Alvin Fernald's Incredible Buried Treasure

by Clifford B. Hicks

  On his way to the bathroom he passed Daphne in the hall. “I solved the Caleb puzzle,” he said in a low voice.

  “Oh, Alvin!” she exclaimed. “Let’s go find the treasure this minute!”

  “Not so fast,” he said. “As a matter of fact, we can’t find it yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I know how to find the treasure, but I won’t know exactly where it is for another ten days.”

  “What does that mean?” she said. “I thought you said you solved the puzzle.” She tossed her head, flinging her golden hair in a half circle. She beat him into the bathroom, and locked the door.

  Alvin picked up the phone and dialed. He heard a phone ring on the other end.

  “Professor Liam O’Harra’s office.”

  “Is Professor O’Harra there? My name is Alvin Fernald, and I’m calling—”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Fernald. Professor O’Harra said you might call at any time, and that it would be a very important call.”

  “He did?”

  “Oh, yes indeed. I’ll put you right through to him. One moment, please.”

  Ring. Ring.

  “Professor Liam O’Harra here.”

  “Professor O’Harra. This is Alvin. I’ve solved Caleb’s puzzle.”

  “You’ve what?”

  “Solved the puzzle.”

  “Yeeeeeoooowww!”

  “Professor? Are you alright?”

  “I’m not surprised that you solved it. I thought you’d succeed when I gave it to you. When can we start digging?”

  “Not yet, I’m afraid. We have to wait ten days. Until June 10th.”

  “Oh. I see. Yes, you’re absolutely right, Alvin.”

  “I thought you’d understand.”

  “But I’m so excited I’m coming up there to talk with you as soon as possible. Let’s see. It will take me about an hour to wind up a few things here at the office. I should be able to catch a plane early this afternoon to Indianapolis. I’ll rent a car there, and drive to Riverton. I should check into the Riverton Oaks Hotel no later than 6:00 PM. Can I see you at your house first thing in the morning?”

  “Sure. How about 9:00 o’clock?”

  “Fine. Oh, and Alvin—”

  “Yes, professor?”

  “Let’s not talk to anybody else about this.”

  “Righto. Gotcha!”

  Chapter 20

  The professor’s rental car pulled up to the curb in front of the house promptly at 9:00 AM. He stepped out, slammed the car door, twirled his walking stick, adjusted his cap, and walked up the front steps. Mrs. Fernald was there to greet him. As usual she knew just about everything that happened around the house, and everything that was about to happen.

  “Good morning, Professor. Come right in.”

  “Ah. Mrs. Fernald. Inventor of those delicious Thingers.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t invent them. I just make them. Go right on up to Alvin’s room. All three kids are waiting for you up there.”

  The professor sat down in the chair at one end of the Inventing Bench. “I’m as curious as a cat, Alvin. Tell us what you’ve discovered, and how you discovered it.”

  “Well. Well,” said Alvin. His eyes developed a blank look, as they always did when his Magnificent Brain was expounding a theory. “That word ‘cemetery’ stuck out at me, as it probably did to you. Yet we all know, from our personal search, that Caleb didn’t mean the Riverton Cemetery. I attacked the puzzle first through that word. It led me to the line in the poem that reads ‘The cemetery it is called.’ When you think about it, that line means that it isn’t really a cemetery, but is called a cemetery. So we’re looking for something that reminds you of a cemetery, but isn’t a cemetery.”

  “What is that something?” asked the Pest.

  “That’s what I asked myself. And in the middle of the night, I got an answer.” He rose, walked across the room, and sat down on the bed next to Shoie. “Shoie, do you remember our special activity at school last fall? We rode out on the activity bus, a few miles beyond the edge of town. Mr. Bellamy, who teaches geology at the Riverton Community College, came along as our instructor.”

  “Sure I remember, Old Bean. We went out to that place with all the big boulders.”

  “Right. They were strewn around and looked like a batch of headstones. Mr. Bellamy said the early settlers had discovered the place, and called it ‘the cemetery.’ ”

  “Where’d the boulders come from?” asked the Pest.

