The Clue in the Old Stagecoach
Page 4
“Why?” Nancy countered, trying to stall for time until Bess could bring the police to the spot.
“Do as I say!” the stranger growled.
By this time Nancy and George had concluded that the man did not intend to reveal his whereabouts and harm them. Regaining their courage, the girls decided to stay as long as possible.
“We saw this old stagecoach from the top of the cliff,” George spoke up. “We’d like to look at it.”
“You leave the old thing alone!” the stranger directed.
“We’re not going to harm it,” Nancy argued. “Does it belong to you?”
All this time she had been listening intently, trying to find out where the speaker was located. As he called back, she decided the man was hiding in a huge maple tree not far away. She concentrated on the spot.
“That’s none of your business,” the stranger returned. “Now get out of here!”
Nancy detected a slight movement among the leaves on one of the stout limbs. In a shaft of sunlight she saw a man’s hand and forearm. There was a slantwise scar across the wrist!
“One of the hijackers!” Nancy thought. “His blond cohort is probably with him. I guess George and I had better leave and go to meet the police.”
Aloud she said, “Sorry to have bothered you. We’ll go now.”
George was surprised, but did not question Nancy’s decision. Together the two girls scrambled up the hillside among the trees. When they were out of earshot of the man, Nancy quickly told George what she had seen.
“Hypers!” George exclaimed, using her favorite expression. “We found the hijackers! I hope they won’t leave before we can have them arrested!”
The thought spurred the girls on and soon they reached the top of the cliff. They ran full speed along the bridle path toward the main road. Halfway there they met Bess and officers Gavin and Starr racing down the road. Quickly Nancy told her story and the whole group rushed back, so that the troopers might capture the hijackers.
As they neared the cliff, Officer Starr said he thought it best if the girls did not go down the bridle path, since the men below might expect a second visit from that direction and be warned away. “We’ll take the other side right through the forest,” he said. “And you girls, please keep in the rear.” He turned to Nancy. “Would you act as lookout? Stay near the trees at the edge of the ravine. If you see anything unusual, notify us by rolling a stone in our direction.”
Nancy nodded and went to the left of the group. Halfway down the slope, she suddenly spotted the two hijackers coming from hiding. One carried a hatchet, the other a large saw. Instantly they began to hack at the old stagecoach!
Seeing this, Nancy quickly sent a small stone hurtling down toward the policemen and beckoned them to come forward. “The hijackers!” she told them when they arrived, and pointed.
The officers gave one look, then ran pell-mell down the hillside. The three girls joined the chase. They had almost reached the foot of the slope when suddenly from somewhere in the woods came an unusual whistle. When the two hijackers heard it, they took to their heels and disappeared among the trees in the opposite direction.
“The hijackers!” Nancy warned
Instantly the officers gave chase. Nancy did not follow. Instead, she said to her friends, “Let’s try to find that whistler. He must be a pal of the hijackers.”
They could hear crashing in the undergrowth not far from them, and took off in pursuit. But presently the sounds stopped and they could see no one. Finally the girls gave up.
“We’d better return and guard the old stagecoach,” Nancy said. The others nodded.
When they got back, Nancy remarked, “One thing has been proved. There are at least three people involved in the theft of the stagecoach. I wonder who the third person is.”
George was staring at the ax and the saw which the hijackers had dropped in their haste to get away. “These might be good clues,” she remarked. “Fingerprints and that sort of stuff. We’d better not touch them.”
“That’s right,” Nancy agreed.
In a little while the policemen returned, admitting defeat in their pursuit of the hijackers.
Officer Starr smiled. “At least we saved the stolen property,” he said, “thanks to you girls.”
“Let’s right the stagecoach and see what damage has been done to the other side,” Nancy suggested.
Five pairs of strong arms soon set the vehicle back on its wheels. To everyone’s delight, practically no damage had been caused.
“This means that the hijackers didn’t let it roll off the cliff and land here,” said Nancy. “Those men must have brought it down the hillside. If they did,” she added, smiling broadly at the two policemen, “the five of us should be able to drag it back up.”
The two officers looked at her dubiously but finally consented to try. Bess and George stood on one side of the pole, Nancy on the other. As they grabbed hold, Bess giggled. “This isn’t a one-horse shay. It’s a three-horse stagecoach!”
Starr and Gavin grinned, then got behind the vehicle and started to shove it. The trip up the slope was an arduous one, but finally the group reached the top. From there out to the main road the task of moving the stagecoach was not difficult.
“I’ll be happy to deliver the stagecoach to Mrs. Pauling,” Nancy offered.
“All right,” said Officer Starr. “Gavin and I will report to headquarters about those hijackers and do more searching for them.”
While he radioed to headquarters, Officer Gavin got some heavy rope from his car. The pole of the old stagecoach was firmly tied to the rear bumper of Nancy’s convertible.
“If it weren’t against the law to ride in a trailer,” said Bess, “I’d certainly climb into the old stagecoach.”
The three girls finally set off, with Nancy driving very slowly. Motorists along the road stared in amazement and amusement at the sight. Finally Nancy pulled into the Pauling driveway and parked in front of the house.
