The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

by Campbell, Julie

  The Wheelers had a stable and several horses which the Bob-Whites were encouraged to exercise. Mrs. Wheeler’s horse, Lady, was Trixie’s favorite. She was a dappled gray mare who had an unusual habit of “blowing herself up” when being saddled. Usually the cinch had to be retightened after riding some distance because the saddle would start to slip. Susie was a beautiful black mare that Trixie and Honey had purchased for Miss Trask with the reward money they’d earned after solving a mystery. Although Honey had her own horse, she often rode Susie because she was so gentle.

  Regan was delighted to see the girls, and he quickly saddled Susie and Lady.

  “Now don’t get them overheated,” he warned as they rode out of the stable. “And make sure you bring them back soon, and groom them, and put away the tack. And be careful.”

  “We will,” Honey called as she and Trixie trotted off down the driveway. Bill Regan took his job seriously. He had been known to get upset with them if they did anything careless or unsafe while riding.

  “We’ll see you later!” Trixie called over her shoulder. “And don’t worry about us. We’re always very careful.”

  The two girls broke into a canter and disappeared down one of the smooth trails through the woods.

  8 * More Information

  The shaded path that Susie and Lady followed soon emerged onto the shoulder of Glen Road. After checking for traffic in both directions, the girls guided their horses across the road and headed onto a new path. They followed it for a while, and then picked up another of the many paths that threaded through the preserve. This one led past the dig site, but the girls didn’t mind.

  “It’s late,” Trixie said, “and Charles has probably left for the city by now. Why don’t we swing past the village site and see if we can find anything there that looks like what was on the map.”

  Soon the horses broke through into the bug-infested part of the woods where the village site was located. No one was there, and Trixie slowly slid off Lady and started walking around. Suddenly she stopped.

  The little clearing sloped gradually up a slight rise. Trixie was standing near a large fallen tree. A few feet in front of her, a huge hole had been dug out of the hummock, and piles of fresh dirt were scattered all around the hole.

  “Wow,” Honey said with a whistle as she came up behind Trixie to survey the rubble. “Somebody was pretty busy here this afternoon.”

  “He certainly was,” Trixie agreed. “And it doesn’t look as if he was using proper archaeological methods, either.”

  “Whoever did this used a shovel and a pick,” Honey agreed. “It would take a year to get this much dirt out using that little scratching tool Professor Conroy gave us.”

  “No kidding,” Trixie said. “No sifting or anything! You can bet that whoever dug this hole wasn’t looking for any Indian artifacts. He was looking for something else!”

  “Unless, of course, he wasn’t an archaeologist,” Honey said with a wry smile.

  “Oh, I think an archaeologist dug this hole,” Trixie muttered. “And there’s only one archaeologist I can think of who would bother.”

  “Right. The archaeologist who thinks he found a treasure map in the Historical Society archive room!”

  “He may have the treasure map,” Trixie said, grinning, “but by the looks of this hole, I don’t think he found the treasure yet. Do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “This is probably the wrong place,” Trixie said with a laugh as she got back on her horse. “Well, I hope he enjoys digging holes.” Honey laughed too. “And it looks like he’s got an awful lot of digging ahead of him!” They rode away from the village site. The day had cooled down, so they decided to keep the horses out for a while longer before returning to the stables. They chose a path through a blackberry thicket. Stopping briefly, they pulled some ripe berries off the bushes and popped them into their mouths. Trixie decided they should return in a few days and pick the rest before the birds got to them. She knew her mother would use them to make her special blackberry jam.

  They rode on until they reached the edge of Mrs. Vanderpoel’s property, then they turned back. Going past the old orchard, Trixie pulled up her horse. There in the orchard was Old Brom. A chubby old man with a bush of white whiskers, he lived in a small cottage on the land which had belonged to his family since the seventeenth century. Now the land was part of the Wheeler game preserve. Very proud, and usually very shy, Old Brom was a treasure trove of wonderful old ghost stories which he liked to tell to the neighborhood children.

