Adventures at Spiro Mounds
by Cindy Downes
Chapter 1 — Lake Tenkiller
“I wonder what living in Oklahoma will be like?” I
thought as I finished brushing my hair into braids. Tying
the ends with blue ribbons, I walked over to the enormous
chrome window in my new bedroom. I pressed the “Open”
button on the small keypad next to the window and
watched in amazement as shiny, chrome blinds hummed
softly and wound up into a roll at the top of the window,
displaying a glistening Lake Tenkiller in the morning sun
light. “At least there’s a lake to explore. Maybe living here
won’t be too terribly awful.”
My stomach grumbled, reminding me that it was time for breakfast, so I scooted out of
the bedroom, bounced down the curved, chrome staircase, and headed for the kitchen.
My name is Kinsey. I’m eight years old; and, already, I’ve lived in three states. I was
born in New York; but, after our parents died, my older brother, Ben, and I moved to
Connecticut to live with Aunt Lydia and Uncle Steven. We lived there five years, but
spent more time with babysitters than we did with our aunt and uncle. My aunt and
uncle’s jobs kept them traveling so much they finally decided we needed “parents” who
stayed home. So last week, we moved in with Uncle Wil.
Uncle Wil is a twenty-seven-year-old bachelor who builds computers for a living. He
works at home and lives with his cat, Puppy Dog, in a twenty-four room, high-tech
mansion that sits high on a hill facing Lake Tenkiller. From what I’ve seen so far, most of
the twenty-four rooms are filled with gadgets or at least remnants of gadgets that Uncle
Wil has invented.
Martha, the housekeeper, is one of his gadgets. Uncle Wil made her from his worn-out,
Hoover vacuum and a Proctor Silex toaster. Her left arm is a pancake turner
which she uses to make the best cheeseburgers in the whole world and her
right arm, which is a feather duster, enables her to keep Uncle Wil’s
enormous mansion spic and span from top to bottom. When she’s
working, she cooks, cleans, and orders groceries. When she’s not
working, Uncle Wil says she gets into all kinds of mischief.
As I entered the kitchen, I noticed Uncle Wil sitting at the round,
stainless-steel breakfast table drinking a can of Mountain Dew and
reading a newspaper. Boxes of cereal, dishes, silverware, and a
bunch of perfectly-ripe bananas sat in the center of the table.
Uncle Wil looked up, his aquamarine eyes twinkling, and said, “Good morning, Kinsey.
Help yourself to breakfast.”
“OK,” I said, delighted that he knew I was old enough to take care of myself! I went to
the refrigerator, opened the door to get the milk, and a Spongebob sock fell out and
landed on my foot.
“What’s my sock doing in the refrigerator?” I asked, picking it up by the toe and holding
it out as if it had cooties.
“Mmm. Sorry,” Uncle Wil said, continuing to read his newspaper. “Martha must be on
the blink again. I’ll take care of it after breakfast.”
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 1
I set the sock on the counter, poured myself an enormous bowl of Cocoa Krispies , and
drizzled on a bit of milk. I don’t like milk, but dry cereal is a bit scratchy going down the
throat. Before I could scoop up a spoonful, Ben yelled from the laundry room, “Uncle Wil,
come quick! Martha is ironing my Reeboks!”
“I’m coming,” Uncle Wil said, as he quickly scanned the business page, took a gulp of
pop, and then headed down the hall.
I giggled, crammed in a mouthful of cereal, and thought, “This must be one of Martha’s
mischief days!”
A few minutes later, Uncle Wil, Ben, and Martha strolled back into the kitchen. Martha
began frying bacon for breakfast while Uncle Wil continued to read his paper and sip his
Mountain Dew. Ben sat down, pulled a Palm Pilot out of his pocket, and tapped a couple
of keys.
“He’s probably reading his email from Brighton Academy,” I thought, shoveling another
delicious mouthful of cereal in my mouth. Because of all the traveling we do, Ben and I
attend an off-campus, private school located in Pennsylvania. We do our school work at
home, send in our assignments by email, and travel to the campus several times a year
for testing and activities.
I noticed Ben’s frown the same time Uncle Wil did.