Mrs. Pauling, who was just coming out of the front door, stared in utter astonishment. Then she cried out, “You found it! Do come inside the house and tell me all about it!”
At that moment George looked at her wrist watch and exclaimed, “Bess, our tennis match is at three o’clock. We’d better dash right off!”
Since it was only twelve thirty, Mrs. Pauling insisted that the girls stay long enough to have lunch. Then she asked whether Nancy would have to go too.
“Not yet,” the young sleuth confessed. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to stay and examine the old stagecoach.”
“Fine. I’ll drive you back to Merriweather later.”
While lunch was being prepared, Nancy gave Mrs. Pauling a full report on the recovery of the stagecoach and said she thought they should notify John O’Brien at once. Mrs. Pauling agreed and Nancy put in the call to Bridgeford. The trucker was delighted to learn the good news.
When Nancy returned to the group, Mrs. Pauling said, “The carpenter was here but he left. I’m sure he’ll come back if I ask him to.” She phoned Mr. Jennings who promised to return at two o’clock and carefully take apart the stagecoach piece by piece.
A delicious luncheon of chicken sandwiches, molded vegetable salad, and tall glasses of lemonade was served in a shaded portion of the patio garden. As Mrs. Pauling and her guests were eating, the woman asked if the girls were familiar with the history of stagecoaches. None of them were.
“It’s really very interesting,” she said. “The first stagecoaches used in this country were imported from England, and were called stage waggons. But during the War of 1812 the Concord coach was built in Massachusetts and became very popular. It was used out West as late as the 1870’s.”
Bess asked, “Is the stagecoach you bought a Concord coach?”
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Pauling replied. She chuckled. “Some record runs were made in those Concord coaches—twenty miles in forty-five minutes! Considering the roads in those days, that was marvelous time.
“And speaking of the roads, carriages sank so deeply in the mud sometimes that the horses could not pull them out. Getting across creeks, or bridges that were made of only a few loose boards, was a real accomplishment.”
Bess hunched her shoulders. “I don’t think I’d like to have been on one of those rides,” she remarked. “The old stagecoaches must have swayed around like crazy.”
Mrs. Pauling nodded. “Despite that, the stagecoach lines could not carry all the passengers who wanted to travel. But whenever a railroad came into a community there were loud complaints from the stage drivers.
“They were not the only ones who complained, either. You know the turnpikes and bridges in those days collected tolls and the owners could see their profits melting away.”
“And I suppose the farmers complained too,” George spoke up. “Railroads wouldn’t buy hay and grain for their iron horses.”
“That’s true,” Mrs. Pauling agreed. “But as a matter of fact, the first railroads in this country used horses. They were the original locomotives and pulled one or two railway coaches.”
By this time Mrs. Pauling and her guests had finished eating. Bess and George said they really must leave in order to get back to the lodge in time to change their clothes and get to the tennis courts. After thanking their hostess, the girls hurried off.
At two o’clock Mr. Jennings rang the bell and said he was ready to begin work. The old stagecoach was dragged to a vacant barn at the rear of the property and the job started.
Mr. Jennings proved to be a talkative individual. “This is one of the best Concord coaches ever built,” he remarked. “See how gracefully the carriage body was slung on these leather straps. They served as springs, you know.”
Nancy wished he would hurry taking the stagecoach apart, but he slowly laid out all his tools from a large box and a cloth-wrapped kit which he removed from his car.
“Many laws were passed in connection with the operation of stagecoaches,” he went on. “One act of the legislature required lamps to be used on all coaches running at night. Drivers were fined for not doing this. Another regulation was against leaving the horses unfastened while they were hitched to a coach standing still without a driver.”
Finally the carpenter settled down to work. First he removed the upholstery from the doors and let Nancy thoroughly examine the padding for any clue which might have been secreted there. She found nothing.
Next he removed the leather backing of the seats, but again the young sleuth had no luck. Then the leather lining of the box under the driver’s seat was taken out. There was no clue behind it.
“I guess we’ll have to start taking the sections apart,” Mr. Jennings said.
Doors came off, the roof was removed, all the seats were taken out, and finally the body was separated from the framework. Wheels and pole were taken off. Still no clue came to light.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Drew,” Mr. Jennings said. “I know how disappointed you are.”
All this time Mrs. Pauling had sat nearby, watching curiously and hopefully. When it became evident that nothing was secreted in the ancient vehicle, Nancy apologized profusely for all the trouble she had caused.
“Please don’t worry,” Mrs. Pauling said kindly. “I’m only sorry that the little dream which all of us had did not become a reality.”
“I admit I’m terribly disappointed,” said Nancy. “But I’m not giving up. I’ve come to this conclusion: We’ve been investigating the wrong stagecoach. This means I’ll have to start all over again and find the right one.”
Mrs. Pauling stared at the girl detective. “I certainly admire your perseverance,” she said. “But how in the world are you going to find the right stagecoach?”
CHAPTER VII
An Attic Clue
WHEN Nancy returned to her room at the camp, she found Bess and George already in theirs. Quickly stories were exchanged with both sides disappointed in the outcome. Bess and George had lost their tennis match that day.
