The Seven Treasure Hunts

by Betsy Byars

  “There is no need for that. It was just a mix-up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But next time—ask!”

  “I will. Oh, I will. Is it all right if I sit down on the steps and wait for Goat?”

  “Yes.”

  I sank down on the steps. I felt terrible. I always do when things go wrong and they are my fault.

  Finally I saw Goat coming around the comer. He had a small brown bag in one hand. He was walking very slowly.

  “Goat!”

  I got up quickly and went to meet him.

  He said, “I can’t play. I’m being punished. Some stupid idiot ate my sister’s Popsicle and I’m being blamed for it.”

  I swallowed.

  “Goat,” I said, “I am the stupid idiot.”

  “What?”

  “I ate the Popsicle.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I got your clues. I followed them to your refrigerator. I opened it. There was the Popsicle. I ate it.”

  “It was the ogre’s!”

  “I know. Your mom told me. I explained to her that I was the stupid idiot, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “It would have been better if it had been anybody else’s Popsicle. The ogre never forgets.”

  Goat sighed.

  “Well, I’ve got to go put this in the freezer before it melts. Then after supper, I’ll have to watch Rachel eat it. It is not going to be a happy evening.”

  He started in the house.

  I followed him up the steps. “Want to do treasures after supper?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not really.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “I’ve had enough treasure hunts. Anyway, something always goes wrong.”

  “What else could go wrong?” I asked. “Everything bad has already happened.”

  “I don’t know—something.”

  “Come on, Goat. Please.” I began to beg. “You don’t even have to make clues this time. I’ll do it all. I’ve already got my treasure—”

  I patted my pocket and the paper rustled.

  “And it’s something you like—three things you like. Actually, it’s three things you love!”

  Goat looked interested. He glanced at the bulge in my pocket.

  Then he shook his head again. He said, “It will be dark soon. I don’t like to dig in the dark.”

  “I’ll hide it where there’s light.”

  Goat hesitated.

  “And you won’t have to dig. I promise. Come on. Be a pal.”

  “Oh, all right,” Goat said. “I’ll meet you at the corner after supper. But if this doesn’t go right, I am through with treasure hunts.”

  “Me too.”

  “Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t. And you will not be disappointed, Goat. That’s another promise.”

  Goat went in his house to put Rachel’s Popsicle in the freezer.

  I ran hard for home.

  Chapter Four

  The Hunt for the Missing Treasure

  “May I be excused?” I asked my mom that night at supper.

  I had already asked this two times, and two times she had answered, “Not until you’ve finished your supper.”

  This time she just said, “No. Eat.”

  “But Mom, Goat and I are having a treasure hunt after supper. I can’t use my map because Goat doesn’t want to dig in the dark. I’ve got to make up clues!”

  “You can make them up after supper.”

  “Mom!”

  She pointed to my plate. When my mom points, I eat.

  I finally finished supper and ran to my room. I got a sheet of paper.

  I was going to do a clue that was really tricky. Goat would have a hard time figuring it out.

  The tricky part was this: I was going to write the clue backward. Goat would have to look in the mirror to read it.

  It was not easy. First I had to write the clue forward.

  RETURN TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME!

  Then I had to copy it backward.

  Then I had to look in the mirror to make sure I had it right.

  Right? It was perfect!

  I was very excited. I put the paper in my pocket with my treasure. Then I left the house.

  “I’m going to Goat’s,” I yelled as I ran down the steps.

  I sneaked to the corner, going from tree to tree because I didn’t want Goat to see me. I peered around the last tree.

  Goat was there, waiting by the mail­box.

  I ran quickly to his house and rang the bell. His sister, Rachel, opened the door. I was not happy about that.

  “Goat’s not here,” she said.

  “I know. I just need to come in for a minute.”

  She waited until I was halfway through the door, and then she shut the door on me. She did this to me a lot, but tonight—because of the Popsicle—she did it so hard it hurt.

  I rubbed my chest. It seemed all right. The treasure did too.

  “I know he’s not here, Rachel.” I pulled out the bag. “I’ve got to hide this in the freezer.”

  “You have been in our freezer enough today,” she said. She gave me a look any ogre would have been proud of.

  “Look, I’m sorry about your Popsicle. I really am. It was an accident.”

  She gave me another ogre look.

  I said, “I just need to put this in the freezer. That’s all. Then I’ll go.”

  “What is it?”

  I held up my bag with the comic book, the fake ice cube, and the four M&M’s.

  “It’s a treasure,” I said proudly.

  “That is a treasure?”

  “Yes. I’m hiding it for Goat. I don’t have much time, Rachel. Please let me put it in the freezer.”

  “What for?”

  “So he can find it. Look, I made a clue. Come here. I’ll show you.”

  She followed me to the mirror. I took out my paper and held it up so she could read it.

  “Return to the scene of the crime,” she read. “Big deal.”

