Read Online The Indian Burial Ground Mystery by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online Page A

would
take a year to get this much dirt out using that little scratching tool
Professor Conroy gave us.”
    “No kidding,” Trixie said. “No sifting or anything! You can bet that
whoever dug this hole wasn’t looking for any Indian artifacts. He was looking
for something else!”
    “Unless, of course, he wasn’t an archaeologist,” Honey said with a wry
smile.
    “Oh, I think an archaeologist dug this hole,” Trixie muttered. “And
there’s only one archaeologist I can think of who would bother.”
    “Right. The archaeologist who thinks he found a treasure map in the
Historical Society archive room!”
    “He may have the treasure map,” Trixie said, grinning, “but by the looks
of this hole, I don’t think he found the treasure yet. Do you?”
    “Nope.”
    “This is probably the wrong place,” Trixie said with a laugh as she got
back on her horse. “Well, I hope he enjoys digging holes.” Honey laughed too.
“And it looks like he’s got an awful lot of digging ahead of him!” They rode
away from the village site. The day had cooled down, so they decided to keep
the horses out for a while longer before returning to the stables. They chose a
path through a blackberry thicket. Stopping briefly, they pulled some ripe
berries off the bushes and popped them into their mouths. Trixie decided they
should return in a few days and pick the rest before the birds got to them. She
knew her mother would use them to make her special blackberry jam.
    They rode on until they reached the edge of Mrs. Vanderpoel’s property, then they turned back. Going past the old orchard, Trixie pulled up
her horse. There in the orchard was Old Brom . A
chubby old man with a bush of white whiskers, he lived in a small cottage on
the land which had belonged to his family since the seventeenth century. Now
the land was part of the Wheeler game preserve. Very proud, and usually very
shy, Old Brom was a treasure trove of wonderful old
ghost stories which he liked to tell to the neighborhood children.
    “Let’s ask Brom if he knows the name ‘ Depew ,’ ” Trixie suggested. “After all, he knows so much
about this area.”
    The girls dismounted, looped the bridles around a fence post, and walked
over to Old Brom .
    “Nice day,” he mumbled into his long beard. “Care for an apple?”
    “No thanks, Brom ,” Trixie said. “We were
wondering about something, and thought maybe you could help us.”
    “ Dunno ,” Brom replied tersely. Then his eyes twinkled. “ Mebbe .”
    “Have you ever heard of the name ‘ Depew ’
in these parts?” Honey asked. “We think maybe it was an old family that died
out.”
    “ Depew ,” Brom said slowly. “Of course, I’ve heard of the Depews . Long time ago, though. All history
now.”
    “Really?” Trixie gasped. “Where was their property?”
    “Right here,” Brom said with a shy smile.
“Well, not here, exactly. Back down Glen
Road a ways. Right across from the Wheeler place.
Used to be a big old mansion, but it burned down in a mysterious fire long
about the time of the Revolution. Never did get built back up again.
    “Owned all the land around here, the Depews did. Some say the son went crazy after
the place burned down. I don’t know that for sure, of course, but he never did
come back. Disappeared. Land was later bought by the family that built your
place, Honey.” Trixie shot Honey a warning look.
    “That’s really interesting, Brom ,” Honey said
slowly. She realized that it was probably best not to mention why they wanted
to know about the Depews .
    “Glad to oblige,” Brom said. “As a matter of
fact, there’s a good ghost story about the Depews , but I’ll tell you the next time I see
you. Have to get over to see Mrs. Vanderpoel .
Promised her I’d bring her some apples. She’s going to bake a pie.”
    “And give it to you to eat, right?” Trixie asked merrily. “She makes the
best pies in the world.”
    “That she does,” Brom answered. “I’d