MATT BURTON'S TREASURE FIND
When they heard the remarkable news that Matt Burton had discovered the
treasure the curiosity of the two boys was beyond measure. They were
pushing their way eagerly toward the group to get the full news when a
running noose dropped from the overhanging limb of a great tree and
neatly entwined them. Their progress was checked.
"That's Chick-chick," said Apple, without looking up. "He's always
playing some kind of a trick. Let go your hold of that rope,
Chick-chick."
The joker dropped down from the branch almost on top of them.
"I was just fixing a swing when ye came 'long," he explained, in his
jerky fashion. "Too good a chance to miss, it was, and worked fine, it
did. Don't be in a hurry."
"You loosen this rope and let us go. We want to get the news."
"'Tain't s' important as you think. Gives the Great an' Only Matty a
chance t' spread himself. Come on to dinner; you'll hear all 'bout it."
Dinner was indeed ready and the boys were filling up the long table, for
Mr. Newton had decreed that no action should be taken on Matt's
discovery until after dinner.
When all was cleared away and the boys were ready to dismiss he made the
announcement: "Burton will now tell us of his discovery; the site he
selected, how he has worked and what he has found."
"Rah for the Great and Only," yelled Chick-chick, and, the designated
title being popularly known and approved, the "rah" was given before
Matt began to speak.
There was no embarrassment about Matt Burton as he rose to speak. He was
about fifteen years old, tall, straight and handsome. A mass of dark
brown hair with well-set eyes of the same shade and regular features
gave vigor to his head and face. He was of good family and had been
reared in a home of refinement and taught to feel at ease under all
circumstances. He accepted his nickname of "The Great and Only Matty"
with some complacency, as being not inappropriate, especially since his
pitching was the star feature of their baseball playing. A wise father
had sent him to the scouts to "get acquainted with himself" but so far
the process had not reached perfection. He began to talk with a smile of
confidence.
"I know a lot about buried treasure from what I've read and heard tell
of," said he, "so I decided to work out my own plans. Chick-chick and
Goosey offered to come with me, but I had ideas of my own. I knew a few
things about how to look. I knew it was no good to look on top of the
ground--might as well look up in trees. Then I knew there's always a
false scent thrown out to put searchers off the track. I figured that
the false scent was probably the story of the lake. So instead of
choosing any place in the Hollow I looked around until I found a heap of
rock near the timber. And then I chose one hundred feet from the timber
line southeast of the Hollow. I knew that the heap of rock wouldn't be
the only sign--there's always a second sign given in a treasure hunt.
Usually, in all the books I've read, the second sign is a tree or some
tall object which casts a shadow at a certain hour of the day at just
the point where you ought to dig."
"What hour?" shouted a boy.
"I'm coming to that. I looked around for the rock heap and decided to
pace off a hundred feet. I got no results worth while until I tried it
due south. This time it brought me to an old stump of a very peculiar
appearance that might have been there a hundred years. It was about ten
feet high, and of course the length of its shadow was different at
different times of the day. The only guide I had was in the heap of
rock. There were four rocks in it. As there is no sun at four o'clock in
the morning it was a sure thing that I must choose four in the
afternoon. So I waited until four o'clock and at the exact spot where
the peculiar knobby head of that stump threw its shadow I commenced to
dig."
The boys were listening in strained silence. One of the younger ones
squeaked "Rah for Matty!" but drew no response.
"I dug until supper time," continued Matt. "It was hard work, but I made
a pretty good hole though I found nothing. Nobody had been around to
bother me. I just stuck up a couple of sticks at supper time and came
in. This morning I was late getting to work. Digging alone so hard
yesterday had taken off some of my appetite, and I didn't dream of what
I was going to find so I didn't hurry much. But I found the ground
turned up easier and I had hardly dug twenty minutes before my spade
struck something that gave out a metallic ring. I scraped away the dirt
until I could see a metal object like the lid of a box about fourteen by
eighteen inches. The ground all around it was hard and I could not get
it loose. I tried to get my fingers under it but couldn't do it. The
dinner call was sounded. I wouldn't have come only I was obliged to have
some help anyway, and I thought I'd better tell the scout master all
about it and have him see fair play."
"Which the scout master will proceed to do," added Mr. Newton. "We will
follow Matt to the scene of his explorations which we hope will turn out
to be the treasure, although one box fourteen by eighteen inches would
not hold a great deal of bullion. Still there may be other boxes. Who
were the boys who wanted to work with you, Matt?"
"Chick-chick and Goosey," replied Matt.
"Very well. You two boys may take a pick and a spade and help Matt get
his box out."
The boys did not respond willingly.
"We don't want to," said Chick-chick. "He didn't want us yesterday and
he won't want us to-day. Let Brick Mason and Apple do it."
"I don't like that spirit, Henry, but we'll excuse you. Corliss and Glen
will do the work."
"You don't seem very much excited over this find," said Glen to Spencer,
as he pushed him along in his billy-cart.
"I'd be more excited if they found a gushing spring, my boy. I don't
excite easily over buried gold."
"Well, we'll soon see. If I get hold of that pick I'll soon have that
box loose."
Matt Burton did not really relish Glen's aid, but he could offer no
valid objection. A few rapid and accurate strokes with the pick loosened
the hard earth, and Apple and Matt quickly spaded it out. As soon as a
grip could be obtained Matt seized the box. It certainly was heavy,
especially since he could not yet get a good grip on it. Apple lifted
one side and slowly but with great excitement they brought the
mysterious box from its hiding place.