  Then she looked at me. “So?”

  “So the scene of the crime is the freezer. That’s where I stole the Popsicle from. I mean, that is where I accidentally took the Popsicle.”

  “You had it right the first time—stole the Popsicle,” she said coldly.

  “Come on, Rachel, give me a break. Let me put this in the freezer.”

  “No.”

  “Rachel!”

  “I will put it in the freezer.” She held out her hand.

  “But I want to—”

  “No. I do not trust you. I have not eaten my chocolate Popsicle yet, and it would be just like you to—”

  “No, no. I would never eat another chocolate Popsicle from your freezer. Honest.”

  She took the treasure bag, and she went into the kitchen, holding it in front of her as if it smelled bad.

  “Thanks, Rachel,” I called after her. “And I’m really, really, really sorry about your Popsicle.”

  “You should be,” she said over her shoulder.

  I ran down the steps and met Goat at the corner. He said, “What took you so long?”

  “Hiding treasure,” I said.

  I rubbed my hands together. Then I reached into my pocket.

  “Here.”

  I gave him the slip of paper. I watched him as he looked at the letters.

  “What is this?”

  “You’ve got to figure it out, Goat my Pal. It’s tricky. I admit that. Very, very tricky.”

  Goat turned the paper upside down and looked at it. He turned it sideways. He turned it right side up.

  “Maybe one letter stands for another one,” he said. He watched me for my reaction.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “No. I can tell by how you answered that’s not right. It must be— Oh, ho, ho. Now I get it.”

  Goat started getting excited.

  “Already?” I asked. “What? I don’t believe you know. What do you think it is?”

/>   “I don’t think. I know.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “You don’t mind if I go home, do you, Jackie?” he asked. He was smiling.

  “Home?” I said.

  “Yes, home,” he said. “There’s a mirror in my living room.”

  “What would you want a mirror for?”

  I tried to keep pretending he had not guessed the trick.

  “I want to look at myself in the mirror, if you don’t mind.”

  He was grinning. I was frowning.

  “You want to come along?” Goat asked.

  “I guess.”

  Goat started quickly for home. I followed.

  I was very disappointed. The treasure hunt had not lasted as long as I thought it would. It had not even lasted a minute. Goat had caught on right away. This was no fun.

  I went up the steps to Goat’s house and stopped at the door. Through the screen I could see Goat was already in front of the mirror. The paper was on his chest. He was reading.

  “Return to the scene of the crime,” he said aloud.

  I opened the door and went inside. Now the only fun would be watching him open the bag, watching him enjoy the comic book, the fake ice cube, the M&M’s. The only suspense was whether he would share the M&M’s or eat all four of them himself.

  “Jackson my Man,” Goat said, “the scene of the crime could be only one thing—the freezer.”

  I sighed.

  “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go to the kitchen.”

  He went into the kitchen. He was whistling happily. I followed. I was not whistling.

  Goat opened the refrigerator door. He opened the freezer.

  He stopped whistling. His mouth fell open. Mine did too.

  The treasure was gone.

  Chapter Five

  The Hunt for the Buried Treasure

  “All right, where is it?” Goat said.

  He spun around. His hands were on his hips. His eyes were slits in his face.

  If he had been a real goat, he would have charged.

  “That’s not fair,” he went on. “You have to put the treasure where the clues say. So where is it? What did you do with it?”

  My mouth was still hanging open. I was more surprised than Goat was.

  “I thought it was there,” I said. “It was supposed to be right there.”

  I pointed.

  “Where exactly did you put it?”

  “Well, I didn’t put it anywhere. Your sister wouldn’t let me. She doesn’t trust me where freezers are concerned.”

  “I wonder why,” Goat said meanly.

  I didn’t say anything for a moment, just put my hands in my pockets.

  Finally, Goat broke the silence. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You gave my treasure to the ogre?”

  I nodded.

  He pointed to himself. “My treasure?”

  Again I nodded.

  “To the Ogre?”

  “I had to! She didn’t give me any choice.”

  “I know,” Goat said. He patted my arm. “She does that to me a lot.”

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “We’re going to find out what she did with it.”

  “Right!”

  “Follow me.”

  I followed Goat out of the kitchen. We marched in single file down the hall to the ogre’s room.

  From the doorway, Goat said, “All right, where is it?”

  The ogre looked up from her book. “Where is what?”

  “The treasure. You did something with my treasure!” Goat said. His hands were on his hips again.

  “What makes you think I did something with your treasure?” she asked innocently.

  “Because you were the last person to have the treasure, that’s why. Because you were supposed to put it in the freezer, that’s why. Because it’s not there, that’s why. Because—”

  “Oh, that’s enough,” the ogre said. “Spare me.”

  She leaned back against her pillows. We waited in the doorway.

  Finally Rachel said, “Maybe I did take the treasure, maybe I didn’t.”

  “What did you do with it?” Goat asked.

