"He didn't say."

Roscoe asked Nancy if she would like to speak to Tom Wilson. When she said Yes, the pilot told her he expected the man to arrive at the airfield about midmorning.

"I'll introduce you," he said.

This was just what Nancy wanted! She turned to Art, "Could you possibly stay a little longer?"

The archaeology student shook his head. "Sorry, but a promise is a promise. I must be back at the dig by ten. Several of us are working on a certain section and each one of us has a particular task."

"I understand," Nancy said.

Seeing Nancy's look of disappointment, Art said, "Maybe this Tom Wilson will get here before ten. I can give you a half hour. In the meantime I'll run into town and pick up some food supplies."

Nancy was grateful. "I'll make a few phone calls. If Mr. Wilson should arrive, will you let me know?" she asked Roscoe.

"Will do."

The young detective hurried to a phone booth alongside the airfield building. She called her home, hoping her father would still be there, but he had already left for his law office.

Hannah Gruen reported that everything was fine, and Bess and George were eager to join Nancy. "They still want to help you solve the mystery-that is, unless you have already done so."

"I'm far from solving it," Nancy answered. "The case is fascinating, but I'm making very slow progress. By the way, you can write or telegraph me in care of Clem Rucker at Walmsley. He'll bring the message over to the dig."

Nancy had just said this when there was a tap on the gla.s.s door of the booth. She turned to see Roscoe standing there.

As Nancy pushed open the door a crack, the pilot said, "Here comes Mr. Wilson now!"

CHAPTER VI.

Ear to the Ground

"OH, Hannah, I must go now," Nancy said hurriedly. "I'll call again."

She hung up the phone and rushed from the booth. Roscoe motioned her to follow him. A short distance ahead a gray-haired man with a decided limp was approaching the building. He had a full mustache and a chin beard.

"This can't be Kit Kadle," Nancy told herself, and yet there seemed to be something familiar about the man. Roscoe introduced him and Nancy.

"Pleased to meet you," Mr. Wilson said in an affected voice.

Nancy found herself staring intently at him. Could he be Kit Kadle in disguise?

Mr. Wilson smiled. "Aren't you the girl I saw hacking at a tree near a dig site?"

"Yes I am," Nancy replied.

When she gave no explanation, he asked her why she was doing it. Nancy smiled and replied, "Just examining the oak." She changed the subject. "Weren't you staying at the Riverside Hotel in St. Louis?"

The man shook his head. "Never heard of it," he said in his affected voice and limped off. Nancy wondered where he was going.

At that moment Art roared up on his motorcycle. Nancy climbed aboard and they headed for the dig. Art asked her if she had learned anything.

"Yes and no," she replied. "I talked with Mr. Wilson. I think he's Kit Kadle in disguise."

"Whether he's Kit Kadle or Tom Wilson," said Art, "I advise you to forget him."

"Okay," Nancy agreed. "At least I won't talk about him."

"Don't get the wrong idea," Art said. "I want to see you solve the mystery and I'd like to help but right now let's just enjoy this ride!"

Nancy made a point of doing just that. She and Art laughed and joked the rest of the way to the dig. They found everyone else at work. The only person not in or around the pit was Julie Anne, whose turn it was to prepare luncheon. She was in the kitchen struggling with an old-fashioned oil-burning stove.

"This oven just won't get hot," she complained. "I'm afraid to turn the burners any higher for fear I might blow up the whole house!"

As Nancy helped her adjust the stove, she told Julie Anne about Mr. Wilson. Then, after changing her clothes, she went to the barn which was being used as a laboratory.

Several students were seated at trestle tables brushing dirt from bones and bits of pottery. One girl was patiently putting together pieces of a broken bowl.

"What can I do to help?" Nancy asked Theresa.

"Dig," she answered with a smile. Theresa handed Nancy a child-sized shovel, a teaspoon, a fine sieve, and a camel's-hair dusting brush.

"Every inch of ground is important," the leader said. "You must work very carefully in order not to discard anything worth saving."

Nancy promised to be cautious and walked over to the excavation in front of the farmhouse. It seemed much larger than when she had first arrived. Nevertheless she scrambled down the side, thinking, "If they go much deeper, the diggers will need a ladder."

After watching the other workers for several minutes, Nancy knelt and gently used the little shovel to place earth in the sieve. Carefully she crumbled it through the fine wire mesh. All that remained in the strainer were several pieces of gravel. After four tries she had about decided there was nothing in that spot, when a tiny piece of white caught her eye. She moved closer to it and this time used her teaspoon. Suddenly she had a chunk of earth on it which contained a piece of bone. Excitedly Nancy put it into the sieve and gently shook the dirt. In a few moments a bone fragment half an inch long lay exposed.

Gleefully Nancy cried out, "I've found something!"

The other diggers hurried to her side.

"Do you think it's a finger bone?" asked Julie Anne, who had joined the group.

At once Claire Warwick spoke up. "That's obviously a metatarsal bone, not a phalange."

"Not a what?" asked Nancy.

"Phalange-that's what we scientists call toe or finger bones," Claire replied loftily. "But this is neither one. It's part of the skeleton of the forefoot."

"Wait a minute," said Theresa, stepping forward. "Let's see that."

Nancy handed her the bit of bone.

"This is a segment of an infant's finger," said Theresa. "Better check your anatomy book again, Claire."

Two boys, with whom Claire was not popular, burst into laughter. "Better watch out, Claire," said Bill Munson. "First thing you know you'll be connecting the ankle bones to the neck bones."