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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.”
    The girl flushed angrily, but said nothing.
    Theresa urged Nancy to look for more of the skeleton and she worked diligently the rest of the day, but had no luck.
    Finally it was quitting time. The weary diggers came to the surface, and went to change their clothes. Some started to prepare supper.
    Nancy came outside and dropped to the ground for a brief rest and to think about the secret in the hollow oak. She found herself dozing and turned on her side.
    Suddenly her attention was directed to a sound she detected on the ground. Listening closely, Nancy decided it was a car. Who was coming?
    She sat up and watched the road that led to the dig. No car appeared, so again the young detective put her ear to the ground and listened. Now there was nothing but silence.
    “Someone must have parked,” she thought. The idea made her uneasy. She stood up and went into the house. A few of the boys had gathered in the living room. Nancy told them what she had heard.
    “Maybe I’m silly to be suspicious,” she said, “but I have a hunch that Kit Kadle may come here and attempt some mischief. You know, two people have warned me against him.”
    Art spoke up. “I don’t think you’re silly at all. This house and the dig should be protected as well as you. Okay with you guys if we take turns standing guard here at night?”
    “Great idea,” replied Bob Snell. “You give out the shifts and I’ll be on the job.”
    Nancy smiled at them all. “I’m sorry to be a troublemaker in your group, but—”
    “Stop that!” Art interrupted her. “It will be an exciting change to play detective.” He arranged time shifts and took the first one himself.
    Dinner was announced. The group ate heartily and retired early. Nancy found it hard to sleep. She could not keep her mind off the fact that Kit Kadle might show up at the farmhouse. If so, what would he try to do? She felt sure he was the one who had let the goat into the house. This time his mischief might cause serious harm.
    Finally, after tossing and turning for an hour, she got up, pulled on her clothes, and went outdoors. It was a bright, starry night and objects were clearly distinguishable.
    Almost instantly Art was at her side. He gave a low chuckle. “I thought you were Kit Kadle’s girl friend.”
    Nancy grinned and started to walk around the farmhouse with him. Just then they became aware of light footsteps not far away. The couple hid behind bushes.
    The stealthy footsteps came from the rear of the house. Nancy and Art fully expected someone to enter the front door. Instead they saw a man going toward the dig carrying a ladder.
    Moving quietly the couple followed him across the yard and into the field. They saw the figure set the ladder into the excavation.
    Nancy whispered.