The Witch Tree Symbol (11 page)

Once more the girls returned to the house. Again Bess bent over so that Nancy might pull herself up through the trap-door opening.

“Here, take my pocket flashlight,” George offered as Nancy peered into the dark opening.

“Thanks.”

Nimbly, the slim girl hoisted herself into the small attic. Beaming the flashlight about, for a moment Nancy saw nothing. Then her alert eyes picked out a dust-covered object shoved far back under the eaves. She crawled over to it.

Nancy brushed off a layer of dirt from the article and discovered that it was an old German Bible about ten by twelve inches in size. Its cover was brittle and frayed.

Picking it up gently, Nancy returned to the trap door. “Bess, will you please take this?” she requested. “And be careful with it.”

Getting on her knees, Nancy held on to the edge of the opening with one hand, and with the other she passed the Bible to Bess. Then she lightly swung herself downward and jumped to the floor.

The girls hastened to examine the old book. The flyleaf was speckled with brown from age. Nancy, noticing some faded writing in ink, shone her light on the page, and read aloud, “‘Given to Rachel Hoelt by her parents at the time of her marriage.’ ”

“Hypers!” George exclaimed. “Do you suppose this house is still owned by the Hoelt family?”

“If it were,” Nancy said, “I think the police would have looked here for Roger Hoelt.”

Bess thought the crook might have known the house was empty and used it as a hiding place, but Nancy pointed out it contained none of the stolen furniture that was missing from the carriage she and Ned had recovered.

“Also,” she reasoned, “Roger Hoelt uses both an automobile and a horse and buggy. He couldn’t drive either of them in here. Besides, this house shows no signs of recent occupancy.”

“I agree,” said George, “but the witch tree could be a signpost. We’ll keep on looking.”

Nancy agreed and also felt they should take the old Bible with them and leave it at the Glicks’ for safekeeping. Later, she would search for law-abiding members of the Hoelt family who might be interested in preserving this valuable find.

“I think Roger Hoelt probably was the person we surprised in the attic,” Bess now declared. “Maybe he was looking for this book and we interrupted his search.”

They wrapped the Bible carefully in some of the old newspapers and carried it to the car.

“I have a hunch that we may be narrowing our search for Roger Hoelt and Manda Kreutz,” she announced as they drove away.

“By now, Manda may be back home,” George mused, thinking that the Amish girl might have found out the Hoelts’ true aims and character.

“Perhaps,” said Nancy doubtfully. “But I think we would have heard of it through the grapevine if she had returned to her family. Later we can stop at the Kreutz farm and see.”

By the time they got back to the Glick home, Mrs. Glick had returned from the quilting party. She was bustling about, preparing dinner.

“Something smells mighty good!” George smiled.

Mrs. Glick wiped her hands on her apron. “We are having ‘old shoes’ and
milich flitche.
‘Old shoes’ are mashed potatoes inside of a dumpling. The
milich flitche
is pie,” she went on, “made of flour, cream, sugar, and cinnamon.”

During the delicious meal the girls told of their day’s experiences, and asked if Mrs. Glick could explain the odd-looking tree they had seen.

The woman nodded. “It has
hex
bayse growing on its branches. That means witch’s broom.”

This information made the girls feel even more sure that at last they were on the right track. They told the Glicks of their plan to call on the Kreutzes to see if Manda had returned.

“I’m sure that if she had,” Mrs. Glick said, “the women at the quilting party would have known about it. One of them did say that the Kreutzes think you’re responsible for Manda’s vanishing.”

“That’s why they acted so peculiarly!” Nancy exclaimed, recalling the couple’s strange actions.

“Maybe they decided we had encouraged Manda to learn more about life away from the farm,” Bess said.

Despite this, Nancy and Bess left for the Kreutz homestead after dinner. George remained behind, since her ankle was throbbing a bit.

“If Manda isn’t here,” Bess said, “I’d hate to have Papa Kreutz go into a rage again when we arrive.”

