In this third book of the classic chapter book series by award-winning author Sharon M. Draper, four boys who call themselves the Black Dinosaurs go on a spooky camping trip filled with Native American lore. Ziggy and friends are excited about their overnight camping trip to Caesar’s Creek State Park—named after a Shawnee chief. Their camp counselor is a descendant of Caesar and fills the campers’ imaginations with fun (and spooky!) stories about her ancestors and the Shawnee legends. When Ziggy and the rest of the Clubhouse gang decide to test their courage like the Shawnee youth did, things don’t go quite as planned. And when they end up lost, strange things start to happen. Could it just be the animals roaming the woods? Or are the ancient spirits of Caesar back to haunt their old stomping grounds? Sharon M. Draper is the New York Times bestselling author of Out of My Mind , Blende d, and Out of My Heart . She’s won Coretta Scott King Awards for Copper Sun and Forged by Fire and multiple honors. She’s also the recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award honoring her significant and lasting contribution to writing for teens. Sharon taught high school English for twenty-five years and was named National Teacher of the Year. She lives in Florida. Visit her at SharonDraper.com. Jesse Joshua Watson connects with people—where hammocking in Brazil, exploring Hong Kong, playing soccer in Haiti, or dodging taxis in Russia. He loves both the differences and similarities that are so colorfully displayed across our diverse world and reflects this passion in his illustrations, which have been featured in magazines, art publications, CD covers, children’s books, and on The Oprah Winfrey Show . His work appears in the New York Times bestselling Hank Zipzer series, the Clubhouse Mysteries (Ziggy and the Black Dinosaurs) series, Hope for Haiti , and more. He won the 2005 grand prize and was a 2006 finalist at the international SCBWI New York Showcase. Jesse lives with his wife and sons in Washington where he teaches art to kids, plays music occasionally and soccer religiously, and surfs the chilly northwest waters as often as he can. Visit him online at JesseWatson.com. ZIGGY’S THOUGHTS BOUNCED LIKE HOT POPCORN as he ran through his backyard to the clubhouse of the Black Dinosaurs. An overnight camping trip he thought eagerly. Fishing Hiking Cooking over a campfire He couldn’t wait to talk to Rico, Rashawn, and Jerome, the other members of the Black Dinosaurs, about the letter from Camp Caesar. Ziggy’s huge backyard was wonderful. It was a place where flowers, weeds, rabbits, and ten-year-old boys could grow wild. It was a place to dream and create—a perfect location for secrets and adventures. Ziggy followed a path, probably used by raccoons, which ran back through the thick underbrush to the clubhouse. Using the remains of an old fence that the boys had found in Ziggy’s backyard, they had built the clubhouse themselves the previous summer. They had cut holes that looked a lot like windows in the two side walls, and for the door, they’d used a smaller section of the fence wall. It closed with a bent piece of wire coat hanger. Inside, the clubhouse was about ten feet by twelve feet—not really big, but large enough for four boys to sit and talk. In it was one lawn chair with most of the webbing missing, one folding chair left over from a church picnic, one three-legged kitchen chair (they used a large rock to balance it), and a bicycle with two flat tires. This was their seating arrangement, or they could push everything aside and sit on the blanket that Ziggy’s mom had given them. Just as Ziggy got to the front of the clubhouse, he tripped over his shoelace, lost his balance, landed on his backside, and rolled with a laugh to the door, where Jerome was waiting for him. Ziggy never walked anywhere—he bounced or jogged or galloped wherever he went. He was always in a good mood, always excited about whatever was happening around him. So Jerome was not surprised when Ziggy landed at his feet, bubbling with excitement. He helped Ziggy up and asked with a laugh, “What’s up, Ziggy?” “Did your letter come, mon? Are you packed? Where are Rico and Rashawn?” Ziggy’s eyes were bright. Behind him, the boys could hear the rustling of something in the bushes. Rashawn’s Siberian husky, Afrika, with one blue eye and one brown eye, trotted out of the bushes, found his favorite spot under a tree, and went to sleep. Rashawn, tall, brown, and skinny, and wearing his favorite army boots, stomped through the backyard and sat down on a large rock in front of the clubhouse. “What’s goin’ on, fellas?” he asked. “Where’s Rico?” Ziggy was still hopping around enthusiastically. He wore a green vest, a blue shirt, and bright red jeans. Today a large knitted cap covered his braids, which usually bounced as much as he did. Ziggy’s family had come from Jamaica to Ohio several years before and had moved onto the street in Ci