The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

able to hear better.
    “I don’t give a hoot what your piece of paper says,” Charles was
snarling at the man. “I have a copy of our order here, and it says, ‘Five dozen
cartons of three-by-five cards, ten boxes of large manila envelopes, two
cartons of self-adhesive labels, and a gross of flat, corrugated cartons.’ I won’t
accept this delivery, and that’s final!”
    “Look, buddy,” the man replied sullenly, “all this slip says is to
deliver a hundred cases of printed envelopes to Professor Conroy at the Wheeler
game preserve, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Take it or leave it.”
    “I’m leaving it,” Charles snapped. “I refuse to sign for this delivery,
and furthermore, I’m going right down to the U.P.S. office and clear up this
whole mess with your supervisor.” With that, Charles stalked off the dig site.
The delivery man got back into his truck, and drove off in a cloud of dust.
Charles jumped into Professor Conroy’s jeep and followed right behind him.
    “That takes care of Charles Miller for the afternoon,” Trixie said with
a satisfied smile. “Let’s go back to the village site and see if we can find
out any more about who was digging that hole and why. We were interrupted last
night, but I doubt if we’ll be interrupted this afternoon.”
    The two girls rushed down the little path through the woods. Halfway to
the clearing, Trixie stopped short.
    “Look!” she gasped, pointing her finger through the undergrowth.
    Harry’s yellow Volkswagen was parked in the woods, just off the path.
The left front fender was dented, and a large area had lost its paint.
    “See,” Trixie said, “that looks like a brand-new scratch, too. It isn’t
rusted.”
    “What do you mean, ‘see’?” Honey asked. “You know, sometimes you talk in
riddles, Trixie Belden.”
    Trixie was about to answer when she heard muffled barking coming from a
short distance away.
    “Reddy!” she shouted, and she broke into a run.
    There was no Reddy in the clearing. But oddly, the muffled barking was
now even louder.
    “Where is that silly dog,” Trixie muttered as she prowled
around the edge of the clearing. “I can hear him, but I haven’t the slightest
idea where he is.”
    Following the sound of his barks, Trixie went a short distance farther.
Suddenly her foot slipped. Before she could grab hold of anything, she found
herself shooting down a muddy incline at the base of a fat old tree stump.
    She hit bottom with a spine-jarring thud. Luckily, the camper’s
flashlight she had hooked to her belt didn’t break. The next thing she knew, a
delirious Reddy was jumping all over her. She hugged the dog gratefully and
took a look around. It was pitch black except for a jagged circle of light
above her head.
    She was in a cave!
    “Trixie!” Honey’s worried voice filtered through the blackness that
surrounded her.
    “Over here!” Trixie called out. But before she had a chance to yell, “Be
careful!” Honey came sliding down into the cave with her.
    Reddy was delighted to have so much company, but the girls were
miserable.
    “There has to be a way out of here,” Trixie moaned. Great clumps of dirt
landed on her head as she tried to scale the slippery side of the cave. She
lost her footing again and again. “Maybe if you give me a boost, I could reach
the edge.”
    But try as they might, they couldn’t get out.
    Trixie and Honey were stuck.
    “Maybe we should yell,” Honey suggested. “One of the students might hear
us and pull us out.”
    “Good thinking,” Trixie said. “Let’s yell together. One, two, three...”
    “Hel-l-l- lp ! Hel-l-l- lp !”
    Moments later, the girls were exhausted, and they gave up. It was
obvious that they were too far from the main dig site for their voices to
carry. The cave was damp and cold. It smelled of old mushrooms and rotting
vegetation. Trixie didn’t like it one bit. Finally, the two sat down and leaned
back against the wall.
    Trixie closed her eyes and sighed. It was getting late. Only a small
shaft of light came through the hole above them. When night came, it would be
darker than pitch. Trixie knew she couldn’t leave her flashlight on for
long—the batteries would give out. “Maybe we should try and rest,” she said to
Honey.
    But her rest didn’t last long. It was interrupted by a rustling sound
nearby.
    Trixie leapt to her feet. It was Reddy. His nose was buried in the
paper-bag lunch that Mrs. Belden had packed for them.
    “Of