“What’s with the frown?” Uncle Wil asked.
“School work,” Ben said. “I’m toast.”
“Why’s that?” Uncle Wil asked.
“I have to keep an A average to win a scholarship to Space Camp next summer; but, I
just found out that I have to do an Oklahoma history project. I’m from Connecticut. What
do I know about Oklahoma?”
“Don’t worry,” said Uncle Wil. “I can help. What do you want to know?”
Ben continued reading from his Palm Pilot, “Well, I have to research the history of
Oklahoma and then write a two-page report on the moundbuilders, the Trail of Tears, the
cattle drives, the land runs, …”
“Whoa! Wait up. I can’t sit here and tell you all that. But, not to worry. It just so
happens I invented a gadget that can do that for me. Come on up to my workshop.”
Being the nosy sister and not willing to be left out, I washed down the last mouthful of
my cereal with orange juice and tagged along.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 2
Chapter 2 — The Gadget
The gadget was small, the color of cranberries, and about the size of Ben’s Palm Pilot.
Uncle Wil pushed a button on the side and a fluorescent screen lit up.
“What is it?” Ben asked.
“It’s a 3-D History Viewer. You type in a location, scroll through a
time line to the time period you want to research, and hit ‘Enter’. The
screen displays people, places, and important events from that time period
and gives you an idea of what life was like.”
The screen suddenly began to flicker on and off.
“Drats. It’s still not acting right,” Uncle Wil said. “I thought I fixed it last
week, but apparently not.”
He turned the viewer off and handed it to Ben. “Here, see if you can get it to work. I
have to finish a virtual reality simulator for the Epcot Center this morning. If you can’t
get it working, I promise I’ll fix it after lunch.” Uncle Wil began shuffling through
computer components scattered on his workbench.
Realizing that we’d been excused, Ben and I headed back to the kitchen.
“What are we going to do today?” I asked.
“I have to work on my history assignment,” Ben answered, examining the buttons on
the Viewer.
“That’s boring!” I said. “I thought we were going to explore the lake or something.”
“Sorry, Kinsey,” he said. “I can’t do that this morning. I have to write at least one
report before I can go exploring with you. But don’t worry, with this History Viewer of
Uncle Wil’s, I should be done in no time.”
He sat down at the kitchen table, turned on the gadget, and grinned with satisfaction
when the screen lit up. I watched as he continued to investigate the gadget. For a brother,
he’s not bad looking. His chestnut eyes match his hair. At five feet, eleven, he’s tall for his
age; and because he doesn’t eat as much as I do, he’s a lot skinnier. A lot smarter, too.
Well, maybe I should say he studies harder. I’ve been told I’m smart, but my grades don’t
always show it. It’s not that I don’t want good grades, it’s just that I find so many things
to do besides study!
“All I have to do is figure out how to make it work,” Ben said, interrupting my
thoughts.
I was sure that if anybody could make it work, Ben could. He takes after Uncle Wil
that way. Even though Ben will only be twelve next month, he’s already in seventh grade.
I stood over his shoulder to get a closer look at the History Viewer. Above the keys, was a
horizontal window that currently displayed vertical lines and dates - a timeline of some
sort. The cursor was set to today’s date, August 20, 2005. Ben tapped a couple of times on
a diamond-shaped, left-arrow key and watched as the timeline scrolled backwards and
stopped on July 12, 2005.
“OK, so this is how you pick a date,” Ben said, “That’s easy. My teacher said the
moundbuilders lived between 850 AD and 1500 AD in Spiro, Oklahoma. I wonder what
date I should put in?”
“How about a date in the middle,” I suggested, grabbing a banana off the table. I peeled
down one side as I continued to watch Ben.
“Good idea.” Ben scrolled through the timeline until it pointed to 1300 AD. “There, that
should get me started. Now I’ll type in the location.”
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 3
He tapped out, ‘Spiro, Oklahoma,’ on the keys at the bottom of the gadget. Nothing
happened.
“Why isn’t it working?” I asked, peeling down the other side of the banana, trying hard
to avoid the stringy things.