  “Mr. Bellamy said that during the last ice age, many thousands of years ago, the glaciers crawled south to this part of what is now Indiana, scraping soil and boulders and trees with them. When the ice cap got this far south, it melted and deposited everything it had scraped. The boulders have been here ever since.”

  “Interesting,” said the professor. “I’m sure you’re right! That’s the cemetery we’ve been seeking. Let’s go out there right now and find The Needle.”

  “Can you ride a bicycle?” asked Alvin.

  “Why?”

  “Because of the boulders, there’s no way to get a car into that area. When we went as a school class, the driver parked the bus a couple of miles from the center of the cemetery.”

  “Well, I rode a bicycle when I was a kid.”

  “You never forget how to ride a bike,” offered Shoie.

  “Where’s the bicycle?”

  “In the garage. It’s one that Daphne outgrew.”

  The professor swallowed, and managed to mumble, “Ohhhh.”

  He had a little trouble balancing as he took off, and wobbled all the way to Maple Street, but he soon settled into a rhythm. He was a small man, so as he pedaled his knees rose alternately above the handlebars.

  Alvin led the way through town and onto a gravel road out the other side. A couple of miles beyond the city limits the kids began to see boulders scattered across the farm fields. Alvin stopped in a cluster of shade trees. To his right, many boulders were scattered across a small hill.

  “We leave our bikes here,” he announced. “Scatter out, and look for any boulder that might be called The Needle.”

  The Professor was puffing heavily as he dismounted. Sweat rolled down his face. Alvin was worried about him, and asked if he’d like to rest a while before beginning the search.

  “No. I’m alright. Anxious to find the treasure.”

  They searched in vain for at least thirty minutes. Alvin was beginning to doubt his theory when suddenly the Pest shouted, “I found it! It’s over here!”

  They all moved toward the sound of her voice. She was sitting triumphantly on a large off-white boulder. It stuck out of the ground at a crazy angle. The base was wide and thick, but it quickly grew narrower and thinner as it rose to a point. Most revealing of all, near that upper point, almost hidden by Daphne’s legs, was a hole all the way through the stone.

  Daphne jumped gracefully off the boulder.

  “The eye of the needle,” declared Alvin, putting his arm through the hole. “Good work, Pest.”

  “Where do we dig?” asked Shoie. “Around the base of the boulder? I’ll ride back and get a shovel.”

  “We can’t dig until June 10th. Remember? Those were Caleb’s instructions.”

  “But why can’t we dig until then?”

  Alvin withdrew his arm from the eye of The Needle. “Sit down,” he said. “Rest. I’ll explain everything that Caleb wrote.”

  The others found places around the boulder.

  “Take a look at The Needle’s shadow,” instructed Alvin.

  A dark shadow, uninterrupted by any light, was cast across the scrawny grass.

  “Where’s the eye of the needle?” he asked. “Shouldn’t there be a light spot in the shadow?”

  “Later in the day,” offered the professor. “When the sun sinks lower in the west, it will shine through the hole in the boulder, and there will be a spot of bright light in the shadow.”

  “Exactly,” said Alvin. “At, say, 4:45, the spo
t will appear.” He paused. “The earth not only rotates daily on its axis, but it slowly moves around the sun, completing one orbit each year. So, in a single year, the sun never shines on the boulder from exactly the same spot. Caleb cleverly noted, not only the day he buried the treasure, but the time of day, so we could duplicate what he had done. If we come here on June 10 at 4:45 PM, and mark the spot where the sunlit eye strikes the earth, we’ll find the treasure.”

  “You mean etesian,” said the Pest.

  “I mean what?”

  “Etesian. That’s e-t-e-s-i-a-n. Etesian. It means that it occurs annually. Isn’t that what you’re trying to say, Alvin?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say. No digging until June 10th, and then only at 4:45 in the afternoon.”

  “But that’s nine days away,” objected Shoie.

  “I know it is. But we’ll just have to be patient.”

