The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

rubbish heaps of ancient civilizations, we can
learn a great deal about them. We can find out how our predecessors lived,
played, and worked.”
    Trixie looked around her. Suddenly the preserve that she knew so well
came alive. She could almost see the Indians who once lived there.
    The professor continued. “The Algonquin and Iroquois tribes moved around
in the Hudson Valley for hundreds of years. We are
presently standing on what I believe is an Algonquin burial ground. Burial
grounds are important because, in most tribes, a person’s ritual objects were
buried with him upon his death. Most of these things, such as baskets and
deerskin clothing, have disintegrated over the years. But other things hold up
better. These include knives, bowls, and pipes. Most of them were made of
durable materials, such as bone, stone, or fired clay.
    “It is these objects we are most interested in. Each tribe had specific
ways of decorating their belongings. By comparing the decorative markings, we
can try to determine the tribe’s movements. On this dig, we’re concerned with
the tribes that moved along the eastern seaboard.
    “Tobacco was grown and traded extensively in this region of the country.
Much religious significance was placed on tobacco and its use, so the
decorative markings on pipe heads were more formal and symbolic.”
    As Professor Conroy continued to talk about Indian rituals, Trixie
listened, fascinated. When he was finished and began assigning tasks to each
student, Trixie could barely contain her enthusiasm.
    “ Gleeps ,” Trixie sighed. “This is even more
exciting than I thought it would be.”
    “Now, don’t get too excited,” Brian said reasonably, trying to calm
Trixie down. “I doubt that they’re going to let the high-school volunteers do
the important work. After all, this dig is supposed to be for the graduate
students. We’ll probably be assigned to only the boring stuff.”
    “Nothing about archaeology could be boring,” Trixie said in a rush.
“Why, it’s just like detective work. Sometimes the smallest, most insignificant
clue is the one that solves the whole mystery! I almost think I’d rather be an
archaeologist. What could be more exciting than uncovering the mysteries of the
ancient past?”
    “Well, you’ll meet a better class of people,” Mart put in. They were
standing in front of a folding table, waiting to be assigned jobs. “No crooks,
robbers, or madmen here. After an exciting life like yours, do you think you
could stand the boredom?”
    “Oh, Mart,” Trixie said. “You know what I mean.” She turned her
attention back to Professor Conroy. He had been assigning most of his students
to sections on a large map that lay on the table. The map showed the meadow
where they were standing divided into numbered squares. A big, hand-printed
label in bright-red ink said, BURIAL GROUND. To the east of the meadow was another, smaller area
which was labeled, VILLAGE. While the professor assigned sections, a group of students were driving
pegs into the ground and tying lengths of string between them, marking off
squares just like the ones on the map.
    The five Bob-Whites stood in line waiting to get their assignments. Di
had finally located the group and was standing with them. She’d been delayed by
the twins, who refused to eat their lunch, but she’d managed to arrive only a
few minutes after Professor Conroy began his speech.
    “Wasn’t that exciting, Trixie?” Di whispered. “Oh, I hope I find
something really terrific.”
    Trixie suddenly had a thought. She tapped the girl ahead of her on line
and said, “Excuse me, but why are there two different sections to the dig? The
map says ‘Burial Ground’ and ‘Village.’ ”
    The girl smiled in a friendly way, and gestured across the meadow toward
a path that went off to the east, into the forest.
    “Over there, in the woods, is the place where Professor Conroy thinks
the original Indian village was located,” she explained. “The meadow where
we’re standing was where the Indians buried their dead. He hopes to find most
of the important artifacts here.”
    “Yikes,” Trixie said, starting to hop from one foot to the other. “We’re
standing on graves!”
    “We are not,” Brian said calmly.
    “Oh yes we are,” she argued, her voice rising shrilly. “This whole
meadow is the Indian burial ground. What if the ghosts of these Indians get
angry and come back to haunt us?”
    “That’s what I love about