“Hush, give me a minute,” he said tapping the ‘Enter’ key. Still nothing happened. He
pressed open the battery compartment, jostled a cable, turned the Viewer right-side up,
and stabbed at the ‘Enter’ key once more. This time, the Viewer made an encouraging
“bleep.” I saw the screen flash. Then a group of grass-covered mounds appeared in the
picture, surrounded by prairie and a scattering of elms. As the scene zoomed in, I felt the
floor begin to twirl; and, before I could say “quantum physics”, Uncle Wil’s kitchen
disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
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Chapter 3 — The Mounds
As I scrambled to my feet and rubbed my slightly-bruised shoulder, I looked down and
noticed red dirt had smeared my blue and white striped jeans. My partially peeled
banana lay in the dirt.
“Yuk!” I blurted. “My banana’s ruined.”
Ben scrambled over to me, “Are you all right, Kins?”
“Yeah, but I have to get another banana,” I said, kicking my banana. Then I looked up
and noticed the towering mounds directly in front of us.
“Wow, where are we, anyway?” I asked, staring straight ahead.
“I think we’re in Uncle Wil’s History Viewer,” Ben said, his chestnut eyes anchored on
the scene in front of us.
Right in the middle of the dusty, red dirt and wire-like grass was an enormous mound
which stretched several hundred feet long. Huge, gaping holes and heaps of dirt
hopscotched across the mounds. From somewhere on the other side, I could hear the faint
sounds of men yelling and shovels striking the ground.
Suddenly, a bleeping sound brought my attention back to Ben and the History Viewer. I
watched as Ben pushed a red, blinking button, marked ‘FAQ,’ on the Viewer. The screen
lit up and a message scrolled across the screen. Ben read,
‘The Moundbuilders lived from approximately 850 AD to 1450 AD. As they left no
written records behind, archaeologists depend on artifacts to provide clues to their society.’
“Kinsey, do you realize what this means?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, it means we’re going to be late for lunch,” I said, looking at my ruined banana.
Ben lowered his voice, “No, it means the History Viewer is really a Time Machine.
We’ve traveled back to time of the moundbuilders!”
I looked at the mounds and pointed to an area near the center, “Oh yeah?” I said. “Then
what’s with that wheelbarrow? I don’t think they had wheelbarrows in 1300 A.D.”
Ben’s thick eyebrows wrinkled as he glared at the rusty-green wheelbarrow. Then he
studied the Viewer.
“Nineteen thirty five!” he exclaimed. “Oh, no! I must have accidentally moved the
timeline when I was checking the battery. We’re in the right place, Kinsey, but we’re in
the wrong time. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“No way, I want to look around first,” I said skipping off towards the mounds.
“Kinsey, come back!” Ben yelled. I heard him running to catch up just as a man in
baggy pants appeared from behind the mounds and grabbed me by the arm.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 5
Chapter 4 — Baggy Pants
“Whoa, little girl. What’s your rush?” Baggy Pants said.
“I want to see what’s going on here,” I said, trying to struggle free. He was a nice
looking man, well-dressed even though he wore old-fashioned clothes. He had a pleasant
face and nice eyes and was carrying a navy, spiral-bound notebook. I couldn’t believe he
would hurt me.
“Who are you, anyway?” I asked, wondering what he was doing in a place like this.
“My name’s Sam Dellinger. I’m the Museum Director at the University of Arkansas.
Who are you?”
“Kins…”
Just then, Ben grabbed me by the other arm, interrupting our conversation, “Sorry Mr.
Dellinger. My sister and I were just leaving.”
Mr. Dellinger released me and asked Ben, “What’s your name?”
“Ben, Ben Ronniker and this is my sister, Kinsey,” he answered.
“Where are your parents?” Mr. Dellinger asked, his eyes narrowing.
“They’re meeting us here later,” I said, quickly crossing my fingers. Then I added,
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting for the McKenzie’s to bring out more artifacts,” he answered, jerking his
thumb towards the mounds.
“Artifacts? Are you digging up the mounds?” Ben asked.
“I wish I were,” he said, shaking his head slowly and pressing his lips tightly together.
“Unfortunately, the Pocola Mining company is doing the excavation and that’s making a
lot of people unhappy.”
