the bricks.
“What does it look like?” asked George when Nancy reported her discovery.
“A lot of crisscross bars,” Nancy replied. “Maybe the coat of arms of the old mine owner.”
As she climbed down, Bess called from a distance, where she was standing on a little knoll. “I’ve got a good view of it from here.”
George started for the spot when suddenly Bess let out a terrifying scream. Her two friends ran toward her. When they reached the knoll, Bess was trembling with fear.
“What happened?” Nancy demanded.
“Oh, N-Nancy,” Bess said, pointing, “I saw a bony hand reach out of the chimney!”
Nancy and George looked. There was no sign of a hand. Bess said she had closed her eyes a moment to shut out the weird sight. When she had opened them again, the hand was gone.
“I think you’re goofy,” George scoffed. “A person sees things when he gets tired.”
“I’m not that tired,” Bess retorted. “I saw it. I know I did.”
In panic she dashed through the woods toward Nancy’s car. There was nothing for the other girls to do but follow her.
Nancy started the motor. Soon they were a good distance from the eerie spot.
“I never want to go there again,” Bess declared.
“Not even to help your cousin Dick?” Nancy asked with a grin.
Bess finally conceded maybe she would get over her fright, and she did want Dick to acquire the special clay if possible.
After Nancy drove the girls to their homes, she decided to drop into Dick’s shop and tell him of her latest discovery. She found a high school boy, who clerked for the young pottery maker after school, behind the counter.
“Would you like something, miss?” he asked.
“I’d like to see Mr. Milton.”
“He’s busy in the back of the shop right now,” the boy answered. “But he’ll be through in a minute. Will you wait?”
Nancy smiled. “He’s a friend of mine,” she said. “I’ll go back and see him.”
In the rear room Dick was engrossed at the potter’s wheel, his sandy hair tumbling over his forehead. He was so busy he did not notice his caller.
Nancy watched while Dick deftly pressed a lump of clay on the center of the wheel, then allowed it to rise between his fingers in a spiral column before depressing it.
Once more the column spiraled. The young man again pushed it down, at the same time centering and truing the clay. Then he pressed his thumbs into the soft clay, rapidly forming a cylinder.
With one hand inside the cylinder and the other outside, Dick molded the clay into the thickness he desired. Nancy now saw the cylinder shape like magic into a large jar.
Dick snapped off a switch and the whirring wheel slowly stopped. As he turned around, a look of pleased surprise spread over his face.
“Nancy Drew! How did you get here?”
“Simple. That jar you just made is Aladdin’s lamp. You rubbed it ... and I appeared!”
Dick laughed, then grew sober. “I wish we could conjure up a genie to find that China clay pit,” he said a bit ruefully.
“Maybe we don’t need a genie,” said Nancy.
“What do you mean?”
“We may have found the leaning chimney!” Nancy beamed.
Dick gasped. “Honestly?”
“I don’t know yet.” Nancy told Dick what she and her friends had discovered. “I’m going back soon to look more thoroughly.”
A boyish smile of hope lit Dick’s face as he escorted Nancy to the door.
“I’ll keep you posted on further developments,” Nancy promised.
After dinner that evening she accompanied her father to his study on the second floor.
“You’re up to something, young lady,” he said shrewdly. “What is it?”
Nancy told him of her visit to the strange enclosure. Mr. Drew frowned.
“I don’t like the sound of it,” he said. “Strikes me as a good place to stay away from.”
“But, Dad!” Nancy protested, her blue eyes growing large with emphasis. “There may be a valuable pit of China clay around there. And if I don’t go back, I’ll never find
“What does it look like?” asked George when Nancy reported her discovery.
“A lot of crisscross bars,” Nancy replied. “Maybe the coat of arms of the old mine owner.”
As she climbed down, Bess called from a distance, where she was standing on a little knoll. “I’ve got a good view of it from here.”
George started for the spot when suddenly Bess let out a terrifying scream. Her two friends ran toward her. When they reached the knoll, Bess was trembling with fear.
“What happened?” Nancy demanded.
“Oh, N-Nancy,” Bess said, pointing, “I saw a bony hand reach out of the chimney!”
Nancy and George looked. There was no sign of a hand. Bess said she had closed her eyes a moment to shut out the weird sight. When she had opened them again, the hand was gone.
“I think you’re goofy,” George scoffed. “A person sees things when he gets tired.”
“I’m not that tired,” Bess retorted. “I saw it. I know I did.”
In panic she dashed through the woods toward Nancy’s car. There was nothing for the other girls to do but follow her.
Nancy started the motor. Soon they were a good distance from the eerie spot.
“I never want to go there again,” Bess declared.
“Not even to help your cousin Dick?” Nancy asked with a grin.
Bess finally conceded maybe she would get over her fright, and she did want Dick to acquire the special clay if possible.
After Nancy drove the girls to their homes, she decided to drop into Dick’s shop and tell him of her latest discovery. She found a high school boy, who clerked for the young pottery maker after school, behind the counter.
“Would you like something, miss?” he asked.
“I’d like to see Mr. Milton.”
“He’s busy in the back of the shop right now,” the boy answered. “But he’ll be through in a minute. Will you wait?”
Nancy smiled. “He’s a friend of mine,” she said. “I’ll go back and see him.”
In the rear room Dick was engrossed at the potter’s wheel, his sandy hair tumbling over his forehead. He was so busy he did not notice his caller.
Nancy watched while Dick deftly pressed a lump of clay on the center of the wheel, then allowed it to rise between his fingers in a spiral column before depressing it.
Once more the column spiraled. The young man again pushed it down, at the same time centering and truing the clay. Then he pressed his thumbs into the soft clay, rapidly forming a cylinder.
With one hand inside the cylinder and the other outside, Dick molded the clay into the thickness he desired. Nancy now saw the cylinder shape like magic into a large jar.
Dick snapped off a switch and the whirring wheel slowly stopped. As he turned around, a look of pleased surprise spread over his face.
“Nancy Drew! How did you get here?”
“Simple. That jar you just made is Aladdin’s lamp. You rubbed it ... and I appeared!”
Dick laughed, then grew sober. “I wish we could conjure up a genie to find that China clay pit,” he said a bit ruefully.
“Maybe we don’t need a genie,” said Nancy.
“What do you mean?”
“We may have found the leaning chimney!” Nancy beamed.
Dick gasped. “Honestly?”
“I don’t know yet.” Nancy told Dick what she and her friends had discovered. “I’m going back soon to look more thoroughly.”
A boyish smile of hope lit Dick’s face as he escorted Nancy to the door.
“I’ll keep you posted on further developments,” Nancy promised.
After dinner that evening she accompanied her father to his study on the second floor.
“You’re up to something, young lady,” he said shrewdly. “What is it?”
Nancy told him of her visit to the strange enclosure. Mr. Drew frowned.
“I don’t like the sound of it,” he said. “Strikes me as a good place to stay away from.”
“But, Dad!” Nancy protested, her blue eyes growing large with emphasis. “There may be a valuable pit of China clay around there. And if I don’t go back, I’ll never find
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