  “Logic tells me you’re right, Alvin,” said the professor. “There’s nothing more we can do until June 10th. I’ll return to Riverton on the 9th. Until then, let’s all keep our mouths shut.”

  “Rats!” said Shoie. “I thought we’d have some excitement today.”

  “Maybe we will,” said the professor. “Maybe Alvin and Daphne’s mother will have made some Thingers by the time we bicycle back to the house.” His look of anticipation changed to a shudder of distaste as he thought of that ride on Daphne’s bike.

  Chapter 21

  When he went to bed on June 9th, Alvin was so excited he couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow they would find the treasure! At the same time, an ominous thought crept into his mind. What if tomorrow brought a rainy day? They’d have to wait a full year for another chance. He finally fell asleep.

  At daybreak he was awake and glancing out the window. His heart sank when he saw that the sky was indeed overcast.

  By midmorning, though, the sun was shining through in spots, and by noon, when Professor O’Harra arrived, the sun was shining brightly, with no hint of cloud cover.

  Mom had invited the professor to lunch, along with Shoie. Everyone was too excited to eat much. After lunch, they went to the garage, found a shovel, a spade, and a pickaxe, and tossed them in the trunk of the rental car, which they planned to drive to the treasure site even though they’d have to park some distance from The Needle.

  Of course they were much too early. They spent some time examining the rest of “the cemetery.” Then they stretched out at the base of The Needle. Alvin frequently checked his watch, but the minutes seemed to crawl by. At 2:30 they got into a deep discussion of how worms dig holes, and whether dogs can talk to each other. Finally they all sank into silence again.

  The silence was broken at 2:48, when Daphne sprang to her feet and shouted, “Daylight Saving Time!”

  “What about it?” asked Shoie.

  “Don’t you see?” she said in agitation. “Today we are on Daylight Saving Time, but Caleb wasn’t! I’ll bet Daylight Saving Time hadn’t even been invented when he buried the treasure all those years ago.”

  Alvin sat up, suddenly alert. “Hey, Pest! You’ve got something there! We’re an hour off Caleb’s time! I wonder whether we’re an hour early, or an hour late.”

  Shoie piped up, “The old saying is ‘Spring forward; fall back.’ “

  Alvin consulted his watch. “That means it’s only two o’clock, Caleb’s time. Rats, oh rats! You just added an hour to our wait, Pest. But it’s a good thing you did, or we wouldn’t have found the treasure. Mighty good work!”

  She beamed at the compliment. Not often did he say nice things to her, or about her.

  So again they waited and waited. This time they talked at length about whether mosquitoes go to heaven, and what makes tadpoles change into frogs.

  At 4:30 Caleb’s time, Alvin finally got to his feet and stretched his arms. He gazed at the bright spot on the ground made by the sunlight passing through the eye of The Needle. “I’ll bet it’s mighty close to where it’ll be at 4:45,” he said. “Still, we hadn’t better take a chance. We’ll wait, until the time is up.”

  At 4:44 he began a countdown, backwards from 60. They all were on their feet, and Shoie had a shovel in his hands. At the count of “one” he carefully used the shovel to mark the reflection of the eye in the grass, then proceeded to dig.

  Progress was slow. At first they hit a bed of gravel that had been deposited with the boulders. Alvin would loosen a layer of gravel with the pickaxe, then Shoie would excavate it. The professor and Daphne took their turns, but they were not very adept excavators.

  5:15, Caleb’s time: The hole now is about one foot deep, and Shoie’s hands are beginning to blister.

  5:45, Caleb’s time: The hole is at least two feet deep, and they have hit black loam, which is much easier to penetrate than the gravel.

  5:49, Caleb’s time: The tip of Shoie’s shovel strikes something that gives off a dull thud. They glance at each other. No one says a word. Shoie carefully removes more dirt. The outline of what appears to be a piece of metal appears. Alvin leans down into the hole, and takes out the dirt by the handful. Finally he grasps something with both hands, and hauls it to the surface.

  It is a metal box, intact except for one rusted corner.

  Professor O’Hara breaks the silence. “Hasn’t seen the light of day since just after the Civil War.”