Nancy grinned at this remark as she drove up the lane to the farm. She parked, then walked with Bess to the door of the house. Bess was about to knock when the door was opened by Mrs. Kreutz.

The woman grabbed each girl by a shoulder and yanked her inside crying,
“Dummel dich!”

 

 

 

MRS. Kreutz quickly closed the kitchen door behind Nancy and Bess, and said, “Please to forgive me for speaking Pennsylvania Dutch to you. I was saying ‘hurry’!”

“What’s the matter?” Bess asked quickly.

Manda’s mother looked around as if afraid someone would hear her reply. In a whisper she said, “I could not let you stay outdoors. Papa has come to believe you girls persuaded Manda to run away. He has told many people this. If he should drive in now, please run yourselves the front door out.”

Nancy felt that she should remind Mrs. Kreutz that the convertible parked outside was a dead giveaway. But before she could say a word, Mrs. Kreutz asked breathlessly, “Have you news of Manda?”

“We were hoping she might have returned home,” Nancy replied. “We haven’t been able to find her.”

Mrs. Kreutz wrung her hands. “Oh, my little daughter!” she wailed. “If it had not been for Papa saying no one could talk to her, she would be here now. I am so afraid she is in danger.”

The girls agreed with this but did not voice their opinion. Instead, they assured Mrs. Kreutz that they were doing everything possible to find Manda.

“The police are trying to locate Mr. and Mrs. Hoelt, the people we think Manda is working for,” Bess added.

Nancy brought the girl’s mother up-to-date on all that had happened, ending with the question, “The man on the street who spoke to Manda’s cousin Melinda, said, ‘Get to the
schnitz!’
Have you any idea what he meant?”

When Mrs. Kreutz said no, Nancy asked whether the woman had ever heard of a storehouse for dried apples in the neighborhood. At this remark Mrs. Kreutz turned pale. Grasping Nancy’s hand, she said, “Manda asked me that very question!”

“I believe that’s where she has gone,” Nancy said. “Where is the storehouse?”

Sadly the Amish woman admitted that she did not know. She had never heard of such a place.

“If Manda was trying to find it,” said Nancy, “where would she go to get information about it?”

Mrs. Kreutz replied that there was one very old man in the neighborhood who might be able to help. “He knows about everything that took place long ago,” she said. “I have never heard of any new storehouses, so this place must have been used years ago.”

“Who is this man and where does he live?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“He’s Groeszdawdi Esch,” Mrs. Kreutz answered. “He lives in one end of a three-generation house.”

Bess wanted to know what this was, and Mrs. Kreutz explained that in Amish country, families rarely separate. Sometimes a man will build a house on part of his property for a son about to be married. “Other parents,” she said, “build a wing onto the main house, and the father and mother move into it when one of the sons marries.”

“And where does the third house come in?” Bess asked.

Mrs. Kreutz said it was hard to explain this in English. Anyway, there were three houses attached, each smaller than the one beside it. In the smallest house lived the grandfather, in the center building was the father, and in the largest house was the grandson and his family.

“Groeszdawdi Esch lives in the smallest house,” she said. Pointing in a northwesterly direction, she added, “If you could fly like a crow, you would hit on it.”

“I’m sure we can find it,” Nancy said. “And now we had better go before your husband returns.”

Mrs. Kreutz said yes. He had gone to a cow sale to sell the ugly bull that had attacked him, but he probably would be home any minute. The girls hurried outside, climbed into the car, and drove off.

They found the Esch farm with little trouble. As they reached the barn they were surprised to see a dozen Amish carriages assembled. “There must be a party going on,” Nancy said.

At that moment a young boy carrying a bucket of apple parings dashed out of a small stone building. He dumped the contents of the pail into the pigsty.

“I’ll bet this is an apple
schnitzing,”
Bess remarked.

Realizing that Groeszdawdi Esch and everyone else on the farm would be in the kettle house, Nancy and Bess got out of the car and went directly there.

“Doesn’t it smell heavenly!” said Bess as she sniffed the spicy aroma coming from the building.