  “Let’s ask Brom if he knows the name ‘Depew,’ ” Trixie suggested. “After all, he knows so much about this area.”

  The girls dismounted, looped the bridles around a fence post, and walked over to Old Brom.

  “Nice day,” he mumbled into his long beard. “Care for an apple?”

  “No thanks, Brom,” Trixie said. “We were wondering about something, and thought maybe you could help us.”

  “Dunno,” Brom replied tersely. Then his eyes twinkled. “Mebbe.”

  “Have you ever heard of the name ‘Depew’ in these parts?” Honey asked. “We think maybe it was an old family that died out.”

  “Depew,” Brom said slowly. “Of course, I’ve heard of the Depews. Long time ago, though. All history now.”

  “Really?” Trixie gasped. “Where was their property?”

  “Right here,” Brom said with a shy smile. “Well, not here, exactly. Back down Glen Road a ways. Right across from the Wheeler place. Used to be a big old mansion, but it burned down in a mysterious fire long about the time of the Revolution. Never did get built back up again.

  “Owned all the land around here, the Depews did. Some say the son went crazy after the place burned down. I don’t know that for sure, of course, but he never did come back. Disappeared. Land was later bought by the family that built your place, Honey.” Trixie shot Honey a warning look.

  “That’s really interesting, Brom,” Honey said slowly. She realized that it was probably best not to mention why they wanted to know about the Depews.

  “Glad to oblige,” Brom said. “As a matter of fact, there’s a good ghost story about the Depews, but I’ll tell you the next time I see you. Have to get over to see Mrs. Vanderpoel. Promised her I’d bring her some apples. She’s going to bake a pie.”

  “And give it to you to eat, right?” Trixie asked merrily. “She makes the best pies in the world.”

  “That she does,” Brom answered. “I’d pick apples for Mrs. V. any day, as long as I get to eat some of her pie.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Trixie said. “We have to get back, too. Regan gets upset if we keep the horses out too long.”

  Trixie and Honey waved good-bye to Brom and quickly trotted the horses along the path to Glen Road. They knew it would be quicker going back on the road than through the paths, and it was getting dark.

  “What a break,” Trixie said. “The Depew house was right here on the preserve. I’ll bet the cave is right where Charles thinks it is!”

  “Me, too,” said Honey. “We’d better look at that map more closely. If Charles is on the right track, so are we.”

  “I’d be a lot more comfortable if all the Bob-Whites could investigate this one,” Trixie stated. “Let’s call a short meeting for tonight after dinner.”

  That night at the clubhouse, Trixie explained what had happened to the assembled Bob-Whites. Di and Dan sat on the floor, while Mart paced back and forth eating crackers out of a giant economy-sized box. Reddy was there, too, watching Mart pace the way a judge watches a tennis match. Back and forth, back and forth went Reddy’s head. Brian looked bored.

  “After Charles took the diary, I made a rubbing of what had been drawn on the pad,” Trixie said. “I have a copy of the map right here. The only problem was finding out where the Depew property was. Luckily, we ran into Old Brom, and he told us that the whole game preserve was once owned by the Depew family. Their house was across the road from the Manor House, so tha
t puts it right where the dig site is now.”

  “Ved-dy in-ter-est-ing, Miss Belden,” Mart mumbled through a mouthful of crackers. “Do you have these insights often?”

  Trixie ignored Mart’s remark and went right on talking. “My theory is that Charles Miller somehow found out that there was treasure on this land, and he decided to dig for it. But Professor Conroy disrupted his plans, first by appointing him student head of the dig, and then by assigning us to the very spot where Charles thought the treasure was buried. Charles hit Professor Conroy on the head to get him out of the way for a while—-just long enough for him to find the treasure. The trouble was, Honey and I got in his way. First we showed up on the village site; and then we found the diary that he left on the table in the archive room.”

  “I think we should all investigate the village site before Charles gets back from the city tomorrow morning,” Honey said. “We know he’s already started digging for the treasure, because we saw a giant hole there this afternoon when we rode by on our horses.”

