"I'll have to change my hair-do for a couple of days to hide this b.u.mp!"

The others laughed and Mrs. Strook in particular felt relieved to know that Nancy was all right. Nevertheless, she shook her head, saying, "It's wonderful the way you young people can make such quick comebacks."

The contents of the box Nancy had pulled down were strewn on the floor. Suddenly Mrs. Strook saw her grandfather's diary. Picking it up, she began thumbing through the old book.

"Here are some items that may help you," she said excitedly. "It tells about my grandfather's endeavor to trace his brother-in-law. He contacted every stagecoach line in the country and he had also written to every driver of a private stagecoach whose name he could learn. But no one could tell him anything about Great-uncle Abner's stagecoach."

Mrs. Strook continued to read to herself from the diary. The girls did not interrupt. In a few moments she said, "Here's another item. My grandfather also contacted all the old inns and taverns located along the stagecoach routes. AbnerLangstreet never registered at any of them."

"Well, that eliminates the idea that Mr. Langstreet sold the stagecoach out West," George remarked. "It looks as if he must have hidden it somewhere around here."

"Yes, it does," Mrs. Strook agreed. She sighed. "But maybe by this time the coach has rotted away and we'll never find it."

Nancy, determined not to lose hope, said, "It's my hunch that if Mr. AbnerLangstreet loved his stagecoach as much as I've been led to believe, he would do everything he could to preserve it. I'm sure that it's hidden away safely somewhere. He intended to tell in the letter he wrote to your grandmother, Mrs. Strook, where he had put it, but I believe he died without having a chance to do so."

Mrs. Strook smiled fondly at Nancy. "You're such a wonderful girl," she said.

"If you're right, Nancy," said Bess, "where do we go from here?"

Nancy had a quick answer. "To the place where Mr. AbnerLangstreet spent his last days."

CHAPTER VIII.

A Whistler's Confession

"PERHAPS you'll go with us, Mrs. Strook," Nancy invited. But the elderly woman said she did not feel physically able to make the trip to her great-uncle's last home.

"Can you show me on a map exactly where it is?" the young sleuth went on.

When Mrs. Strook nodded, Nancy offered to bring a road map from her car. The whole group returned to the living room. As Nancy hurried outdoors, she noticed a truck parked just back of her automobile. Drawing closer, she recognized the driver as Judd Hillary!

As soon as he saw Nancy, the unpleasant man alighted. Facing her, he said angrily, "I've been waitin' for you."

"Yes?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"I gave you a warnin', young lady, but you're not payin' any attention to it," Judd Hillary said harshly. "Can't you keep that nose o' yours out o' other people's business? You don't live around here. You don't pay taxes. You just come up here to have a good time. Well, why don't you stick to that? You don't have to go runnin' around messin' in the affairs o' our place!"

"I wasn't aware that I was doing such a thing," said Nancy coolly.

She planned to ignore the man, but he followed her to the convertible. It suddenly occurred to Nancy that he probably had posted himself there to see what she was doing and where she was going. It might be best not to pull out the map at this time.

Suddenly Judd Hillary burst out, "What did you do with the old stagecoach?"

Nancy was so amazed at the question that she stared dumfounded. But she was instantly on her guard. In reply she said, "Mr. Hillary, why are you so interested in the old stagecoach?"

The man had a ready answer. "Because you are," he said. "You can't hide anything from me. You're workin' for the opposition. They're an underhanded bunch. They got somethin' up their sleeves. If they set you onto examinin' the old stagecoach, it means somethin'. I want to know what it is!"

Nancy wondered how she was going to get rid of the man. She was a bit puzzled by his att.i.tude. On the one hand he seemed genuinely interested in keeping the local taxes and those of surrounding communities from being raised. On the other hand, the very fact that he had learned she was interested in examining the old stagecoach could even mean he knew the hijackers!

"I wonder how I can find out," she asked herself. Then an idea came to her and she decided on a bold move. Looking directly at him, she said, "Mr. Hillary, you whistle very well."

The tall, muscular man fell back. "How do you know that I can-?" Then he interrupted himself abruptly and the momentary look of fright which had come over his face vanished. Setting his jaw, he said, "You never heard me whistle, so what are you talking about?"

Nancy did not answer. She felt positive that Judd Hillary had given himself away: He had some connection with the hijackers!

Having proved that fact to herself, she decided on a new tack to disarm him. "Yes, I felt that there was something very valuable hidden in that old stagecoach. But I was wrong. It has all been taken apart and thoroughly searched. Not a thing was found." She smiled at Judd Hillary. "So you won't have to worry about it any longer."

The man gave Nancy a searching look as if he could not make up his mind whether or not to believe her. Finally he mumbled something to himself she could not hear.

In a louder voice he said, "I'm warnin' you again. Don't be pokin' into the business o' other people!"

He got into his truck, started the motor, and jerkily drove up the street.

Nancy gazed after him wonderingly. "So he was the whistler!" she told herself. "That is a clue I'm certainly going to pursue."

Nancy opened the car door and found the road map. Returning to the house, she spread it out on Mrs. Strook's dining-room table. She pointed to Francisville and then asked the elderly woman if she could locate the spot where AbnerLangstreet had spent his last days.

It took Mrs. Strook some time to figure this out. At last she put her finger on an area about half a mile in from a side road marked 123A. "I think this is the place."

"There's a private road leading to the farm?" George asked.

"I believe so," Mrs. Strook said. "I have never been on it myself, but I'm told it's only a dirt road."

She warned the girls that this was a desolate area.

"Does anyone live on the farm now?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, yes. In fact, people have lived on the place ever since Great-uncle Abner pa.s.sed away. But no one has improved the farm much. I understand that right now a young couple are living on it. They're having a struggle financially."

"That's a shame," said Bess sympathetically.

Mrs. Strook nodded. "Their name is Zucker. I believe the husband was advised by a doctor to live on a farm for health reasons. Mr. Zucker is feeling better but knows little about farming, so it's difficult to make ends meet."

The elderly woman wished the girls luck as Nancy folded up the map and said they must go. At that moment all of them heard thunder. Flashes of lightning streaked across the sky.

"Oh, you must stay until the storm is over," Mrs. Strook insisted.

"I guess we'd better," said Nancy. "I'll run out and put up the top of my car."

Rain came down in torrents for about twenty minutes, then slackened off slightly. The thunder and lightning ceased, but the rain continued.

"I'm afraid," said Mrs. Strook, "that it will rain all the rest of the day. I'd advise you girls not to try going out to the Zucker place. You'd certainly get stuck on those bad roads."

Nancy realized the wisdom of this. "I'll take your advice, Mrs. Strook," she said, "and make the trip tomorrow."

The girls said good-by and dashed through the rain to the convertible. As Nancy turned it left upon reaching Main Street, and Bess realized that they were headed for the business section of Francisville rather than Camp Merriweather, she inquired the reason. Nancy told of her recent clash with Judd Hillary outside Mrs. Strook's house.