The Hudson River Mystery

serpents and the various ”sightings” people had reported, mostly in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Fascinated, she read description after description of horrible monsters with fangs, long tongues, and bright eyes.
    Without thinking, she exclaimed, ”Gleeps! I hope Mart never sees this. He’ll have ammunition to tease me with for a whole year!”
    Trixie heard a ”sshhh” aimed at her from across the room. She looked up guiltily and then flipped to the next chapter, called ”Sunken Treasure.”
    Immediately, Trixie hunched over the book, engrossed by text and pictures. Despite Thea’s scoffing, Trixie still loved to think about the possibility of sunken treasure lying close to home. Perhaps she could pick up a few facts to tell Thea.
    ”Are you finding what you need?” came a quiet voice beside her.
    Trixie nearly jumped out of her chair. ”Wh-why, yes,” she stammered.
    ”Good,” said the librarian, smiling. She peered over Trixie’s shoulder. ”Sunken treasure, hmm?”
    ”I’ve always liked reading about that,” Trixie confessed.
    ”Really? You know about our file downstairs, then?”
    ”What file?”
    ”Oh, you simply must look at it sometime,” whispered the librarian. ”It’s in the downstairs reference room—a folder full of newspaper clippings on local treasure-hunting. It’s a very popular file. Just a few weeks ago, there was a man—a young man with a mustache, from out of town, he said—who wanted to see it.”
    ”I’d love to look at it!” Trixie glanced at her watch and decided that she still had some time left before Brian was due to pick her up.
    ”Watch your step going downstairs,” the librarian warned softly. ”The folder is labeled ’Treasure’ and—”
    Trixie was already walking toward the door to the basement. ”Thanks a lot!” she said.
    The librarian smiled wearily and put her forefinger to her lips.
    Hastily Trixie opened the door and took the steps two at a time. The lighting on the stairway was indeed poor. Trixie missed her footing on the last step and landed with a painful, noisy clatter. Picking herself up, she giggled as she pictured the librarian’s downward look of resignation.
    Trixie found the correct file and sifted carefully through its faded clippings. A headline citing Killifish Point jumped, out at her from a two-year-old article. Two paragraphs down, the name ”Lawrence Krull” snared her attention.
    ”Bunker’s partner!” she exclaimed and began reading:

Lawrence Krull was believed to be the only victim of the boating accident involving the Kruller. It is not known how Krull, a professional fisherman for over forty years, happened to lose control of his boat in yesterday’s storm. Kathleen, his ex-wife, stated that Krull hunted sunken treasure to supplement his fishing income. There is speculation that his boat was loaded down too heavily to be controlled in the storm.

    ”How fascinating,” Trixie murmured. She started to search through the folder for further information on the accident.
    ”What in the world are you doing?”
    This time, Trixie jumped so fast that she dropped the file. Clippings scattered all over the floor. She bent down to pick them up, complaining, ”Brian, must you wear sneakers? Are you trying to scare me? What did I do to deserve this?”
    Brian crouched to help her. ”You didn’t meet me out by the library door, like you were supposed to, that’s what. You’re the one who scared me—I thought they decided to put you in the card catalog under ’long-lost sisters.’ ”
    ”Very funny,” said Trixie.
    ”And when I asked the librarian,” Brian went on, ”she wanted to know if my sister was a talkative, curly-haired blond. I said, ’That’s Trixie,’ and she pointed down here.”
    ”She was talking just as much as I was!”
    ”Probably more quietly, though,” said Brian. ”Anyway, let’s get out of here. We re going to be late for dinner.”
    ”You’ve been ravenous ever since you got home from the hospital,” Trixie observed as they walked out to Brian’s jalopy. ”Worse than Mart.”
    Brian chuckled as he held the door open for Trixie. ”I cringe at the thought of Mart’s appetite if he were in the same position as me, just recovered from cyanide poisoning!”
    ”You are all recovered, aren’t you?” Trixie asked anxiously.
    ”You bet,” said Brian cheerfully. ”I was just in to see Dr. Ferris this afternoon, and he says I’m as good as new—whatever that