pretty.”

  “It’s not part of a superstition?” Bess asked.

  The man shook his head. “No. Chust to make pretty the barn. But some folks think it is to chase witches. That is foolish, ain’t?”

  The girls nodded, thanked him, and drove on.

  George laughed. “He had a quaint way of speaking. We may have some trouble understanding what people say in these parts.”

  Nancy agreed. “And if we don’t understand, I think we’d better tell the speaker.”

  As the girls rode through methodically planned, beautiful farm country, they saw straight green fields of corn, as well as potatoes and tobacco. Weedless vegetable gardens were surrounded by neat borders of flowers—cockscomb, begonia, and geranium bloomed in profusion.

  “Where is Mr. Alpha Zinn’s home?” George asked.

  “Beyond Lancaster, in the part where the Amish live.”

  “Tell us more about them,” Bess requested.

  Nancy said that Mrs. Tenney had explained that there were two types of Amish, the Church Amish, who are comparatively modern and own automobiles and electrical appliances, and the House Amish, who are very strict and do not believe in using any of these “fancy” things.

  After lunch, the girls reached the outskirts of Lancaster. Nancy consulted a map. “I think this is the side road that leads to Mr. Zinn’s farmhouse,” she said. “Mrs. Tenney gave me rather general directions. Let’s try it.”

  They had not gone more than a mile down the road when the car began to lurch, forcing Nancy to slow down.

  “That’s funny,” she said, frowning. “I have plenty of gasoline, so that’s not the trouble.”

  Suddenly the motor died and the car chugged to a stop. The friends looked about in dismay. There was not a house in sight—nothing but open fields.

  Nancy got out, raised the hood of the car, and looked for loose or broken wires. She could find none. “We’re really stuck!” she announced.

  “The hex is already working,” Bess wailed. “Now a spell has been put on our car!”

  Nancy laughed. “If so, I won’t let the spell work long. We’ll eliminate it, I promise you.”

  “I suppose the best thing to do,” George said, “is to wait for a car to come along and give one of us a ride into town to find a mechanic.”

  Nancy agreed. “Especially if the farms nearby happen to belong to House Amish families,” she said. “They won’t know anything about cars.”

  Ten minutes went by, but no vehicle appeared. Suddenly George called out, “Here comes someone!”

  The others glanced up the road. An Amish woman, wearing a black dress that reached the top of her high shoes, a black bonnet, and a white shoulder kerchief and apron, walked slowly toward them.

  “Perhaps she knows somebody who can help us,” Bess suggested.

  To the girls’ surprise, as the figure came closer, they could see that she was very young—probably no more than sixteen years old.

  Nancy hastened toward the girL “Hello,” she said. “Our car won’t run. Could you tell us where we might have it fixed?”

  The Amish girl was very pretty, with large brown eyes and long lashes. She smiled sweetly at Nancy.

  “I am so sorry about the car,” she said. “You are visitors here, ain’t?”

  Nancy gave her name and added that she was from River Heights. She introduced the cousins.

  “I am Manda Kreutz,” the girl told them. “I am walking from Lancaster.”

  “Lancaster?” George repeated. “That’s more than ten miles from here.”

  Manda nodded. “It is good to walk,” she said, “and I know short cuts across the fields.” Then her face clouded. “I am returning to my home, but my father—maybe he will not take me back.”

  The girls were startled by this announcement. They also were curious to know what Manda Kreutz meant, but they did not want to embarrass her by asking for an explanation.

  Apparently Manda decided to trust the three friendly visitors, as she explained, “We are Amish
and my father is very strict. When I finished eighth grade, he wanted me to stay home and work on the farm. But I wanted to study more and learn about the world.”

  She had decided recently that perhaps this was wrong. Life was good on an Amish farm and there was never any want.

  “But I did not appreciate this,” she said. “I ran away from home three months ago and went to Lancaster. In the daytime I worked in a bakery and evenings I attended night school.”

  Wistfully she added, “But I miss my people. And yet I am so afraid my father will not let me live on the farm any more.”

  The three girls assured Manda that everything would probably work out, and wished her the best of luck. Nancy again asked her if she knew anyone nearby who might repair the car.

  “Yes,” the Amish girl replied. “Rudolph can help you. He is on a farm a mile from here.”