  “Show me the alleged map,” Mart said. “This theory isn’t very convincing so far.” Trixie reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out the rubbing she’d made earlier, along with another piece of paper.

  “I recopied it so it would be easier to read,” she said as she handed both pieces of paper to her skeptical brother.

  Mart examined the map, then said with a shrug, “Well, why not? Going on a treasure hunt is always fun. And we can always catch fireflies if we don’t find any treasure.”

  “Well, I’m not going to get involved in this nonsense,” Brian said moodily. “I don’t believe all this stuff about a treasure, and what’s more, I think you’re all wrong about Charles.” Trixie felt bad that Brian wasn’t taking her seriously, but she had to continue her investigation, anyway. “I’m sorry. I’d like your help,” she said to her brother. “But I know you need more proof, and I’ll find it sooner or later.” Brian went over to the door. “I’m sorry too, Trix. But this is one mystery I’m not interested in. Count me out.”

  The door closed behind him.

  There was a short silence after Brian left. Then Dan asked, “Do we have any flashlights here? There’s no point in all of us staggering around in the woods, bumping into each other.”

  “Here are two,” Di said. “That means we need three more.”

  “I’ll run up to the garage and get them,” Honey said, heading for the door. “I know where they’re kept.”

  Honey returned a few moments later, and the five young people were ready to go investigating.

  “This is exciting,” Mart said. “All we have to do is find a treasure before we’re eaten alive by mosquitoes.”

  Walking quickly, the Bob-Whites reached the village site through one of the back paths. They didn’t want to alert the graduate students to their presence. Reddy was crashing around in and out of the bushes, making a lot of noise. Trixie tried to hush him up and make the excited dog walk quietly beside her, but it was no use. Reddy was intoxicated by the scent of small animals and was not about to be controlled. Sounds of noisy laughter and singing floated through the trees. It was obvious that even if the interlopers were to set off a few firecrackers, the students wouldn’t have the slightest inkling that they weren’t alone.

  Once at the village site, Trixie started digging away with her hands at the low hillside where Charles had begun his search. Great clods of dirt went flying behind her. Dan found a long stick and was poking the earth to see if it sank in anywhere. Mart was marching back and forth giving unwanted advice.

  “Mart, if you’re so smart,” Trixie finally said, looking up from her digging, “why didn’t you remember to bring a shovel? It’s not easy to dig for treasure with your bare hands.”

  “Clever,” Mart said, scratching his chin. “Very clever—for a novice.”

  “Novice indeed!” Trixie said with a snort.

  Reddy, inspired by Trixie’s digging, started digging his own hole right next to her. In seconds, a thick spray of dirt coated Trixie from head to toe.

  “Stop that, Reddy!” she scolded.

  Reddy jumped up and down, covering Trixie with dog kisses, and then went happily back to his digging.

  “Get the dog to do the dirty work,” Mart said with a smirk.

  In the meantime, Dan and Di were examining the map with their flashlights.

  “If there were a cave around here, it would have to be made of limestone,” Dan said thoughtfully. “But there are no rock formations anywhere in this area, so the cave would have to be underground, not in the side of a hill. I think Charles was digging in the wrong place.”

  “Isn’t that a tree?” Di said, pointing to a spot on the map. “I guess it would have to be a pretty big tree by now, since that map was drawn at least two hundred years ago.”

  “Wait a minute,” Trixie said. “Maybe this giant log is part of that old tree. It certainly looks fat enough to be over two hundred years old. And the other trees around here look like second growth. They’re not tall, and their trunks are thin. Maybe this place was once a meadow.”

  “All this conjecture is ridiculous without a shovel,” Mart said pompously. “I’m glad I thought of it.”

  “You didn’t think of it,” Trixie muttered.

  Honey quickly jabbed her elbow into Trixie’s ribs.

  “Yes, he did,” Honey said quickly. “And since he thought of it, he should be the one to go get it.”

  “Great thinking, Honey,” Trixie put in with a laugh. “Bring two while you’re at it—they’re small.”

