"A good idea!" Nancy approved. She pulled up before the shack and flung open the car door. George did the same and promptly stepped out.

But Bess held back. "No telling who lives there, girls! M-maybe that criminal!"

"George and I will go," said Nancy. "You stay here, Bess."

"Not on your life. If you're going, I'll go, too."

George and Nancy were already pushing their way through the brush, and Bess, fearful of being left alone, hurried after them. The shack was located in a tiny clearing which was enclosed on three sides by dense forest.

The girls were halfway to the cabin when Bess clutched Nancy's arm. "There's someone in the bushes-over by the grape arbor-watching us!"

The three girls huddled together, afraid to continue. They could see the motionless figure peeping out at them.

Suddenly Nancy burst into laughter.

"A scarecrow!" she exclaimed. "Bess, this makes the second time you've given us a scare!"

Bess looked sheepish and made no response.

"Come on!" George said in disgust. "We're acting like babies!"

The girls approached the shack with a boldness they did not feel. Bess remarked nervously that the place seemed unnaturally quiet.

Summoning her courage, Nancy knocked on the door. There was no response. She knocked again, louder than before.

"I heard someone moving!" George whispered tensely.

Nancy thought she had heard something. A little chill of excitement ran down her spine. Was someone hiding inside?

"Let's go back!" Bess urged fearfully.

"One more try," Nancy begged, and knocked again.

When no answer came, Nancy gently turned the k.n.o.b. The door opened so quickly she almost plunged headlong into the one-room shack. She sprang back, expecting to face an occupant. The room was empty. The few furnishings were broken down and covered with dust.

"Another joke on us!" Nancy said. "I'd have sworn I heard someone moving in here!"

"So would I," murmured Bess in a relieved tone. "What a creepy place!"

The girls tiptoed around the shack, sidestepping the dirt, and ducking their heads, as they avoided the heavy cobwebs.

"n.o.body home!" announced Nancy, gaily shaking off her former apprehensive mood.

"No one has used this shack in months," George declared.

"We may as well run along," said Nancy.

Returning to their car, the girls agreed after some debate to take the right-hand fork. A few minutes' driving took them to the foot of Sunview Mountain.

"I see a town ahead," Nancy observed. "We'll stop there and inquire if we're on the right road."

When they reached the main section of the village, Nancy managed to attract the attention of a policeman, who left his post and came over to the car.

"The road to the Weston factory?" he repeated. "You should have taken the left fork several miles back."

The girls exchanged looks of consternation. After their recent experiences the thought of returning over the same route was cheerless indeed.

"There's another way you can get there," the policeman told them, "but it will take you a little longer."

"That's all right," Nancy said thankfully.

He then explained in detail how they could reach the factory. Nancy thanked him and drove on.

"We'll have to hurry," she remarked to her friends, "or the factory will be closed. Just our luck to take the wrong turn."

Swift driving partially made up for lost time, but Nancy's wrist watch warned her that it was nearly four o'clock when they at last reached the factory on the outskirts of Stanford. It took the girls a few minutes to locate the office.

Nancy presented herself to the young woman in charge, stating that she wished to see Mr. Baylor Weston.

"It's rather late," the secretary informed Nancy with a superior air. "Mr. Weston doesn't like to make appointments after three o'clock."

"We've driven here from River Heights," Nancy explained patiently. "Please give him my name."

The young woman vanished into an inner office. The girls sat down on a bench to wait. Five minutes pa.s.sed.

"Looks as if we're out of luck," George grumbled. "The man probably suspects what we came for and means to get out of it if he possibly can."

She lowered her voice, for at that moment the secretary returned.

"Mr. Weston will see you," she told Nancy. "Step into his office, please."

If Nancy and the other girls expected to meet a defiant Baylor Weston they were mistaken. His every movement disclosed that he was as intensely nervous as he had been the day of the accident.

Mr. Weston recognized Nancy, and it was not necessary for her to state her mission. Evidently her visit had been antic.i.p.ated.

He motioned the girls to be seated, and still without speaking, the manufacturer reached for the bills which Nancy held in her hand. He glanced at them and a look of relief came over his face.

"Well, that's not half bad," he remarked, relaxing. "I was sure it would be much more."

Nancy expected Mr. Weston to mention his insurance company's paying the amount, but instead he opened his desk drawer and took out a checkbook. As he wrote in it, he said:

"I'm decidedly pleased that the total expense is so small. The last time I crashed into a car it cost me real money, to say nothing of the threatened lawsuit."

"The last time?" Nancy echoed with a smile.

"I'm very nervous-excitable," the manufacturer reiterated. "Doctor's right-I shouldn't drive a car."

He handed the check to Nancy. "That covers everything?"