The Indian Burial Ground Mystery (8 page)

“Great thinking, Honey,” Trixie put in with a laugh. “Bring two while
you’re at it—they’re small.”

“I’d better go with you,” Dan said. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost in
the woods.”

“I would
never
get lost in the woods, old man,” Mart was
saying as they left the clearing. “But I’m glad you came along. I need someone
to carry the shovels for me.”

The girls heard Dan burst out laughing. “That’s why I brought
you,
Mart,” he joked.

Reddy bounded through the bushes after the two boys.

“There goes our digging machine,” said Trixie. “Let’s just sit down and
wait for the shovels.”

Honey laughed and tossed her hair. “You’re right,” she said. “There’s no
sense breaking a fingernail over something as minor as a treasure.”

“Fingernail?” Di said glumly. “We’d more likely break an ankle trying to
see our way in the dark. Sitting down is not only restful, it’s smart, if you
ask me.”

The three girls sat down to wait.

Trixie, Honey, and Di
sat
huddled together on the fallen log, and listened. The sounds made by Mart and
Dan stomping through the woods grew faint. Soon all was silent, and Trixie felt
a shiver of apprehension between her shoulder blades.

“It sure is dark in these woods,” Honey said miserably.

“It’s not so dark,” Trixie answered, trying to sound cheerful. Then she
looked around. The sun was sinking rapidly. “Well, maybe it’s a little dark,”
she added.

“I don’t like being in the woods in the dark,” Di said. “I should have
stayed home.”

“What makes you say a thing like that?” Trixie asked loudly. She hoped
the sound of her own words would make everyone feel better—herself included.
“This is going to be exciting. The boys will be back any minute now, and then
we’ll have a real treasure hunt!” But Trixie’s voice had a false ring. The
cheerful tones sounded hollow.

After a few moments, as if on cue, the three friends moved closer
together on the log. Soon their shoulders were touching.

“D-do you think there are g-ghosts in these woods?” Di stammered.

“Don’t be silly,” Honey snapped. “There’s no such thing as a ghost.”

Di wasn’t convinced. “How can you be so sure?”

“Honey’s right,” Trixie said meekly. “There aren’t any ghosts.”

“Then why are you looking all around like that?” Di asked Trixie.

Trixie didn’t have an answer to Di’s question. None of the girls could
think of anything else to say. Di started to whistle. Honey began to hum. The
bugs droned on, and the cicadas seemed louder than usual. Suddenly the girls
became aware of another noise, which was rapidly getting louder than the
insects.

Trixie snapped her head around just in time to see a weird, glowing
apparition float through the trees and swoop to the edge of the clearing.
Before she could open her mouth, the horrible thing began to wail. Its voice
was a high-pitched, eerie quaver.

The three girls grabbed each other as the skeletal figure, draped in
moldy-looking rags and tendrils of cobwebs and tree roots, came closer and
closer. Its head looked like an old skull, with long gray hair that fell down
over empty eye sockets. An iridescent yellow glow emanated from its body as it
menacingly waved a big gnarled stick in their direction.

“A ghost!” Di shrieked. Her voice was a thin wail, almost as
high-pitched as the horrible noise coming from the ugly creature.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the glowing thing floated off
into the trees. Trixie dropped her flashlight. It landed on the log with a loud
thump. She groped blindly until she finally found the reassuring cylindrical
object. Grasping it hard, she started to stand up. Honey and Di rose at the
same time.

With a speed born of fear, the three girls launched themselves off the
log and down the path that led out of the clearing, far away from the awful
monster. They raced toward the clubhouse.

“I told you,” Trixie gasped as they crossed
Glen Road
. “The ghosts of those dead
Indians are angry at us! We’ve been tramping all over their sacred burial
ground.”

At last the girls reached the clubhouse. Di moaned softly as they
slumped against the side of the building. “I’m sorry I ever got mixed up in
this.”

“It
couldn’t
have been a ghost,” Honey said, panting
heavily. “I don’t believe in them, and neither should you. There has to be
another explanation, there just has to.”

Trixie’s breathing was returning to normal, and with it, her ability to
think clearly. “I wonder...” she began. “Remember the headless horseman, Honey?”

