The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

I do,” Honey answered. “But it isn’t driving me batty.”
    Mrs. Belden was waiting for them outside the hospital in the Belden
station wagon. Bobby was firmly belted into the backseat and complaining
loudly.
    “I wanna sit way in the back,” Bobby whined peevishly, “where you put the packages. It’s
more fun! Nobody would arrest a six-year-old for not wearing a seat belt. I
think it’s dumb. So there!”
    “It’s not dumb, Bobby,” Honey said sweetly. “Look, I’m wearing my seat
belt, and so is Trixie, and so is your mom. Smart people always wear their seat
belts, and you’re one of the smartest little people I know.”
    Bobby threw a grateful smile at Honey. Then, mollified, he settled down.
The car drove swiftly along Glen
Road . Mrs. Belden dropped Honey at the foot of the
driveway to the Manor House, and then pulled into Crab-apple Farm. The moment
the car stopped, Trixie bolted out the door and ran into the house.
    “There are sandwiches on the kitchen table,” Mrs. Belden called after
her. By the time she had gotten Bobby and the groceries out of the car, Trixie
had changed into shorts and a halter top, and was racing down the porch steps
with a tomato-and-cheese sandwich in each hand.
    “See you later, Moms,” she called merrily as she jumped on her bike.
    Trixie rode across the yard, and down the wooded path that led to the
Manor House. Honey was there, waiting on the veranda steps with her bike and
her sandwich. They quickly made their way along a dirt road to the part of the
preserve where the dig site was located. A truck rumbled past them, kicking up
clouds of dust.
    “I bet it’s a delivery,” Trixie said. “Let’s hurry.”
    Hot and out of breath, Honey and Trixie finally came to the clearing. It
was a hive of busy activity. They could see tents being set up around the edge
of the small meadow. Young people dressed in colorful shirts and shorts were
carrying boxes, chairs, and stacks of books. Professor Conroy was moving tables
and opening cartons.
    “Brian,” Trixie called out, catching sight of her brother. “Did we miss
anything?”
    Brian turned. Charles Miller was standing with him. They both had
relaxed, happy expressions on their faces. Trixie wondered briefly why Charles
appeared so nice when talking to her brother, and so prickly when talking to
her.
    Brian ambled over. “Don’t worry, Trix ,” he
said. “Professor Conroy is giving the opening lecture in about fifteen minutes.
All you missed was the hard part.”
    “Good,” the girls said, relieved.
    “Hey,” Trixie said to Brian, “what did you think of Charles Miller? He’s
a little odd, isn’t he?”
    “Not at all,” Brian replied. “Charles is extremely smart, and a real
archaeologist. You wouldn’t believe how much that guy knows about this area.
When he heard I worked as a guard at the Historical Society, he immediately
asked to see the archives. Charles says there’s a wealth of original source
material there—diaries, letters, all kinds of stuff. I’m going to take him down
there as soon as he has some free time.”
    “That’s very nice of you,” Honey said, “but where is Professor Conroy
going to give the opening lecture?”
    “ Oooh , that’s right,” Trixie said, her eyes
sparkling with interest. “We should try and get front-row seats!”
    “There are no front-row seats, silly,” Brian said with a chuckle. “We’ll
probably all just sit around under a tree.”
    Suddenly the three young people heard a sharp noise. Turning, they saw
Professor Conroy blowing comically on a little silver whistle. He was holding a
sheaf of notebook paper in one hand.
    With a wave he indicated that everyone should join him under a group of
shade trees at the edge of the clearing. Mart emerged from behind a stack of
boxes and dashed across the clearing to join Trixie, Honey, and Brian. They
quickly joined the group of ruddy-faced students. Trixie listened with rapt
attention as Professor Conroy started to speak.
    “Most people think an archaeologist spends all his time in remote
regions of the world surrounded by missing links, dangling skeletons, and
ancient, mysterious civilizations. Well, an archaeological site usually isn’t
as glamorous as people expect, but it can still fill one with awe. Here is
where people actually lived their lives hundreds, or even thousands, of years
ago.
    “Archaeology is really the science of garbage—that’s right, garbage. By
going through the abandoned