“Why?” Ben asked.
“Because these people don’t care about the historical value of the artifacts, only the
dollar value.”
“Can I see the artifacts? Can I? Can I?” I asked, jumping up and down. I was sure that
I was missing something very important.
“You’ll have to get permission from John Hobbs or one of the McKenzies,” Mr. Dellinger
said. “But you’d better hurry. They’re selling the artifacts almost as fast as they find
them.”
“Where are the artifacts?” Ben asked.
“They’re in the tent round back,” he said, pointing to the largest mound. “But you can’t
just walk over and look at them. They’re being guarded by Caretaker Ted.”
Then he leaned down and whispered, “Just between you and me, Caretaker Ted is not
the friendliest person in the world. It’s been rumored that he’s selling artifacts on the sly.
I wouldn’t go near him if I were you. It could be dangerous.”
“Good advice. Let’s go, Kinsey.” Ben said, pulling my arm and glaring at me with his
piercing eyes. “We need to look for our parents. Good-bye Mr. Dellinger.”
“Good-bye,” Mr. Dellinger said as he turned and continued walking around
the mounds.
I watched Mr. Dellinger disappear out of sight, kicked the banana again,
and said, “Now what? I’m bored. And I’m hungry.”
“I have to find a way to reverse this time machine so we can get
home,” Ben said. “Maybe it has instructions.”
He pressed the ‘FAQ’ key a second time. The screen lit up and Ben read out loud:
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 6
‘Spiro Mounds is one of Oklahoma’s most important prehistoric American Indian sites.
Over a period of many years, twelve mounds were created, layer by layer, with dirt carried
in by the basketfuls.’
“I don’t want to know about the Mounds right now,” he snapped. “I want to know
how to get out of here.” He pressed FAQ again and read:
‘Craig Mound, also known as Spiro or The Great Temple Mound, is composed of a
thirty-three foot high, cone-shaped mound connected to three smaller mounds making the
entire structure four hundred feet long.’
Frustrated, he flipped the Viewer over.
“A ‘Reset’ button!” he exclaimed. “This might be the solution, Kinsey. Do you have
anything that will fit in this hole?”
I glanced around and spotting a small twig nearby. I picked it up and handed it to Ben.
“What about this?” I asked.
“No, that won’t work,” he said with a short huff. “We need something the size of a pin.”
For the next few minutes, we hiked down the front of the mounds looking for anything
small enough to fit in the hole. Reaching the bottom, we rounded the curve and started
up along the back side, weaving in and out of piles of dirt and deep holes. A brown,
paper-lunch sack fluttered by.
“What are we going to have for lunch?” I asked.
Ben ignored me. I was about to protest again when we rounded another large mound of
dirt and Ben slammed into a short, stubby-looking man. He was wearing a ripped, black,
felt hat, a patched shirt, and stained, tan coveralls. His face was splotchy as if he had a
rash and scowling eyes poked out from under tangled eyebrows.
“Excuse me, sir,” Ben apologized.
The man glared and then turned as if to hide something. “Just git on with ya,” he
growled.
Ben grabbed me and pulled me back the way we came.
“Do you think that was Caretaker Ted?” I asked, suspiciously.
“I don’t know,” Ben said, with a warning look in his eyes. “And I don’t want to find out.”
I looked back and watched as the man stuffed something under his shirt, turned, and
ran past a tunnel which had been dug into the side of the largest mound straight ahead.
Then he ran into an olive-green, canvas tent standing in a grove of trees to the right of
the tunnel.
“Ben, I think he just stole something,” I said.
“Hmmm,” Ben replied, continuing to pull me along. “Is that so?”
“It was probably an artifact. Let’s go!” I tore away from Ben and raced after the robber.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 7
Chapter 5 — Stolen Artifacts!
As I ran towards the tunnel, I heard muffled voices and tools clanking inside. I tiptoed
past and gingerly approached the tent. Ben passed and signaled me to follow him to the
back of the tent.
