While the mechanic worked on the car, Nancy asked him if he knew anyone in the neighborhood named Zucker. "A young couple with a baby?" he queried.

"They live on an isolated farm."

"They're the ones all right," the garageman replied. "I don't know why they want to live back there. Ground's full of rocks. Not many fields on it to farm. Zucker can't make money that way."

Nancy asked for specific directions and was told to continue straight ahead for another half mile "Then, if you look sharp, you will see a lane. It's just about the width of a car. The Zuckers get in and out all right, so I guess you can. But it's rough going. The house is about half a mile in."

The girls started off again and presently found the trail. Nancy turned in and drove slowly, mostly through woods, until she came to the Zucker property. It was evident that the original house had been a one-room structure to which an addition had been built fairly recently.

The callers noticed a baby's net-covered play pen in the dooryard. In it was an infant asleep.

A young couple came from the house and smiled at the girls, who stepped out of the car. "Are you looking for us-the Zuckers?" the man asked.

Nancy revealed why they had come and asked if he could give her any information about the old stagecoach which AbnerLangstreet had driven.

"I'm afraid not," the young man replied, introducing himself as Morton and his wife as Marjory. Nancy introduced herself and the other two girls.

Marjory spoke up, "When we moved here, this place had been thoroughly cleaned out. Oh, there was plenty of dirt, but not even a bottle or a piece of firewood or anything."

"And former owners never mentioned anything about AbnerLangstreet living here or owning a stagecoach?" Nancy asked.

The Zuckers shook their heads, then Morton said, "But if you think you can find anything, you're more than welcome to look around."

"Thank you," said Nancy. "Actually, I was hoping there might be a bill of sale of the old stagecoach hidden away, perhaps behind some secret panel."

Intrigued, the Zuckers said they would like to join in a search. First an ancient barn was thoroughly searched. Nothing came to light.

"What was that old shed used for?" Nancy asked.

"I believe it was the blacksmith shop," Morton answered. "A hundred years ago life on a farm was very different from today. A man was his own blacksmith and builder as well as farmer. Besides growing all his own grain, fruits, and vegetables, and raising chickens, colts, calves, and pigs, he built houses and barns, with some help from his neighbors."

"Amazing," Bess murmured.

"The farmer also forged and hammered his own iron hardware for nails, latches, andirons, and lamp bases," Morton went on. "He often made wrought-iron boxes and tools," the young man ended, as they entered the shed.

Marjory smiled. "I guess that's how the saying started, 'A man works from sun to sun."'

No clues were found in the shed, so Morton said, "Let's try the house."

On the way there, Morton added suddenly, "I just thought of something. When I bought this farm I had the t.i.tle thoroughly searched. AbnerLangstreet was never an owner, so if he lived here he must have rented the place."

"I'm sure that's true," said Nancy. "If the property were registered at the courthouse, AbnerLangstreet could have been found."

"Maybe this isn't the right place," said Bess.

Nancy reminded her that Mrs. Strook had given the directions, and if the Zuckers were willing, she thought they should go on with the search, Morton insisted that they do so.

"I'm highly interested in this thing myself now," he said. "A missing stagecoach!" He looked quizzically at Nancy. "You didn't say so, but I figure there must be something valuable hidden inside it."

"We suspect there may be," Nancy confessed, but did not explain further.

Work began in the four-room farmhouse. It was decided to confine the search to the original building. Walls were carefully tapped, and the stones of the fireplace inspected for any which might pull out. The hunt proved futile.

"Do you mind if I peek under your rugs, Marjory?" Nancy asked, "to see if there might be an old trap door or loose board?"

"Go ahead," the farmer's wife said. "And I wish you luck!"

Nancy looked under each of the small hooked rugs which lay on the wide-board floor. She was about to give up and admit defeat, when one of the boards seemed unsteady as she trod back and forth on it. "There may be something under here!" she called out excitedly.

Morton brought a small wedge from a tool chest in the kitchen and pried up one end of the board.

"Why, there are lots of notes underneath!" Bess exclaimed.

The notes, in an old-fashioned handwriting, had been placed in rows on top of a board lying on the ground. They were musty but legible. Without disturbing them, Nancy began to read the words.

The first one in the upper left-hand corner read, "First burial today." The one directly below it said, "Second burial today." To the onlookers' amazement the same phrase with succeeding numerals appeared on each of the notes, which numbered thirty.

"Ugh!" Bess cried out. "This is gruesome!"

Marjory Zucker was greatly disturbed. Turning to her husband, she said, "Morton, there may be a graveyard on our property!"

By this time Nancy had picked up the first note and turned it over. On the back was written AbnerLangstreet, October 1, 1853.

"This was Great-uncle Abner's hide-out!" the young sleuth cried out excitedly.

Each note was turned over. All were signed with the same signature, and each was dated one day later than the note before it. On a few of them were short lines and here and there a circle.

Morton Zucker had put an arm around his wife. "I am sure if there is a burial ground on this property, it was not for human beings. Probably Mr. Langstreet had to shoot various wild animals for self-protection and buried them one by one."

"Possibly," Nancy agreed. "But there may be some other explanation. One thing I do know. If these notes were really written by AbnerLangstreet, they were done only one month after he disappeared from Francisville."

She went on to say that she thought the handwriting should be compared with something which AbnerLangstreet had written. "May I borrow these notes?" she asked Morton. "I'd like to take them to Mrs. Strook. She may have a sample of her great-uncle's handwriting, and we can compare it with these notes."

"Take them along," the young man said. He smiled. "They're certainly no good to me."

Before the girls left, the Zuckers invited them to come back at any time and make a further search. Morton grinned. "Maybe I won't even wait for you," he said. "I may do some searching and find the old stagecoach."

"Please do," Nancy answered. "And if you locate anything, call me at Camp Merriweather."

"I sure will."

On the way to Mrs. Strook's home, the three girls discussed the mystery from this new angle.

"Do you think the notes are authentic?" Bess asked Nancy.

"Yes, I do. And I believe they prove without a doubt that Mr. Langstreet never went out West to sell his stagecoach. He wouldn't have had time to get there and back before October 1,1853. The coach must be hidden in this very area!"

"Maybe," Bess said. "But the vehicle was so large, how could he have hidden it without someone having found it during the past hundred years?"