  “I did exactly what people are supposed to do with treasure.”

  “What’s that?” Goat asked.

  She gave a haglike grin.

  “I buried it.”

  “What?”

  Goat took two steps into his sister’s room. Goat had not been allowed in his sister’s room since he let the cat play with her Barbie doll heads.

  Rachel yelled, “Mom! Goat’s in my room.”

  Goat stepped quickly back into the hall. “I’m not either.”

  “Well, he was,” Rachel said. “And he better not come in here again either.”

  “Where did you bury it?” Goat said.

  “Listen,” she said, “you two are the big experts on treasure.”

  “Rachel—”

  “You find it.”

  “Rachel—” Goat took one step into her room. I couldn’t help it. I did the same thing.

  “Mom! Goat and Jackson are in my room!”

  Goat and I jumped back into the hall. We gave some ogre looks of our own.

  She yawned and went back to her book.

  “Don’t bother me anymore,” she said. “I have to write a book report for school Monday.”

  She turned onto her stomach. Then she glanced over her shoulder at us. In a nice voice she said, “Oh, please close the door when you leave.”

  Goat said, “I’m not leaving until you tell me where my treasure is. I mean it! I am going to stand right here”—he pointed to his feet—“on this spot until you tell me. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what you do. I am standing right on this spot until—”

  Rachel got off the bed. She walked to the door.

  For a moment I thought she was going to relent. I thought she was going to tell us where she had buried the treasure.

  Then she smiled. When I saw that crocodile smile, I knew she would never tell. All my valuables—the comic book, the fake ice cube with the fly, the four M&M’s—were lost forever.

  “You kiddies have fun,” she said.

  And she shut the door in our faces.

  The sound of our angry breathing filled the hall. Then there was the sound of a key turning in the lock of Rachel’s door.

  Then there were no sounds at all.

  Chapter Six

  The Hunt for the Garbage Treasure

  Goat and I were sitting on the side of his bed, breathing hard. We had been doing this ever since the ogre shut the door in our faces and locked it.

  Finally, I asked, “So where do you think she buried it?”

  “Who knows?” Goat said.

  “She’s your sister.”

  “I know, but my sister’s the kind of person who would bury it in the worst place she could find—a spooky cemetery or a bat cave—just so she could make us suffer.”

  “Well, she hasn’t had time to bury it in a cemetery or a bat cave. It’s only been ten minutes since I gave it to her.”

  “In ten minutes the ogre could find a terrible place, believe me.”

  “Maybe we should go out in the yard with a flashlight,” I said. “We could shine it around and look for freshly dug dirt.”

  Goat thought it over for a while. Then he shook his head.

  “Come on,” I said. “At least it’s better than sitting here. Maybe you don’t care about my treasure, but I do. It’s the best treasure I ever made in my life.”

  Goat sighed. “I care about the treasure,” he said, “but I don’t have batteries in my flashlight and my dad will not let me use his without a good reason. Looking for dirt will not be a good reason.”

  “Candles? You got any candles?”

  He shook his head.

  “None?”

  “No big ones.”

  “Little ones? We can use little ones.”

  “Birthday candles, a few birthday candles.
”

  “All right, Pal! Let’s go.”

  I had forgotten how little birthday candles are. I was so used to seeing eight or nine of them burning on top of a cake in a bright, happy room.

  One birthday candle on a dark night is not a lot of light.

  We walked around the yard, bent over, watching the ground. We lit one little colored candle after another. We did not see one sign of freshly dug dirt.

  Goat blew out his last pink candle.

  “This is hopeless,” he said.

  We were standing in the last glow of my yellow candle when Rachel opened her window. “Having fun?” she called.

  I said, “Rachel, can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask.”

  “Did you bury it or did you hide it somewhere?”

  “I buried it.”

  “In this yard?”

  “I’m sorry. I believe I said you could ask one question, not two.”

  She closed her window just as Goat picked up a stick and threw it at her.

  “So where could she have buried it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know—probably somewhere horrible.”

  “Then let’s try to think of the most horrible place she could—” I trailed off. I felt a stab of alarm.

  Goat said, “Have you thought of something?”

  “Yes, but she wouldn’t—”

  “She would too. Where?”

  “I don’t even want to say it.”

  “You have to.”

  “She buried it in the garbage.”

  “Yes,” Goat said with a sigh. “That’s it. The ogre would go for garbage.”

  “I hate to dig down in garbage, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But if it’s the only way we can get the treasure—” I said, trailing off.

  We kept standing there. Finally, Goat said, “What exactly was the treasure?”

  “I don’t want to spoil it.”

  “I just want to know how good it is. I want to know if it would be worth digging in the garbage for.”

  “It is a perfect treasure, Goat.”

  “It better be,” Goat said.

  He began to roll up his sleeves. I blew out my yellow candle and rolled mine up too.

  Together we crossed the yard and went slowly into the garage.