Lunch
time at school revolved around Mist trying to avoid Stu and his followers, all
the while trying to finish off his lunch before one of the bigger kids snagged
it. But today, Stu had gathered a
larger than usual crowd. Without making
too much eye contact, Mist moved from his place beside the back wall over a
little closer to the crowd.
“My
dad said that he doesn’t even know how much treasure there is,” bragged Stu, “
he figures it’s got to be worth millions.
He just has to finish finding it.
He already knows where the cave is at.”
Mist’s
ears perked to the talk of treasure. He
always thought he could find some.
Mist’s dad had lain in bed telling wild imaginary stories of treasure
hunting with Mist, as soon as he had enough money to quit the factory. Mist would stare at the darkened ceiling,
not seeing old weathered boards, but caves, blimps, explosions, and booby
traps. Mist had always dreamed that he
and his father would find the treasure together. But now that dream had changed.
Mist breathed a deep sigh and listened to Stu while nibbling
half-heartedly on his sandwich.
“The
old man even has one of his boys up there keeping an eye on the cave. Don’t want nobody else come creepin’ around
up there. Not with this much treasure
just waitin’…” Stu was cut short as Mist, who had been mindlessly creeping
closer, bumped into the beautiful Natalie Sellers, dumping her sandwich onto
Stu’s shoe.
“Hey,
watch it pip squeak! What are you
trying to do here, anyway?”, shouted Stu.
He picked up Mist by the front of his jacket as Mist mumbled a confused
apology. Staring eye to eye, and with
Mist’s feet dangling Stu felt his mustache with his lower lip and warned, “If I
ever see you so much as breathe near Miss Natalie, I will tan your Michigan hide.”
Mist
reached into his back pocket, with his feet still a foot off the ground, and
felt for his black leather pouch.
Reaching inside he quickly felt around until he could feel the points of
the lion’s mane. The coin was in his
front pocket. If he could only reach
it. . .
Miss
Barndt stepped out the the door and rang her bell.
“Time
for class children.”
Her
voice was like music to Mist’s ears. He
released the lion and the coin as he felt his feet coming back to solid ground.
“Remember
what I said, boy. You even breathe on
her and,“ Stu made a slashing motion with his thumb across his neck. Mist got the point. But he wasn’t even thinking about the
warning. His mind was on the treasure.
Miss
Barndt sat the students down on their benches and began to ask each one what
they would be doing after this, the last day of school. Some were going to work with their
parents. Some were taking care of the
brothers and sisters.
“And
Stu, what about you?”, asked Miss Barndt.
“Well,
I figure my I’ll be loggin’ with my old man, that’s if he don’t find the
treasure first.” He glanced around to
make sure that everyone knew he was special.
“And
you, Natalie?”
“I’m
going to explore the library and read as many books as I can.”
This
answer shocked Mist in more ways than one.
First, he didn’t think Natalie would like reading all that much. She seemed to be more interested in her hair
and gaining Stu’s attention than reading.
And second, he was going to be working at the library all summer!
“And
what about you, Mist, do you know what you will be doing this summer.”
Mist’s
mind spun! How was he supposed to
answer this question without getting beat up?
“Uh,
well, I guess I’ll be helping Agnes. If
I can,” stumbled Mist, hoping this would be satisfactory.
“Oh
really?” replied Miss Barndt. “I guess
you and Natalie will really get to know one another then, seeing as how Agnes
runs the library.”
Mist
couldn’t even breathe, yet alone answer Miss Barndt. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Stu’s eyes
glaring his way as he slid his thumb across his throat. Dead meat.
The
school day came to a close and Mist bolted out of the schoolhouse, shooting a
brief thanks to Miss Barndt and racing away from Stu. Mist headed straight to the library, which was where Agnes had
told him to meet her. She had a project
for him to finish today.
The
wooden steps to the library were old and creaked as Mist walked up them. The front door was heavy with rusty hinges
from sitting too long in the ocean air.
Mist entered the library and immediately saw Agnes at her desk, slowly
checking library cards. Her eyes didn’t
even look up.
“I
need you to get down stairs and sort out some of the boxes of books in the far
corner. You know I can’t get down that
hole.”
Mist
obeyed and headed for the back room. In
the corner was a trap door that looked more like the entrance to a cellar than
a library basement. Mist grabbed a
lantern and twisted down the rickety ladder into the cold, damp air. Agnes had showed Mist the place a few days
prior, and somehow it felt safe. There
was a dampness that reminded Mist of his root cellar back home. The smell was different, though, as the
scents of mildew and leather bound books mingled. Mist knew what he was supposed to do.
In
the far corner was a stack of ancient crates that held old books as well as a
lot of paper scraps and garbage. It was
his job to sort through the boxes and bring up the books that could be filed in
the library. Mist enjoyed digging
through the crates. They were so old,
that it felt like a treasure hunt every time he pulled out another book. Mist reached into the crate that he had
started working on a few days prior and pulled out the rest of the books. A cloud of dust swirled around his head and
he coughed as moved the stack. Mist’s
foot tripped on the floor and quick as a flash, he was falling to the hard,
dirt floor. The books landed with a
crash and papers flew everywhere.
“Take
care down there,” scolded Agnes from the trap door, “those books are old and
fragile.”
Mist
rolled his eyes. He could think of at
least one other thing that was “old and fragile” too. He smirked as he started picking up the books and loose papers. Mist stopped part way through the
stack. The flickering light landed on a
hand written note sticking out of one of the books. The paper looked old. He
slid out the note and found that it was actually a few pages folded together. The paper was yellowed and dry. The writing was done in cursive, but was
jerky and a little uneven. There was a
date written on the top of the paper; December 2, 1805. Wow, it really was old! Mist continued to read the note, now realizing
that it was a journal.
December
2, 1805
The
rain continued today. We have traveled
up the river at least two miles. A
bunch of 8 Indians came by the spit of sand we were hunting from. They desired
to trade for my rifle but I was concerned that they might not have anything of
value. They laid out a theodolite. I was surprised by the craftsmanship. They also showed me a coin of which I had
never seen before. They said that they
could give me the location of many of these coins. These were gold on one side and silver on the reverse. Inscribed on the gold side is the eye of a
tiger. On the silver is a tiger hiding in bushes. I traded one of my rifles for the theodolite and the coin. I will call it a Tiger’s Eye.
Meriwether Lewis
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