The Mudhole Mystery by Beverly Lewis

ONE
    Splash, splish. Ooey, gooey .
    Globs of mud mashed between Dunkum’s fingers. He pressed his hands deep into the dirt. Digging for treasure was a great way to spend a Saturday.
    Dunkum’s real name was Edward Mifflin. His friends called him Dunkum. He was very tall. And the best basketball player around.
    Basketball was the last thing on Dunkum’s mind, today. He was dreaming of gold gems and jewels. Maybe the pirate kind.
    Today was May twenty-second. A special day. His grandma’s holiday book called it: Mysteries Are Marvelous Day.
    Dunkum loved mysteries. Today was a good day to dig for one. Gold or jewels. Anything would do!
    He really didn’t know if there was gold in the hole. But it didn’t matter. He loved the ooshy-gooshy feel.
    What a messy, mucky hole it was—a giant one. It was the biggest mudhole in the world. Well, in the cul-de-sac.
    Suddenly, Dunkum’s fingers touched something slimy. Out of the goosh, he pulled a long, skinny worm.
    â€œMaybe I should save this creepy creature for Stacy Henry. She hates worms.”
    â€œSays who?” someone called behind him.
    Dunkum looked around.
    Stacy was standing there, grinning.
    Gulp .
    â€œOh, hi,” he said. Dunkum tossed the worm back into the muddy brown pudding.

    Burp! The mudhole belched right there in Mr. Tressler’s backyard.
    â€œYou were talking to yourself, weren’t you?” Stacy asked.
    Dunkum didn’t answer.
    â€œI heard you.” Stacy stared at him, then at the mudhole. “What a horrible mess.”
    Dunkum pulled out a mound of mud. “Care for a glob of pudding?”
    Stacy shook her head. “I hate dirt. Messes too.”
    â€œNo kidding,” Dunkum whispered. He threw the mud back into the hole. Splat!
    â€œRemember Pet Day?” Dunkum said. “Remember when Jason’s bullfrog landed on your lap?”
    Stacy twisted her blond hair. “So what?”
    Dunkum continued. “You had to go wash the froggy feel off your hands. That’swhat.” He laughed about it.
    â€œIt’s not nice to dig up the past,” Stacy said.
    Dunkum stuck his hands back into the mud bubble. Deeper and deeper into the gloppy bog he pushed.
    He was up to his funny bones on both arms. No one tickled his funny bone and got away with it. But something was definitely thumping his left elbow. And it wasn’t a tickle. It was a bumpity-muddy-bump.
    â€œHey!” he hollered at the mudhole. “Quit that.”
    Stacy laughed at him. “Now, who are you talking to?”
    â€œThe mudhole, that’s who.” Dunkum hit the oozy-goozy mud again.
    There was definitely something there. Something big.
    Dunkum’s eyes grew wide. “Hey! Maybe I’ve found a mystery!” He pulled and sputtered. His face turned hot purple.
    Stacy stepped back. She sure didn’t want to get her new outfit dirty. Or her sneakers. “What is it?” she asked.
    Dunkum’s eyes were slits. His lips flattened out. “A mystery in a mudhole,” he whispered.
    He was thinking of pirates and treasure. Maybe gold!
    What was in the mudhole?

TWO
    Dunkum stirred the mud around. He swirled and mixed it. He struggled against the hard lump.
    â€œMaybe it’s a dinosaur bone,” he said.
    â€œCool!” Stacy said. “We could put it on display. Maybe start up a museum.”
    Just then the mudhole gobbled up Dunkum’s arms.
    Stacy yelled, “I can’t see your elbows!”
    Dunkum grunted and shoved. His face was down close to the mud. “The lump is too big. I need a shovel.”
    Click . Someone was opening Mr. Tressler’s yard gate.
    Dunkum looked up. There stood Jason Birchall. He was carrying his bullfrog, Croaker.
    â€œWho needs a shovel?” Jason asked.
    Stacy spoke up. “Dunkum thinks he found a dinosaur bone. Over there.”
    Jason pushed up his glasses. “Croaker doesn’t see any dinosaur bones. Do you,