The Indian Burial Ground Mystery (6 page)

I’ll just run over to the library,
Trixie
thought.
I’m sure the librarian will lend me some paper and a pencil.
It’ll only take me a minute.

Pushing the chair back with a loud scrape, Trixie threw open the door to
the archive room. She dashed up the dimly lit staircase that led to the main
floor.

Trixie managed
to get
to the front door without being seen by Jake Hanson. She knew that if Mr.
Hanson were to see her leaving, he’d lock the door, and she’d have to waste
time trying to get him to let her back inside. Since it was almost closing
time, he might not let her in at all. Then the map and the diary would have to
wait until tomorrow afternoon —and that might be too late.

Trixie dashed out of the building and broke into a run. After the
darkness of the archive room, her eyes needed to adjust to the sunlight. As
they did, she saw a yellow Volkswagen parked at the curb in front of the
building. Hearing the clatter of Trixie’s shoes on the pavement, the man in the
car looked up. It was Harry!

Trixie gasped. What was Harry doing at the Historical Society? She’d
thought that Charles was the one who was interested in the archives. Then she
remembered something— both men were interested in historical materials. That
was what their conversation in the woods was all about—a map! A treasure map,
in all likelihood.

The afternoon sun glancing into the car window made it hard for the man
inside to see her. He narrowed his eyes to a squint, then a shock of
recognition flickered across his face. With a sharp scowl, Harry started the
engine of the car, and swiftly drove around the corner and out of sight.

I wonder what his problem is,
Trixie
thought.
Why is he upset to see me? The map —maybe he knows I found the
map! Oh, brother. I’d better hurry and make a copy of that map. Then I’ll hide
the book somewhere on the shelves.

Trixie ran the fifty yards to the library and practically dragged Honey
from her chair.

“What are you doing?” Honey gasped, her voice a whispered protest.

“Quick,” Trixie panted, trying to get her breath, “do you have a pencil
and a piece of paper?”

“No,” Honey said. “What’s the matter? Why are you pulling on me so
hard?”

“You’ll see in a minute, but I haven’t got time to explain now. Please
try to borrow a pencil and paper from the librarian. I have to get back to the
archive room.”

Honey quickly did as Trixie asked, but she was confused. Trixie was
already at the door when Honey caught up with her.

Out on the sidewalk, Trixie started running, and Honey had to run to
keep up with her.

“This had better be good,” Honey gasped as the two girls went down the
stairs to the archive room.

“It is,” Trixie answered with a sly smile. “I just want it to be a
surprise.”

But what a surprise Trixie had waiting for her when she opened the door
to the room. The table was bare, and the little leather-bound book was gone.

“It was right here!” Trixie cried. “I left it here not five minutes
ago.”

“What
was right here, Trixie?” Honey asked in an
exasperated tone. “Now will you please tell me what’s going on?”

“The diary and the map,” Trixie moaned. “Wait! Maybe someone put it back
on the shelves.”

“What diary? What map?” Honey asked, watching Trixie race madly around
the room, running her fingers across the backs of all the books.

“Edward Palmer’s diary, of course,” Trixie answered, slightly
distracted. “And the map showing where he buried his treasure.”

“Run that by me one more time, Trixie Belden,” Honey said. “You found a
diary and a treasure map?”

“That’s exactly what I found,” Trixie said, turning to face her friend.
“Hey, wait a minute. That yellow pad wasn’t on the chair when I was here
before. Someone must have come down while I was at the library.”

Suddenly there was a loud banging in the room. Trixie and Honey both
jumped, startled by the unexpected noise.

“It’s only the window,” Trixie whispered with a sigh of relief. “The
wind must have rattled it.”

Sure enough, a small window located high up on the wall was swinging
loose from its top hinges. The window lock was knocking against the metal mount
that secured it when it was closed.

“That window wasn’t open before,” Trixie said suspiciously.