  They have found the treasure!

  With their hands they quickly brush the dirt off the box.

  “Hurry up!” said the Pest. “Let’s see what’s inside!”

  “Not yet,” instructs the professor. “Remember, this may have immense value. Alvin, is there a safe at police headquarters?”

  “A large one. In the Ready Room.”

  “We’ll open the box there, and inventory its contents in the presence of police officers. Then we’ll put it in the safe, until I can arrange with Bill Bion, my friend at the Library of Congress, to send a messenger with a hermetically sealed carrier to protect the box and its contents. Meanwhile, Daphne, since you found The Needle, and prevented us from making the disastrous Daylight Saving Time error, you may carry the box.”

  “Really? Can I? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Three men were on duty at police headquarters. One was Sergeant Fernald—Alvin and Daphne’s father. The other two were Felix Fromager and Bill Strang, police rookies who had been called in on one or two of Alvin’s antics. They smiled as they nodded at him.

  Sergeant Fernald shook hands with Professor O’Harra. They had met once before during the professor’s first visit to Riverton. At that time the professor had sought an expert on the town and its surroundings, and Sergeant Fernald had recommended Alvin.

  Now, after introductions, all three of the police officers gathered around the countertop that ran down the center of the room.

  The professor spoke in a clipped voice, as though he were teaching a class of students. “We have dug up a very old box. We don’t precisely know the contents, but some of the items may be extremely valuable. Each of you officers has a pencil and paper in front of you. I plan to inventory the items in the box. I would appreciate it if you would list the items as I call them out, then sign your name at the bottom of the sheet, attesting that you saw each of the items. We then will return the items to the box, and lock the box in your police safe. Are you clear as to this procedure?”

  Three heads nodded impatiently. All in attendance were waiting to see what was inside the box.

  Professor O’Harra folded back the latch that held the box closed. There was a faint squeal as he swung back the lid. The items inside the box were covered with rust and mold, but all were intact. He gave a name to each one as he carefully removed it and placed it on the countertop.

  “A mass of fluff. It is, I believe, what is left of an owl’s tail feathers.

  “An Indianhead penny, dated 1858, bearing the dust from a path around the White House.

  “A photograph of Abraham Lincoln seated in an armchair. A small black boy
is standing beside him. They are gazing at each other with trusting smiles.

  “Two brass buttons from a Civil War battle cap.

  “A red-colored checkers piece.

  “Two letter C’s from a set of printing type. Perhaps they stand for ‘Caleb.’

  “A small cylindrical bottle that once held five pain tablets, prescribed by a doctor named Shuck.”

  He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. Then, gingerly, he brought forth a small packet. It was off-white in color, though black mold had crept across its surface. “This, friends, is the bladder of a pig, specially prepared, in accordance with the instructions of President Abraham Lincoln, to protect the contents from moisture and mildew. Without looking, I predict that we’ll find two documents inside. Each end of the bladder is tightly tied with a leather thong. Please note that I am forced to cut one of the thongs in order to get at the contents.”

  Professor O’Harra produced a small knife from his pocket, and with the greatest of care cut the thong. Ever so carefully he reached inside the bladder, and slowly removed two small cylinders of rolled-up paper. He held one up so everyone could see. Alvin made out the words, written in black ink, “The bearer, Caleb Getme by n—”

  The professor resumed, “This first document declares that the bearer, Caleb Getme by name, is a freed man, entitled to all the privileges of any other citizen of the United States.”

  He returned the paper cylinder to the pig bladder, and took out the remaining document, and held it up for examination. Alvin, who was standing next to the professor, could make out the words “of the people, by the people, and for—”

  Not a muscle stirred.

  “Mr. Lincoln’s own copy of the Gettysburg Address.”

  Alvin felt a chill race across his entire body. He felt the presence of someone else in the room. He knew who it was without looking. A small black boy with enormous eyes must be standing beside him.

  Chapter 22

  Six months later:

  RRRING!

  “Hello. Fernald residence.”

  “Oh, hello Mrs. Fernald. Professor O’Harra here.”