While Ben tried to eavesdrop through the tent walls, I climbed on a wooden box labeled
‘DYNAMITE’ and tried to peek through a post hole. I couldn’t see anything; so, following
Ben’s lead, I pressed my ear against the hot, canvas wall and listened. A radio inside
blared out an ad for flower seeds, something about sending in “only one Oxydol label and
10 cents.” Then someone shut off the radio and I could now hear two men talking.
During the next few minutes, I discovered that the thief, whose name was Yakov, and
Caretaker Ted were partners. They had been stealing artifacts, hiding them somewhere
in the tent, and then selling them when the Poloco Mining company owners weren’t
looking.
I heard Yakov say, “Some brats may have seen me take that last artifact.”
“You idiot!” Caretaker Ted yelled. “Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know,” Yakov said. “They headed down towards the lower part of the mounds.”
“Come on,” Caretaker Ted snarled “We’ve gotta stop them before they blab to someone.”
I peeked around the corner and watched as the two men exited the tent and stomped
off. I scrambled off the box and slipped around to the front of the tent.
Ben yelled after me, “Now where are you going?”
“I’m going to grab those stolen artifacts before the bad guys come back.” I yanked open
the tent flap and ducked in.
I paused in the entrance, rested my hand on a wobbly, weather-beaten chair, and
gasped as the foul smell of sweat and burnt food assaulted my nose. I scanned the inside
of the tent and noticed a rusty, camp stove to my left on the dirt floor. A black kettle
containing left-over, charred beans sat on the stove and briefly quenched my ever-growing
appetite. In the middle of the tent, I noticed a loaded grocery sack that had been
deposited on a metal table. Behind the table and against the back wall were two large
wooden boxes, stacked one on top the other. One box was labeled ‘Ear Spools’ and the
other was labeled “Shell Gorgets.’ Sitting silently on top of these two boxes was a
portable radio made of wood.
“I know those stolen artifacts have to be in here somewhere,” I said to Ben as he
slipped in the tent after me. I darted over to the table, grabbed the brown sack, and
dumped it. Out tumbled a loaf of bread, three cans of soup, two cans of Country Club
beans, and a large canister of coffee.
Choosing to ignore the food for now, I dashed over to the radio and moved
it to the floor. Then, I snatched the lid off the top box and looked inside.
Dozens of circular objects, which looked like Krispy Kreme donuts made of
sandstone, were crowded in the box. I heaved the box aside and opened
the bottom box. It contained hundreds of what looked like carved oyster
shells.
“I doubt they would hide stolen artifacts in labeled boxes or a grocery bag,” Ben said
sarcastically.
Disappointed, I acknowledged, “You’re probably right. Where do you suppose they hid
them?”
I sat down on the dirt floor and slumped back against the box of shells, causing it to
inch backwards and scrape the dirt underneath.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 8
“What’s that?” Ben asked, pointing to a partially-exposed wooden plank.
I leaped up and began scraping away the dirt with my bare hands. Suddenly, I heard a
voice outside. “You keep looking and don’t stop til you’ve found them,” the snarling voice
threatened. “I’ll guard the artifacts.”
Ben and I froze as a huge, hairy hand reached through the tent opening.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 9
Chapter 6 — Trapped!
Further away, a voice I didn’t recognize called, “Hey, Ted, get over here, quick. I need
you to haul some copper plates out of the King’s Chamber.”
“Be right there, Mr. Hobbs,” Ted answered, his hand retreating from the tent. I held my
breath as his footsteps headed back towards the tunnel.
“Whew!” Ben breathed. “That was close.”
Shaking myself into action, I continued to scrape at the dirt. Finally, the plank was
exposed enough that Ben and I could lift it up, uncovering a three-foot hole. I reached
inside and pulled out a strange-looking arrowhead and an unusual axe.
“The stolen artifacts!” I beamed, holding them up as if they were Olympic medals.
“You must be right,” Ben agreed, “or those two wouldn’t have taken the trouble to hide them.”
The axe was about two feet long. Its wooden handle was carved in the shape of a bird’s
head and inlaid with an eye made of shell. A copper blade protruding through the open
mouth of the bird, creating a menacing-looking weapon. The other object looked like an
arrowhead, but it was unlike any I had ever seen.
“See if the Viewer has anything to say about these,” I said.