“Do I ever,” Honey replied.

“That time, someone dressed up as a ghostly horseman to scare us away
from a mystery. I’ll bet that silly ghost was doing the same thing. But who was
it?”

“I don’t c-care,” Di said, her voice quavering. “I’m scared. What happened
to Mart and Dan, anyway? Why aren’t they here?”

Lost in trying to figure out who the ghost could have been, Trixie had
forgotten all about the boys. But now, shaking herself out of her musing, she
became aware of a commotion coming from the direction of the Manor House.

“I wonder what’s happening at the Manor House?” Trixie asked. Without
waiting for an answer, she started running up the driveway. Honey and Di
followed right behind her. As they rounded the bend, they saw lights blazing.
The big front door was wide open, spilling light onto the veranda and the
circular drive. People were moving about inside, and the girls could hear the
faint whine of a police siren heading their way.

“What the...” Trixie began. But before she could voice the question, Mart
came bounding down the steps to meet them.

“You girls missed everything,” he said. “Out in the woods chasing phony
treasure, while we were here with the real action!”

“What happened?” Honey asked, her voice heavy with dread. She started
for the house. “I’d better see if Miss Trask is all right.”

The three young people quickly followed Honey into the house. There was
Miss Trask, standing in the middle of a pile of silver and haphazardly
scattered paintings.

“Honey,” she said with a weak smile. “Thank heavens you’re here!”

“What happened?” Honey asked softly as her eyes took in the mess in the
foyer. “Why is all this stuff here on the floor?”

“Someone tried to rob the house,” Miss Trask said, sounding shaken. “I
was upstairs in my room, reading, and the house was dark. I guess they thought
no one was home. I heard footsteps downstairs and I thought it was you, so I
opened my door and called you—-just to let you know I was awake.

“Suddenly there was all this thumping, then the sound of a car starting.
I started to go downstairs, because I thought that you might be in some kind of
trouble. But when I flipped on the light switch, there was no one here, just
this pile of things. I started to scream and then I heard the sound of
crunching metal, as if a car had hit something.”

“I know,” said Regan. He was wearing his pajamas, and had just come out
of the dining room. “That’s when I woke up. I heard the crash and I heard Miss
Trask screaming, so I ran up to the house. It looks as if she interrupted the
burglars. They left before loading up all these valuables.”

“That’s when we came in,” Dan said, looking around grimly. “We were just
coming out of the woods when a car shot out of the driveway.”

“It was probably the getaway car,” Mart said helpfully.

“I do hope nothing’s missing,” said Miss Trask. Her voice sounded
worried and frightened as she gestured to the glittering array in the hall.
“But I just can’t go through it all now. There’s so much.”

“Here come the police,” Bill Regan said. “That sure was quick!”

The sirens came screaming up the driveway, then the noise was abruptly
cut off. The sound of car doors slamming was followed by heavy footsteps as
Sergeant
Molinson
and two other policemen came striding
into the house.

“It looks like you stopped them before too much was taken,” Sergeant
Molinson
said, looking around. “Have you touched anything?”

“No, sergeant,” Regan answered quietly. “This is exactly the way we
found it.”

Miss Trask had been looking suspiciously at the pile, when suddenly a
smile of relief crossed her face. “Well, at least the Renoir wasn’t in the
group of paintings they planned to take,” she said. “Maybe they didn’t see it.
It is rather small, you know.”

“And who was in the house at the time?” asked the sergeant, glancing
briefly at the crowd of young people in the room.

“Only me,” said Miss Trask. “Regan and the boys heard me screaming, and
they came first. Then Trixie, Honey, and Di arrived after we’d called you. Mart
and Dan may have seen the car, however.”

Sergeant
Molinson
shifted his attention to the
two boys. “Is what Miss Trask says correct? Did you see the car?”

“Well, yes and no,” Mart said sheepishly. “We saw a car come out of the
driveway at top speed, but we couldn’t see what kind of car it was. It was too
dark.”

“They were driving without headlights, sir,” Dan said.

Sergeant
Molinson
grunted. Then he turned to
his men. “I’ll bet it’s the same bunch. Take a look around, will you?”

The two policemen left the room, one heading into the living room, and
the other out the front door.

