032 The Crisscross Shadow by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

A Jeweled Dagger

ANOTHER mystery to solve!

“We’ll do our best, Chief Whitestone,” Frank said.

“And when he tells you that,” Chet spoke up, “it means they’ll solve it.”

Ted and his father smiled as the young detectives blushed at the compliment.

“When can we start?” Joe asked. “We’d like to begin right now because we’re due back at school in a week or so.”

“Yes, and it depends a little on where we’ll have to go,” Frank added. “Is it far away?”

“You can begin right here and now,” the chief replied. “In fact, you’ll have to solve the mystery in the next few days or else wait a whole year.”

With this baffling introduction he invited the boys to go back to his home and hear the full story. Seated before an open fire in a cozy room filled with Indian relics, he began the strange tale.

“We Ramapans are an old tribe. We were once a great and powerful nation, a leader among the Indians in this part of the country.

“But as the years passed, and the white men spread out, our territories grew smaller. Our people became fewer in number as tribal warfare and sickness took their toll. Gradually the Ramapans’ power was so weakened that we were forced to move north. This was many generations ago.

“Then, finally the wars stopped, and modem medicine cut down our death rate. We became prosperous, but still we were small and missed our former greatness,” he said with a faraway look.

“The tribe carefully held on to its savings from fishing and trapping. Then fifty-nine years ago the leaders made a decision. With my father as chief, they decided to pool their resources and move down from the wild north country. The place they chose was this very acreage, the site where our ancestors had lived.”

The boys had scarcely moved as the fascinating tale unfolded.

“My father and the tribe bought this land from the estate of a man named York.”

York! The name of one of the suspected gang!

“Was his name Philip York?” Frank asked.

“No,” Chief Whitestone replied. “It was Amos York. But after the tribe set up their new home, they didn’t find the peace and security they had expected.”

“What happened?” Joe asked.

The chief had paused to strike a match to his long pipe. He puffed a few times, then continued. “A neighboring tribe started to raid the Ramapans. They came every night, stealing and destroying our property and striking terror in the hearts of our people. But the Ramapans fought back even against heavy odds.

“My father was fearful the enemy would steal our deed to the property, as well as other valuable tribal records. So he buried them secretly, together with a jeweled dagger worth thousands of dollars that the Ramapans had had in their possession for generations. They had confiscated it after a battle with a French army two hundred years previously.”

“Where did your father bury the papers and the dagger?” Frank asked him.

Chief Whitestone shook his head. “That’s the mystery. Shortly afterward, he became ill and finally we realized he was dying.

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