Suddenly Trixie noticed that one of the chairs had been pulled over to
the window. She quickly stepped up on the seat. Gripping the bottom of the
window jamb with both hands, she was able to pull herself up for a better look
outside.

“Look!” she gasped. “Someone’s running across the lawn.” Honey quickly
joined her on the chair.

Sure enough, a dark-haired man was running across the back lawn, heading
for the thick underbrush that surrounded the old building. Trixie could see
that he was carrying something small, rectangular, and brown in his hand.

“Hey, you!” Trixie yelled. “Come back with that!”

But the man didn’t stop or turn around.

“That’s it!” she screeched. “I bet that was Charles! He stole the diary.
Harry was parked outside when I came out. He probably told

Charles I was gone for good so he could continue working with the book.
When Charles heard us coming, the only escape was out the window. That’s why
the chair was pulled over.”

“Let’s follow him,” Honey said quickly. The two girls raced up the
stairs, out the door, and around to the back of the building. But the man had
disappeared.

“I’m sure it was Charles Miller,” Trixie said, more calmly this time.
“That diary was exactly what he was after. He probably found the map when he
was in the archive room this morning with Brian. But he couldn’t steal it under
Brian’s nose, so he had to come back for it.”

“Let’s double-check,” Honey said reasonably. “It’s possible that the
diary or the map is still there. Maybe that wasn’t what he was carrying at
all.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Trixie said.

They went back into the building, passing Jake Hanson on the way. He
smiled happily at them and nodded.

“Just let me know when you’re through,” he called after them. “It’s
almost closing time, but enjoy your history!”

Back in the room, faced with the rows and rows of books, Trixie realized
the task might be impossible. She worried that Jake Hanson had perhaps put the
book away, and that she’d lose time looking for it. Then, seeing the yellow pad
on the chair, Trixie had an idea.
I wonder...
she thought.

Using her pencil, she began to rub the side of the lead lightly across
the pad. As she covered the entire page with graphite, delicate white lines
began to appear. It was a handmade copy of the map!

“Look at this, Honey,” Trixie said. “This is the map! Whoever was down
here made a copy of it, just the way I was going to. I bet when he heard us
coming back, he grabbed his copy of the map along with the book, so we wouldn’t
be able to make a copy of our own.”

“That’s it?” Honey said, looking at the faint outlines Trixie had
revealed with her pencil rubbing.

“That’s it!” Trixie replied proudly. “Charles didn’t know I could make a
rubbing of the impression a pencil makes through a sheet of paper. An old
detective trick!”

“What’s that word?” Honey asked as she studied the pale rubbing. “The X
and the roads are clear, but those roads could be anywhere.”

Trixie thought hard for a moment, trying to remember.

“I’ve got it. The map had only one word on it—
Depew
.
Now all we have to do is find out if that’s the name of someplace around here.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name,” Honey pondered. “The map may
not be of this area.”

“No,” Trixie countered. “I think the map is of someplace nearby. That’s
why Charles and Harry are interested in it.”

“Maybe we should go back to the library. The librarian might be able to
help us.”

“Good idea,” Trixie said. “We’d better close and lock the window,
though. It looks like it might rain.”

The girls locked the little window, and moved the chair back to the
table where it belonged.

“I’m going to take this pad,” Trixie said as they closed the door behind
them. “I need proof that I made a rubbing of the map.”

“Right. And we could also use it to make notes on,” Honey suggested.

Trixie and Honey slowly climbed the stairs. Jake Hanson was sitting at
his desk near the entrance.

“Well, girls,” he said, “did you find anything interesting?”

“Yes, sir,” Trixie answered. “We certainly did. But we’re finished now,
so you can lock the door.”

Mr. Hanson pulled himself slowly out of the chair and crossed the foyer.

“
Yessiree
,” he said with a laugh. “It sure is
nice to see such enthusiastic young people.
Lotta
young people are getting interested in those archives, and it’s a good thing. I
always have held with learning from the mistakes of history,
hehheh
. Most people wait until they’re too old to read
history. By then, they’ve already made all their mistakes.”

