The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

tracks and called after her instead.
    “I wouldn’t bother him if I were you. You high-school kids aren’t
serving any purpose on this dig. We don’t need you here at all.” Honey hurried
to catch up with Trixie. Reaching out her hand, she touched Trixie’s shoulders
softly.
    “Slow down a minute and catch your breath,” Honey said. “You shouldn’t
go storming up to the professor. Try to calm down.” Trixie realized her friend
was right.
    “In fact,” Honey continued, “he may even assign us to someplace better.
Sometimes these things work out for the best, you know.” Trixie took a deep
breath. “I know that, Honey, but Charles made me so mad. He really shouldn’t
talk to us that way.”
    “No,” Honey agreed, “but for some reason he doesn’t want us working
there. Once Professor Conroy reassigns us, though, we’ll be with the other
students and we’ll make new friends. It’s the best thing that could have
happened.”
    “Maybe,” Trixie said slowly. “But I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d
rather work at the village site than, well, on the actual burial ground. What
about the ghosts?”
    “Trixie! You don’t believe in ghosts any more than I do.”
    Trixie clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, rats!” she said, stomping
her foot. “I left my pick and my sifter back at the village site. I’ll be right
back.”
    “But, Trixie...” Honey yelped.
    “I’ll meet you back at the meadow,” Trixie called over her shoulder.
Then she set off running through the woods.
    She was almost at the site, when she heard voices drifting through the
trees. Slowing to a crawl, Trixie walked as quietly as she could, trying to
catch a glimpse of who was talking— and trying to avoid being seen.
    It was Charles Miller, and he was talking to Harry again.
    “Make a date with that kid from the Historical Society,” Harry was
saying, his voice a low whine. “We gotta get that map, and we gotta get it in a
hurry.”
    “I don’t see why—” Charles began, but Harry cut him off.
    “Take it from me, kid,” Harry said, “we haven’t got much time. You wanna
fool around in the woods with a pail and shovel, be my guest, but—”
    It was at this moment that Trixie, trying to creep closer in order to
hear better, tripped over a gnarled tree root. With a cry of dismay, she
sprawled flat on her face right in front of the two men.
    “What the...” Harry snapped at the intrusion. “Who’s that?”
    “A troublemaker, that’s who,” Charles said as he looked down at the
disheveled girl. “Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”
    “I forgot my tools,” Trixie explained lamely. She could feel herself
blushing with embarrassment.
    “Well, hurry up and get them, and then get out of here,” Charles said,
scowling at her.
    Trixie scrambled to her feet and walked slowly across the tiny space
separating her and Charles. She had to climb over a fallen tree trunk to get to
the place where she’d left her tools. “Yes, sir. Your wish is my command.”
    I sound just like Mart , she thought as she quickly collected her things. Then, straightening
up, Trixie looked defiantly at Charles Miller.
    “If I were you,” she said with a smug grin, “I’d try being a little
nicer to people. Nobody likes a grouch!”
    “Why you...” Charles started.
    “Hey, do you think she was listening?” Harry snapped, his eyes narrowing
as he watched her.
    “I doubt it,” Charles answered. But he looked a little worried. “It
doesn’t matter, anyway. For one thing, she’s just a high-school kid.
    And for another, I’m going to see to it that she gets thrown off this
dig.”
    Squaring her shoulders and holding her head high, Trixie slowly marched
away from the two men.
    “We’ll see about that,” she muttered under her breath. “And wait until I
tell Brian and Mart what I just heard. You guys won’t get near the
Historical Society if I have anything to say about it.”
    Filled with determination, Trixie hurried through the woods to find
Honey—and Professor Conroy.



5 * Treasure Talk
     
    “ And then Charles said we
weren’t allowed to work there,” Trixie said to Professor Conroy, trying to
control her anger. “We were working just where you told us, too.” Professor
Conroy looked perplexed. Slowly turning a small trowel over and over in his
hands, he looked at the red-faced girl standing in front of him.
    “It really doesn’t matter where anyone digs,” he finally said. “I’ll
speak to Charles