A look of disgust swept the features of Matt Burton as he looked at his
treasure and read the white letters on the side of the box.
From the edge of the pit came a roar of laughter from Black Bob, the
cook, who had been eagerly watching the proceedings.
"Ah ben missin' that yere bread box since yis'day two days gone," he
shouted. "Dat ah is mah treasure. Bring her up yere!"
Glen, on his knees, had thrown open the lid of the box. As he saw its
contents to be damp earth, tightly tamped, his roar of laughter equaled
that of Black Bob.
"Wow!" he shouted. "Look at this. The treasure's name is Mud!"
Matt's look of disgust had changed to fiery anger.
"You're the one who put this trick up on me," he shouted. "You've been
rubbing me wrong ever since we let you in here from nowhere. Now I'm
going to pay you up!"
He made a wild lunge forward at Glen, and in a second the two were
locked in a rough and tumble conflict in the narrow confines of the pit.
But the scout master reached down from above and seized each by the
collar, and Apple valiantly pushed himself in between their belligerent
forms.
"Enough of that, boys," said Mr. Newton. "Climb out of that hole. Glen,
what have you to say to this charge."
But Glen was spared from making an answer, for Henry Henry stood forth
and spoke.
"He didn't do it, Mr. Newton. It was me," confessed Chick-chick, more
convincing than grammatical. "Goosey was in it with me. When Matt turned
us down yesterday we thought we'd give him something to dig for. Never
dreamed he'd make big blow 'bout it. Just s'posed be little joke all t'
himself. We came last night, dug down to hard pan; cut hole s' near
exact size o' bread box as we could, made it heavy with dirt and turned
it in upside down. Just joke, Mr. Newton."
And as "just a joke" it did not seem so very reprehensible, for a good
joke that does no harm is not out of place in a scout camp. Mr. Newton
had a private conversation with Henry Henry about his joke, but
Chick-chick never told the boys what he said. The scout master also had
a private conversation with Matt Burton and this also was kept a secret,
but though it may have done Matt good it did not improve his attitude
toward "Brick" Mason.
In most things Glen found the succeeding days marked by such happiness
as he had never before enjoyed. He was a boy among boys. No one asked
about his past. Scouts are taught to live in the present. It is not what
they have been, but what they are and are aiming to be that carries
weight. He found his word accepted as truth and so he made strong
efforts to make it true. He did not spend his days in perfect harmony.
The old disposition to have everything his own way still existed and
many an angry word flared up and many times he was near the fighting
line, but this had been so much a part of his every day living for so
many years that it troubled him but little. Even with Matt Burton he had
not come to blows, though Matt continued to assign to him disagreeable
tasks, so markedly indeed, that Mr. Newton announced that he would make
all assignments himself, henceforth. The treasure hunt proceeded with
more or less zest but neither real nor fancied treasure was discovered.
Nevertheless it supplied a new interest each day, and Glen
enthusiastically did his share in keeping the interest alive. Every part
of every day was in vivid contrast to the dull monotonous life he had
been living. And yet he was not satisfied, there remained an eager
longing for something, he knew not what; a great unsatisfied craving.
Glen was always a sound sleeper. He dreamed of the camp one night. The
tussle with Matt Burton had really come, at last. He seemed to do very
well at first but Matt had seized a pickax (the very one used in
unearthing the bread box) and was beating him about the head with it.
Fortunately he awoke before he was badly damaged. Spencer was reaching
over from his cot and tapping his face with his cane.
"Get up, Brick! Get up! Brick is a good name for you, my hard-baked
friend. Get up! This tent will be in the next county in five minutes.
Get up! You would sleep on, and come to no harm if we were carried
twenty miles, but being slightly crippled, I'd be sure to struggle and
get hurt. Get up!"
The wind was blowing furiously and the tent almost capsized. Glen was
out of bed in a flash, wide awake. He knew where to get a heavy hammer
and made short work of driving home the stakes and securing the flapping
canvas.
"Not very clever of you to plant your tent stakes so the first strong
wind would blow them out of the ground," said Spencer.
"The wind didn't blow them out, and the strain of the ropes didn't pull
them out. I fixed those stakes just before I went to bed. Who do you
suppose yanked them up?"
"I never was good at riddles," replied Spencer. "Maybe it was Mr.
Newton."
"Yes," said Glen, "or Apple! Just like 'em. Try another guess."
"No, I'm afraid I would say something that might excite you. Go to
sleep. Every one has troubles, but it's no good weeping about 'em.
'Laugh and the world laughs with you.'"
"I haven't any troubles and I can afford to laugh," said Glen. "The
day's beginning to break but I think I'll take a Sunday morning snooze."
And over in the county into which Will Spencer had predicted they would
be blown a man was just awaking from his snooze. He had slept all night
in an automobile, as he frequently did. The automobile was no ordinary
car. It had a driver's seat in front and a closed car behind. Bright
colored letters announced to the world that J. Jervice supplied the
public with a full line of novelties, including rugs, curtains, rare
laces and Jervice's Live Stock Condition Powders.
Mr. J. Jervice yawned and stretched, and rubbed his eyes.
"I think I'll get on to Buffalo Center to-day," he soliloquized. "The
boss didn't say to come until to-morrow an' the rest o' the gang won't
be there until night, anyway. That'll give me a chance to do a nice
little business at that Boy Scout Camp I hear they've got there. It's
Sunday but I reckon I can sell a few things. Ought to get rid of some
flags and knives and a little tinware."
It was nice that Glen could feel that he had no troubles, but perhaps he
did not know of the intentions of Mr. Jervice.