  “I’d better go with you,” Dan said. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost in the woods.”

  “I would never get lost in the woods, old man,” Mart was saying as they left the clearing. “But I’m glad you came along. I need someone to carry the shovels for me.”

  The girls heard Dan burst out laughing. “That’s why I brought you, Mart,” he joked.

  Reddy bounded through the bushes after the two boys.

  “There goes our digging machine,” said Trixie. “Let’s just sit down and wait for the shovels.”

  Honey laughed and tossed her hair. “You’re right,” she said. “There’s no sense breaking a fingernail over something as minor as a treasure.”

  “Fingernail?” Di said glumly. “We’d more likely break an ankle trying to see our way in the dark. Sitting down is not only restful, it’s smart, if you ask me.”

  The three girls sat down to wait.

  9 * The Ghost

  Trixie, Honey, and Di sat huddled together on the fallen log, and listened. The sounds made by Mart and Dan stomping through the woods grew faint. Soon all was silent, and Trixie felt a shiver of apprehension between her shoulder blades.

  “It sure is dark in these woods,” Honey said miserably.

  “It’s not so dark,” Trixie answered, trying to sound cheerful. Then she looked around. The sun was sinking rapidly. “Well, maybe it’s a little dark,” she added.

  “I don’t like being in the woods in the dark,” Di said. “I should have stayed home.”

  “What makes you say a thing like that?” Trixie asked loudly. She hoped the sound of her own words would make everyone feel better—herself included. “This is going to be exciting. The boys will be back any minute now, and then we’ll have a real treasure hunt!” But Trixie’s voice had a false ring. The cheerful tones sounded hollow.

  After a few moments, as if on cue, the three friends moved closer together on the log. Soon their shoulders were touching.

  “D-do you think there are g-ghosts in these woods?” Di stammered.

  “Don’t be silly,” Honey snapped. “There’s no such thing as a ghost.”

  Di wasn’t convinced. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Honey’s right,” Trixie said meekly. “There aren’t any ghosts.”

  “Then why are you looking all around like that?” Di asked Trixie.

  Trixie didn’t have an answer to Di’s question. N
one of the girls could think of anything else to say. Di started to whistle. Honey began to hum. The bugs droned on, and the cicadas seemed louder than usual. Suddenly the girls became aware of another noise, which was rapidly getting louder than the insects.

  Trixie snapped her head around just in time to see a weird, glowing apparition float through the trees and swoop to the edge of the clearing. Before she could open her mouth, the horrible thing began to wail. Its voice was a high-pitched, eerie quaver.

  The three girls grabbed each other as the skeletal figure, draped in moldy-looking rags and tendrils of cobwebs and tree roots, came closer and closer. Its head looked like an old skull, with long gray hair that fell down over empty eye sockets. An iridescent yellow glow emanated from its body as it menacingly waved a big gnarled stick in their direction.

  “A ghost!” Di shrieked. Her voice was a thin wail, almost as high-pitched as the horrible noise coming from the ugly creature.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the glowing thing floated off into the trees. Trixie dropped her flashlight. It landed on the log with a loud thump. She groped blindly until she finally found the reassuring cylindrical object. Grasping it hard, she started to stand up. Honey and Di rose at the same time.

  With a speed born of fear, the three girls launched themselves off the log and down the path that led out of the clearing, far away from the awful monster. They raced toward the clubhouse.

  “I told you,” Trixie gasped as they crossed Glen Road. “The ghosts of those dead Indians are angry at us! We’ve been tramping all over their sacred burial ground.”

  At last the girls reached the clubhouse. Di moaned softly as they slumped against the side of the building. “I’m sorry I ever got mixed up in this.”

  “It couldn’t have been a ghost,” Honey said, panting heavily. “I don’t believe in them, and neither should you. There has to be another explanation, there just has to.”

  Trixie’s breathing was returning to normal, and with it, her ability to think clearly. “I wonder...” she began. “Remember the headless horseman, Honey?”