Ben pressed the ‘FAQ’ Key on the Viewer and read:
‘Over one third of the mound was destroyed during a two-year lease between the Pocola
Mining company and George Evans, the guardian of the two, minor Craig children who
owned the land.
He pressed the ‘FAQ’ key again and read:
‘In the summer of 1935, the Pocola Mining Company tunneled into the King’s
Chamber and removed thousands of artifacts including engraved shell
gorgets, cloth, “hourglass” beads, pottery, baskets, ear spools, rare Tribute
point arrowheads, and Hafted Bird Effigy Copper Axes.
“Do you think this is a Tribute point arrowhead?” I asked, pointing to the odd-looking
arrowhead in my hand.
“I bet so,” Ben said, “and that axe is probably the Hafted Bird Axe. We have to show
these to Mr. Dellinger, right away. But first, let’s put everything back the way it was.”
Ben began repacking the groceries while I replaced the plank over the hole, threw some
dirt on top, and restacked the boxes. I picked up the artifacts and headed toward the
entrance. Before I could reach the door, Ben grabbed my arm.
“Footsteps!” Ben whispered. “They’re coming back! Quick, slide out the back of the
tent,”
I snaked under the canvas, pulled myself upright, and waited for Ben. Ben emerged,
grabbed my arm, and sprinted towards a gray panel truck that was parked only a few
feet from the tent. He lunged for the cargo door handle knocking a padlock to the ground,
yanked me into the rear of the truck, and slammed the door.
Trying to shout over the pounding in my head, I gasped, “Are they coming ...”
“Shh,” Ben hissed. “Don’t make a sound.”
For the next few minutes, I listened for footsteps, but all I could hear was a faint
clanking coming from the tunnel and the warbling of a mockingbird somewhere in the
distance.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 10
I finally relaxed and began to explore our hiding place. In a neat row along
the back of the cargo compartment were several cardboard boxes, an
empty Coke bottle, a brown, dented, metal lunch pail, a stack of navyblue notebooks, and a chestnut-brown, leather satchel. Higher, near the
top of the wall that divided the driver’s seat from the cargo compartment,
a shaft of light streamed through a narrow window. I looked out, but a
decaying elm tree blocked my vision.
“Now we’re in a fix,” Ben fumed.
I could tell he was mad. I was just bored, so I plopped down on the stack of notebooks
and admired the artifacts.
“Oh pooh,” I said. “We’ll be glad I took these when we get home. They're proof we
traveled in time.”
“We’re not taking them home,” Ben stated, eyes flashing. “We’re taking them to Mr.
Dellinger as soon as it’s safe to get out of here.”
“No way,” I said, defiantly. I grabbed the satchel, opened it, jammed the artifacts
between the smooth leather, zippered it shut, and sat on top of it with a loud thud.
Before Ben could argue, a twig snapped outside the truck.
“Don’t make a sound,” Ben ordered, placing a finger to his mouth.
Then, the door sprung open revealing Yakov. He scowled at us, leaned over and
snatched the padlock off the ground, slammed the door closed, and snapped the lock in
place. We were trapped in the truck!
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
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Chapter 7 — Scorpion!
“Let me out! Let me out!” I yelled, banging on the door as hard as I could.
Ben pulled me away from the door, “He’s not going to let us out, Kinsey. You might as
well save your energy.”
“How long is he going to keep us here?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “But when Caretaker Ted discovers the artifacts are missing,
they’ll both be back.”
I was a teeny bit worried. “And then what’s gonna happen?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but banging on the door won’t get us out of here. We have to find
something to push this reset button so we can go home.”
Ben picked up a box and began searching. I picked up the lunch pail and casually
looked through the contents. A half-eaten peanut butter sandwich and two grapes. If I
wasn’t so tired, I might be interested. As it was, I decided to rest while Ben searched.
Just as I closed my eyes, Ben said in a strained voice, “Don’t move.”
I opened my eyes and looked at his face which was ghastly-pale. He pointed
to my leg. I looked down and stared as a cinnamon-colored scorpion slithered
across my leg. Then I screamed. The scorpion zig-zagged across the floor,
wriggled through a small hole in the truck floor, and disappeared from view.