Nancy and Bess stepped inside and watched the busy scene with fascination. Seated on chairs and apple crates were several men and women, old and young. Each one held a metal, box-shaped apple parer on his lap. It worked with a quick turn of the handle and rapidly took the skin off the apple. Next, the fruit was cored and put into large kettles, which were lifted into a warm oven. Here the moisture would be baked out.

Several minutes passed before the girls were noticed. Then a young woman left her work and came over to ask if she could be of assistance to them. Nancy stated that she had come to talk to Groeszdawdi Esch.

“I will get him,” the woman offered.

Presently an elderly man with snow-white hair and beard approached them. He had kindly blue eyes, and despite his advanced age was tall and erect.

The old man smiled pleasantly at the visitors. “Groeszdawdi can help you?” he asked.

Nancy explained that she was looking for a place known as the
schnitz,
which she thought was an old-time dried-apple storehouse.

“Ach, ya,”
the man said. “I know the place. A long time ago it belonged to a farmer named Hoelt.”

Nancy could hardly conceal her excitement. “Yes, go on,” she urged.

“The Hoelts have not lived there for a long time,” Groeszdawdi went on. “They sold the place to city people named Fuller. But now they have abandoned it.”

“Why?” Bess spoke up.

Groeszdawdi Esch looked first at one girl, then the other. “Before I tell you, explain why you want to know about it.”

Nancy wondered what was behind the elderly man’s question, but she replied that Manda Kreutz was missing, and that she thought Manda might be hiding at the
schnitz.

The girls waited for Mr. Esch to translate. In a moment he did. “It’s dangerous! It’s like death!”

He went on to say that if Manda were there, she, too, might vanish mysteriously, as many others had on that farm.

“But why?” Nancy cried. “Tell us so that we can save her!”

Groeszdawdi Esch shook his head and wagged a finger at the girls. “Stay away from that spot! It is bad luck—very bad luck!”

 

 

 

WOULD Groeszdawdi Esch refuse to tell them where the
schnitz
was? Nancy and Bess wondered. Since he had pronounced it a dangerous place from which people had disappeared, it was unlikely that he would reveal its location.

Nancy, however, finally persuaded him to tell her where the place was. He hesitated a long time, then finally said, “Go four miles north from here. You will see a lane running through a field that has not been tilled for years. The road is overgrown and rutty. Nobody uses it, but you can’t miss it if you keep your eyes open.”

On a hunch Nancy asked whether there was another house on the property some distance from the main building. Groeszdawdi Esch nodded, saying that the old Hoelt family had several children. The father had built houses for them in several locations on the property.

“Was one of the women named Rachel Hoelt?” Nancy asked.

The old man looked at her searchingly and asked how she happened to know of a Rachel Hoelt, who had died fifty years before. Nancy said that she had seen an old Bible with the name in it.

“That’s the farm,” he said. “But I’m telling you again, stay away from it!”

“Why is it dangerous?” Bess spoke up.

Groeszdawdi Esch took a deep breath, then began his story. He used so many Pennsylvania Dutch words and phrases with English that it was difficult for the girls to understand him. But after they had questioned him several times, Nancy and Bess finally got the gist of the tale.

A long time ago, the storyteller related, when the Hoelts lived on the farm, some members of their family vanished mysteriously and were never seen again. Neighbors concluded that there was a hex on the family. One day a band of gypsies came along, and they set up their tents on the property.

“Old Mr. Hoelt was furious,” Groeszdawdi said. “He was sure the gypsies would bring him even worse luck. He ordered them away, but instead of leaving they only moved to the woods on his property.”

It seemed that old Mr. Hoelt was not aware of this, but several of his children went to the encampment and became friendly with the gypsies. One of the women was a beautiful, young fortuneteller. Mr. Hoelt’s eldest son and she fell in love and planned to marry.

The old man found out and stopped the marriage by threatening to disinherit his son. The fortuneteller was furious. She told him that she knew the secret of why members of his family had disappeared, but she would never tell him unless he consented to the marriage. It was a terrible choice for the old man to make, but he decided to keep his son at home.