“The men will see if they can find any clues around the house,” he said
glumly. “We’ll dust for fingerprints, of course. But if it’s the same burglars,
they won’t leave any prints. Now, Miss Trask, would you step into the living
room with me? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Miss Trask led the way. When the sergeant got to the large double doors,
he turned back to the little group in the foyer. “Please don’t leave yet,” he
told them. “I’d like to talk with you when I’m through.”

Honey sank down on a damask chair and began to rub her forehead. “I
can’t believe it,” she said weakly. “I’d better call my parents. They have to
know about this.”

Di sat down on the arm of the chair and rubbed the back of Honey’s neck.
Trixie was lost in thought again. Gripping her flashlight, she turned and
walked out the front door.

“Hey, Trixie,” Mart called after her, “Sergeant
Molinson
said—”

“I know what he said, and I’m coming right back,” Trixie said hastily. “There’s
something I have to check first. It might be a clue.” Trixie quickly walked
down the broad front steps of the Manor House, and stood uncertainly in the
driveway. Turning on the flashlight, she scanned the loose gravel. The broad
beam of light swung slowly back and forth as she walked around the circular
drive. At last, on the east side of the great curve, she found what she was
looking for—deep skid marks in the gravel.

Thoughtfully, she stared at the marks, determining their direction. Then
Trixie continued along the circular drive until she came to the point where it
joined the tree-lined road leading off the estate. There at the corner of the
well-manicured lawn stood a big oak tree. Trixie walked over to it and shone
her flashlight beam on the lower part of its trunk.

What she saw confirmed her suspicions. Hunks of bark had been gouged out
of the tree.
This must have been what the car hit,
Trixie
reasoned.
Miss Trask said she’d heard the sound of crunching metal after
the car had started. If the burglars were driving fast without headlights, they
probably missed the turn right here.
Bending close, Trixie carefully
scanned the damaged tree and found flakes of yellow paint stuck to the trunk.

“Just as I thought,” she muttered.

Straightening up quickly, Trixie ran back to the house and went inside.
Mart and Dan were with Sergeant
Molinson
, and Honey
was on the phone, speaking tearfully with her father. Miss Trask stood next to
her, an arm resting affectionately on the girl’s shoulders.

Not wanting to interrupt, Trixie went over to Di, who was looking
nervously at the pile of almost-stolen goods.

“Why is Honey crying?” Trixie asked softly.

“It’s the Renoir,” Di whispered back. “When Miss Trask was in the living
room with Sergeant
Molinson
, she saw that it wasn’t
hanging on the wall. Since it isn’t in the pile, either, it must be gone.”

“Oh, no,” Trixie said. “What are they going to do?”

“Try to catch the burglars, I guess,” Di answered sadly. “But if the
newspaper stories are true, that won’t be easy. Sergeant
Molinson
thinks it’s the same bunch, and they haven’t been able to catch them so far.”

The double doors to the living room swung open, and a subdued Dan and
Mart came out into the foyer.

“Sorry we couldn’t be of more help,” Dan said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sergeant
Molinson
said
gruffly. “I think that’s all for now. You kids better get home.”

“What about us?” Trixie asked. “Don’t you need to question us, too? I
think I might have a clue.”

“I doubt it, since you weren’t here when all this happened,” Sergeant
Molinson
answered abruptly. He turned to Dan and Mart.
“Would you see that the young ladies get home safely? We have a lot more work
ahead of us, and it’s past their bedtime.”

“Past my bedtime!” Trixie burst out angrily. But at a warning glance
from Dan, she quieted down, a look of grim determination on her face.

If the sergeant isn’t interested in what I have to say,
she thought,
then I can’t force him to listen.

“It would be better for all concerned if you kids didn’t get involved,”
the sergeant said with a pointed stare at Trixie. He never liked it when Trixie
tried to get involved in a case. “Now I want you all to head on home.”

Everyone said their good-byes. Dan and Mart accompanied Di and Trixie
down the driveway. When they reached
Glen
Road
, they separated. Dan walked Di home since it
was on his way. The
Beldens
walked up the road to
Crabapple Farm in silence. It had been an exciting day, and Trixie was too
tired to talk. Besides, she needed to think.