“Thanks very much, Mr. Hanson,” Honey called after him.

“No problem, young lady,” he replied from the stairs. “Just drop by
anytime, anytime.” Trixie and Honey walked back to the library. It was cool and
quiet inside, and they were grateful for the water fountain. Trixie felt hot,
and she let the cool stream of water run over her wrists for a while. Honey
looked as neat and comfortable as always. When they felt a little more settled,
they went over to the information desk.

“I don’t know,” mused Mrs. Field, the librarian. “
Depew
...
that name doesn’t ring a bell. But I have a few books here that might help you.
They’re in the reserve collection, so I’m afraid you can’t take them out of the
library.”

“That’s all right, Mrs. Field,” Trixie replied. “We’ll work at one of
the tables.”

“You girls just wait here,” the pleasant older woman said. “I’ll be
right back.”

Trixie and Honey sank down onto the comfortable old wooden chairs, and
stuck their feet out under the table.

Soon Mrs. Field returned with a stack of old volumes.

“Now, I don’t know which of these will be most helpful,” she said,
putting them down on the table. “I’d try
History of the Province of New
York
first. It was written by William Smith in 1757, and it might have
a listing of the old families. There is also
Letters from an American
Farmer
by St. John de Crevecoeur. Oh, and this book on architecture
might be helpful, because it describes various great houses of the
Pre-Revolutionary period. Perhaps the family you’re thinking of is mentioned
there.”

“Oh, thank you,” Trixie said. She tried to smile cheerfully, but the
sight of all those fat books with their tiny print made her feel gloomy.

“You’re welcome, Trixie,” the woman said. “And if you need anything
else, just ask. I’ll be at my desk.”

“
Gleeps
,” Trixie sighed after Mrs. Field was
out of earshot. “Look at these books! It’s going to take us all week to find
anything.”

“No, it won’t,” Honey said, opening one quickly. “We’ll check the
indexes first. If we don’t find the name listed, we can just skim the pages.
That’s easy enough.”

“Easy for you, maybe,” Trixie muttered. “You’re good at that sort of
thing.”

“Stop grousing and read,” Honey replied with a laugh. “We’ll have our
answer in no time.”

But two hours later, at closing time, the girls hadn’t found anything
about a family called
Depew
. In fact, there
was no mention at all of the name. They were very discouraged. “Now what?”
Trixie muttered after they’d handed the books back to Mrs. Field and thanked
her.

“Now we go home,” Honey said. “We need a rest.”

“I don’t feel like resting,” Trixie replied sadly. “Why don’t we take
the horses out? It doesn’t look like it will rain anymore.”

“That’s a great idea,” Honey answered. “Regan has been after me to
exercise the horses. I haven’t had a minute since we started working on the
dig, though.”

“Maybe we can think while we ride,” Trixie said as she got on her bike.

The Wheelers had a stable and several horses which the Bob-Whites were
encouraged to exercise. Mrs. Wheeler’s horse, Lady, was Trixie’s favorite. She
was a dappled gray mare who had an unusual habit of “blowing herself up” when
being saddled. Usually the cinch had to be retightened after riding some
distance because the saddle would start to slip. Susie was a beautiful black
mare that Trixie and Honey had purchased for Miss Trask with the reward money
they’d earned after solving a mystery. Although Honey had her own horse, she
often rode Susie because she was so gentle.

Regan was delighted to see the girls, and he quickly saddled Susie and
Lady.

“Now don’t get them overheated,” he warned as they rode out of the
stable. “And make sure you bring them back soon, and groom them, and put away
the tack. And be careful.”

“We will,” Honey called as she and Trixie trotted off down the driveway.
Bill Regan took his job seriously. He had been known to get upset with them if
they did anything careless or unsafe while riding.