Shaking from head to toe, I ran to Ben and clutched him around the
waist. He patted me, gently, and said,“It’s OK, Kinsey. You’ll be alright.”
I was beginning to realize that I made a mistake taking the artifacts. After I stopped
shaking, I grabbed the satchel, pulled out the axe and arrowhead, and placed them on the
floor in front of Ben,
“I’m sorry for causing all this trouble,” I said. “You can give these to Mr. Dellinger.”
Before Ben could answer, a yellow pencil rolled out of the satchel I was holding and
tumbled to Ben’s feet.
“A pencil!” Ben exclaimed. “Maybe it will fit the ‘Reset’ hole.” He grabbed the pencil,
turned the Viewer over, and attempted to insert the point into the hole.
“Rats, it’s not sharp enough,” he said, shaking his head side to side.
“Can’t we sharpen it?” I asked, hopefully.
“We don’t have anything to sharpen it with, but keep looking. Maybe there’s something
else we can use.”
I started to dump out the satchel when I heard the padlock rattle.
I looked at Ben, searching for his reaction. Ben’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the
door. I heard the padlock drop to the ground. Then, the door swung open and the confused
face of Mr. Dellinger appeared.
“Are you two alright?” Mr. Dellinger asked.
I let out a gasp of air and ran to Mr. Dellinger grabbing him around the waist. “I’m
sorry, Mr. Dellinger. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken those artifacts.”
“What artifacts?” Mr. Dellinger asked, his eyebrows wrinkled
“These,” Ben said, holding up the axe and arrowpoint.
“Where did you get those?” Mr. Dellinger said.
Ben and I explained how we came to possess the artifacts and how we happened to be
locked up in Mr. Dellinger’s truck. Afterwards, Mr. Dellinger said, “Come on. Let’s tell Mr.
Hobbs what’s going on.”
I scrambled out of the truck and followed sheepishly behind Mr. Dellinger and Ben.
Just outside the tunnel, Mr. Dellinger turned and said, “Wait here. No one’s allowed in
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 12
the tunnel except the owners. I’ll go a short way in and yell for them to come out. Kinsey,
will you hold my notebook?”
“Sure,” I said, taking his notebook in my hand. I felt better now. If he was letting me
hold his notebook, he must not be mad at me.
Mr. Dellinger ducked in the tunnel and quickly disappeared from sight. I sat down on a
pile of dirt and absently began flipping the edge of the pages in his notebook with my
fingers. I watched Ben push the ‘FAQ’ button on the Viewer and listened as he read out
loud:
‘The Caddoan-speaking people traded raw materials such as corn, beans, and squash
with other tribes located throughout much of the present U.S. for conch shells, copper,
lead, pottery, quartz, and flint which they used to make ornaments and ceremonial
implements.’
He pressed the ‘FAQ’ button again and read:
‘Some mounds were used to bury the dead, some had temples erected upon them, while
others, built on the highest mounds, were homes for powerful leaders.’
Hungry and wondering when I was going to get something to eat, I looked up to see if
Mr. Dellinger was coming. Then, my fingers touched something metal tucked in the
middle of Mr. Dellinger’s notebook.
I pulled the object out. It was silver and shaped like a keyhole. I held it out to Ben and
said, “Ben, look at this.”
Ben took the object between his two fingers and turned it this way and that. Then he
said, “It’s a paper clip! A banjo-shaped paper clip. This could be our way home!”
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 13
Chapter 8 — The Chase
Ben twisted the paper clip and pulled the center wire out exposing the point. “It’s
perfect!” he said.
I watched Ben pull the Viewer out of his pocket when something caught my eye.
Caretaker Ted and Yakov exited the tent and were heading in our direction!
“Ben,” I pulled his sleeve and lowered my voice. “Here they come.”
I heard Yakov say, “Those brats must have had the artifacts with them when I locked
them in the truck.” Then, I saw Caretaker Ted’s right foot slam to the ground. He stopped
abruptly and stared straight into my eyes as he roared, “There they are!”
Ben grabbed my arm and yanked me in the opposite direction, causing me to drop Mr.