Nancy smiled. “Too bad. But that will give you all the more time to help me solve my mystery.”
“I can see that you already have something in mind,” Bess remarked. “Out with it!”
Nancy said she was going to call on Mrs. Strook the following morning. “Now that the mystery has to be tackled from a new angle, I’m hoping she can give me some helpful information.”
“Good idea,” said George. “Well, let’s go and eat. I’m simply starved. That tennis match sure was strenuous.”
Directly after dinner a group of young people, including Nancy and her friends, gathered in one corner of the lobby. Conversation was light, as they waited to attend an outdoor movie, to be shown as soon as it was dark.
Nancy was talking with Rick Larrabee when she was rudely interrupted by a woman’s voice behind her. “And how did the young sleuth make out today?”
Turning, Nancy looked straight into the eyes of Audrey Monteith. “Oh, very well, thank you,” Nancy replied and turned back to talk to Rick.
Audrey, however, was not to be brushed aside easily. “Nancy, don’t be so secretive,” she scolded. “We’d love to hear about what you’ve been doing.”
Nancy heaved a great sigh, then said as pleasantly as possible, “I really have nothing to tell. I admit I’m trying to solve a mystery, but as yet I haven’t done so.”
Rick took hold of her arm and led Nancy toward the outdoor movie amphitheater. Taking his cue, the other young people followed close behind and took seats all around Nancy, so that the inquisitive Monteiths could not talk to her.
“You’re all dears,” Nancy said, chuckling. “Thanks a million.”
Early the next morning the young sleuth awakened Bess and George. Nancy said she would like to start off for Mrs. Strook’s home before the Monteiths had a chance to follow. Her friends grinned and hurried into their sports clothes. The three girls had breakfast and set off.
They found Mrs. Strook in the front yard, cutting flowers. She greeted her callers with a pleasant good morning, then said, “You must have important news to bring you out so early.”
“We plan a full day of sleuthing,” Nancy replied, smiling. Then she told Mrs. Strook of her failure regarding the old stagecoach. “I feel sure now that this was not the one your great-uncle owned. What I must do is find the right one.”
Mrs. Strook was disappointed, but said she was delighted to know that Nancy would go on with the case. “Have you any idea where to start?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nancy answered. “I’d like to know if you have any possessions of Mr. Langstreet—letters, diaries, books, anything to give us a clue.”
The elderly woman stood lost in thought for several moments, then said, “I can’t think of a single thing that would help, except possibly a diary of my grandfather’s. Come into the house and I’ll try to find it.”
At once the three girls offered to help her search for it. She readily agreed and suggested that Nancy and her friends check the living-room bookcase while she looked in desk drawers. There was silence as the search went on. Ten minutes later all admitted defeat.
“Then my grandfather’s old diary must be in the attic,” Mrs. Strook concluded. “Let’s rest a bit before we go up. In the meantime, I’ll show you something I’m rather proud of.”
From the desk she pulled out a small book filled with stamps. “Collecting stamps, old and new, from all over the world is a hobby of mine,” she said. “A few are rather valuable but they would be more so if they had not been canceled.”
The girls looked at page after page, with Mrs. Strook pointing out the fact that blocks of uncanceled stamps were the rarest and most expensive of all.
She smiled. “Of course I haven’t any of the old ones in blocks or uncanceled.”
“Which is your most valuable?” Bess asked.
“This George Washington one of 1847. It’s not in very good condition but it’s genuine. You know, there are counterfeit stamps on the market.”
“About ten thousand dollars,” Mrs. Strook replied.
“Hypers!” George exclaimed.
The elderly woman smiled, closed the book, and put it away. She stood up, saying, “I’m ready to continue our search for the diary now. Suppose you girls follow me upstairs and we’ll take a look.”
The second floor of the house was as charming as the first, with its quaint décor and white woodwork. The elderly woman opened a door at the foot of a stairway to the attic and led the way to the very orderly room above.
Trunks and boxes stood in neat rows on one side, while discarded pieces of furniture, including an old spinning wheel, had been pushed under the eaves along the other three sides. There was no ceiling; just rafters and crossbeams. A few boxes stood on the crossbeams.
Mrs. Strook assigned the girls to various trunks and boxes, while she took others. Bess, who had been given a trunk full of costumes, was intrigued. She wanted to take each one out and hold it up, but knew this would take a lot of time.
Carefully she felt down around the clothing and all over the bottom of the trunk, hoping the old diary might be lying there. But she did not find it. Finally she straightened up and closed the lid of the trunk.
Meanwhile, the other searchers were going through boxes and trunks holding old newspapers, letters, and books. Each was carefully examined, not only for the diary, but for some advertisement, a letter slipped between the pages, or a marked passage in some volume that would give a hint about Great-uncle Abner Langstreet’s intentions. Nothing was found.
Finally Mrs. Strook suggested a rest period and sat down on an old-fashioned chair. Bess offered to go downstairs and bring up glasses of water for Mrs. Strook and the others. She could see that the woman was becoming very weary and suggested that she lie down on an antique sofa.
“All right,” she said. “But you strong young people go on with the search. I’ve forgotten what is in those boxes up on the crossbeams.”