  Manda offered to stop there and ask him to bring his tool kit. Nancy thanked her, but said she would walk along with Manda and talk to Rudolph herself. Also, she was eager to learn more about the Amish people and their customs. Bess and George decided to remain with the car.

  As the Amish girl and Nancy hurried along the road, Manda talked freely about her problem. “Papa is afraid if I learn too much I will not be an Amish woman any longer. But he is wrong. I might not be so strict as he is. We have no conveniences in our house or on our farm. I think that is foolish. Papa and Mama work too hard. I like learning about things, but we have no books except our German Bible and the Gabrauch Buch.”

  “What is that?” Nancy asked.

  Manda explained it was something used in powwowing—a means of curing people who are ill. “Powwowing is accomplished by the ‘laying on of hands.’ Not everyone can make it work. But Mama can,” she said proudly.

  Presently a farmhouse came into sight and Manda said that this was where Rudolph lived. Her farm was beyond it.

  “Why don’t you wait until my car is fixed and I’ll drive you home?” Nancy offered, smiling.

  Manda looked frightened. “Oh, no! My Father is strict House Amish and would never forgive me if I came home in an automobile. I thank you. I will walk the rest of the way.”

  As the girls separated, Nancy went up the lane to Rudolph’s house. A rosy-cheeked, red-haired young man wearing a straight-brimmed black hat and black homemade cloth suspenders over his red shirt saw her coming and greeted her with a bow.

  “I was told by Manda Kreutz that you are an expert mechanic,” Nancy said. “My car is stuck down the road. Can you help me out?”

  “Ya, I will help you,” he said. “I will get my car and tools.” He disappeared behind the house for a few minutes, then drove out a small car. Climbing in, Nancy directed him to the stalled convertible.

  When Nancy introduced the young man to Bess and George, Rudolph said, “You are a girl? Your name is George, ain’t?”

  George chuckled and nodded. Rudolph remarked emphatically that among plain people, a man has a man’s name and a woman, a woman’s name.

  The tomboyish girl did not take offense at the criticism. Laughing, she told Rudolph that she had not named herself. “But I like having a boy’s name,” she admitted. “It’s different.”

  Rudolph made no further comment. He checked the car, working with amazing speed. One minute he was beneath the convertible, the next he was tinkering under the hood, and a moment later he was reaching in to the dashboard to test the ignition. Soon he announced that he had found the trouble. “The feed line —a twist in it!”

  It was not long before Rudolph had fixed the car. When the girls were on their way again, Nancy decided it was too late to call on Mr. Zinn that day.

  “Besides, I’d like to stop at the Kreutz farm to see how Manda made out,” she went on. “If her father is as stern as she said, he may not let her stay. In that case we can take her wherever she wants to go.”

  The girls found the Kreutz place easily. It was a large, plain two-story house without blinds or curtains. Nearby was a large stone barn built on two levels of ground. Several other smaller buildings dotted the yard.

  Nancy’s knock was answered by an Amish woman who looked as if she had been crying. “You’re Mrs. Kreutz?” the girl asked, smiling.

  The woman nodded silently.

  “Is Manda at home?” Nancy inquired.

  “You know Manda?” the woman asked.

  Nancy replied that she had met the Amish girl on the road and told the whole story.

  Suddenly Mrs. Kreutz burst into tears. “Manda has gone again! Papa is so strict! He told Manda she could live here, but he gave orders that nobody in the family could speak to her!”

  “How dreadfull” Nancy thought.

  “We have six sons,” Mrs. Kreutz explained. “They are married and have their own farms near here. But Papa is mayschter, and we obey him.”

  The woman looked pleadingly at Nancy. “Maybe Papa would listen to you, since you are outside our family. He will not admit to us his feelings are hurt because his only daughter has left home. Please talk to him about Manda. He is near the barn, by the bull pens.”

  Nancy agreed, though she had little hope she could persuade Mr. Kreutz. Bess and George joined Nancy, and the three girls walked toward the barn. They saw a large enclosure with three pens. In each stood a large black bull.

  Mr. Kreutz was a giant of a man, with a ruddy complexion, sandy hair, and a long beard. He was working in the first pen.

  As he heard the girls’ footsteps, the farmer looked up. At the same instant the huge bull beside him lowered its horns, caught up the man, and threw him across the pen!