Dellinger’s notebook. We raced down the side of the mound, circled the bottom, ran up the
front side, and finally stopped by the rusty wheelbarrow that was still standing near we
had originally arrived.
Brushing back a few strands of damp hair, I looked behind and breathed a sigh of
relief. No one was behind us.
Ben flipped the Viewer over. His hands were shaking as he aimed the end of the paper
clip at the ‘Reset’ button, but he missed.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied his hand and poked the paper clip at the hole again.
This time the clip made contact with the ‘Reset’ button, but nothing happened.
I looked up just in time to see Caretaker Ted and Yakov round the bottom of the mound
and begin racing towards us.
“Ben, hurry!” I said, “They’re coming!”
He hit the ‘Reset’ button again, but still nothing happened. “It must be loose again,” he
said. He opened the battery compartment and jiggled the connecting wires.
Caretaker Ted and Yakov were only a few yards away.
“Hurry, Ben,” I said.
Ben slammed the battery compartment shut and hit the ‘Reset’ button. This time the
screen lit up.
Caretaker Ted and Yakov were so close I could smell their sweat
“Hurry, Ben. They’re going to grab us!” I said..
Ben flipped the Viewer over and read from the screen, “To initiate time travel, hit
‘Return.’”
“Hit Return,” I yelled, pulling on his shirt, “Hit return!”
Ben jabbed the ‘Return’ button and the Viewer made its customary “bleep” sound. I felt
the ground twirl and then, Caretaker Ted, Yakov, and the ancient mounds disappeared in
a vapor of smoke.
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
Page 14
Chapter 9 — Home Again!
The aroma of breakfast greeted me as Uncle Wil’s kitchen gradually materialized into
view. My empty bowl of Cocoa Krispies was still on the table along side the bananas,
Uncle Wil’s leftover Mountain Dew, and a plate containing two eggs, sunny-side up, and
four slices of crisp bacon.
I sat down and grabbed a banana. “Can you believe it?” I said, peeling the banana.
“Breakfast is still here!”
“It’s like we’ve never been gone,” Ben said, looking all around the room. Then he looked
at the Viewer and pressed the ‘FAQ’ button. He read out loud:
‘By 1450 A.D., the Spiro site was abandoned. No one knows why they disappeared.’
“Maybe the moundbuilders had a Time Machine like ours!” I said, stuffing one end of
the banana in my mouth.
“I’m sure there’s a more reasonable explanation,” Ben chuckled.
As I held up the banana for another bite, Uncle Wil entered, followed by Martha and
Puppy Dog.
“Did you get the History Viewer working?” Uncle Wil asked, picking up his plate of
eggs and bacon.
“Yes, I did,” Ben said, leaning over to scratch Puppy Dog between the ears, “and I
learned a lot about the moundbuilders. Thanks, Uncle Wil.”
“You’re welcome.”
Gulping down a huge chunk of banana, I added, “We got to see the mounds in person!
And we found some really rare artifacts. And then a robber started chasing us and we got
locked in a truck and a scorpion almost bit me and. . .”
“Sounds like quite an adventure,” Uncle Wil laughed. He opened a cupboard over the
stove, grabbed a bottle of tabasco, and poured a river of hot sauce over his eggs.
“I’m glad it worked for you,” he continued. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got to get
back to my simulator.” With that, Uncle Wil left the room carrying his breakfast.
“Do you think he believed us?” I asked, surprised at Uncle Wil’s calm reaction.
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “Maybe time travel is normal in this house!”
“Yeah, maybe it is!” I said, shoving the last piece of banana in my mouth. After a few
chews, I added, “So, what are we going to do now?”
“I’m going to go write my report,” Ben said.
“Boring!” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t worry, Kinsey.” Ben winked at me as he headed out of the room. “I have to write
another report next week.”
Smiling, I wiped my mouth with a napkin, grabbed Puppy Dog, and headed out the
door towards the Lake,
“Puppy Dog,” I said, rubbing between his ears, “Living in Oklahoma is going to be OK!
THE END
Adventures at Spiro Mounds. © Copyright 2005 by Cindy Downes. All rights reserved.
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