  CHAPTER IV

  Nancy’s Strategy

  BESS screamed. This angered the bull. With a loud snort he lowered his head as if to make a second attack on Mr. Kreutz, who lay stunned near the gate. Bess cried out again. The animal delayed his charge momentarily, eying the girl.

  “Quick!” Nancy exclaimed, seeing several buckets of water standing by the barn. “Grab a pail!”

  Nancy picked up one. With full force, she threw the water over the fence at the bull’s head, just as he headed for the farmer again. The animal stopped dead, temporarily blinded by the water.

  Then, with increased fury, he bellowed and plunged toward the motionless farmer. George now threw her water at the bull, and Nancy called to Bess, “Stand by the gate and be ready to open it when I tell you!”

  Nancy grabbed another pail and heaved it into the pen. Then, reaching through the bars, she grabbed Mr. Kreutz by his shirt and dragged him forward. The bull, confused, backed up.

  “Open the gate!” Nancy yelled.

  As Bess obeyed, Nancy and George reached in and dragged Mr. Kreutz to safety. Bess then slammed the gate shut and locked it.

  With a roar the bull rammed headfirst into the bars of his pen, trying to batter them down with his horns. Fortunately, the bars were strong.

  Spying a water wheel in a sluiceway, Nancy filled another pail and hurried back to Mr. Kreutz. She dipped her handkerchief in the cold water and applied it to his forehead. Presently the man open his eyes.

  “Wuu bin ich?” he murmured.

  “You’re with friends,” Nancy replied, knowing he had asked where he was. “Just lie quiet for a while and you’ll be all right.”

  Mr. Kreutz closed his eyes, but half a minute later he opened them again. Sitting up, he gazed at the three girls. Then he heard the noise of the stamping bull and this seemed to remind him of what had happened.

  “How did I get here?” the farmer moaned.

  “We dragged you out of the pen,” George reported. “If it hadn’t been for Nancy, you might have been killed by that bull.”

  “I remember now,” Mr. Kreutz said, sitting up. “I saw you just before the bull tossed me.”

  The girls helped the farmer to his feet and assisted him into the kitchen.

  “Papa, Papa, what is the matter?” Mrs. Kreutz cried.

  Bess explained about the bull charge.

  “Ach!” th
e woman exclaimed.

  “He’ll be all right,” Nancy assured her.

  Mrs. Kreutz ladled out steaming soup from a huge old-fashioned kettle into a crockery bowL While the farmer cupped the bowl in his hands and drank the hearty soup, the girls glanced about the kitchen.

  One wall was taken up by a fireplace, with its traditional Dutch oven set in one side of the stonework. Above it hung copper kettles of various sizes. In the center of the fireplace was a long iron arm from which a caldron was suspended.

  Beside the stove stood a box filled with logs, and the girls assumed that food was cooked over a wood fire. There was an old-fashioned sink, but no plumbing. Apparently water was carried in from the sluiceway. The bare wide-board floor had been scrubbed until it shone.

  “I feel better,” Mr. Kreutz announced as he set down his bowl. “Now will you girls tell me your names and why you are here?”

  The girls introduced themselves. Then Mrs. Kreutz said quickly, “It’s suppertime, Papa.”

  “We will all eat,” the farmer said decisively.

  The girls accepted at once and offered to help Mrs. Kreutz. Soon they sat down at a long wooden table in the kitchen, which had benches on each side. Before them were brown, yellow, and white cheeses; red, purple, and white grape jellies; a platter of huge slices of homemade bread, dishes of apple butter, stewed peaches, cherries, pickled onions, sour cantaloupe, and corn relish. For a hot dish there was boiled rabbit pot pie.

  Mr. Kreutz said grace. Before eating, he asked, “Where’s Manda? No place has been set for her!”

  Softly his wife replied, “She has gone away again.”

  Mr. Kreutz stared out the window. His food went untouched and the girls sat in silence. “Eat your supper!” the man said abruptly.

  The visitors began to eat, feeling ill at ease. Mrs. Kreutz did not touch her supper either. Finally she said, “Papa, you were lucky these nice girls helped you when the bull threw you.”

  “Ya, I was. Donnk.” He gave his curt thanks.