“I don’t know. I’ll go and see him, Maybe I can pound some sense into his head. I’ll try to reason with him,” said Miss Eells.
“You can’t!” Anthony wailed. “He’s gone up to Minneapolis on the train!”
Outside the windows of the library something ominous was happening. The river was rising. All the snow that had fallen during the winter was melting now. And it had been raining for a solid two weeks, almost without a letup. The river looked swollen, and a lot of the low-lying areas outside the town had already been flooded. Men were laying sandbags on the levees, the high earthen banks that had been built at various points along the river side of the town. Still, nobody thought that a flood was coming. The sandbags were simply there “in case.” But there was no danger. No need to worry—or so most people said.
If there is anything worse than having something bad happen, it is waiting for something bad to happen. Anthony was in a constant state of torment now. Whenever he was at home and the phone rang, he jumped. At the dinner table, he glanced furtively at his mother, wondering if she suspected anything. If she did, she gave no sign. Mr. Monday was very cheerful. He whistled and hummed and sang when he was around the house and talked about how good business was. All this light- heartedness just made Anthony feel worse. He couldn’t help imagining how his dad would feel when he found out that his store was being sold out from under him.
If only he hadn’t gone poking around finding notes, Anthony thought. If only he hadn’t pestered Miss Eells into bidding on that old mirror. If only he hadn’t had all these silly ideas of getting rich quick.
Wednesday passed. Thursday morning dawned. Time was hurtling on, speeding on, seconds and minutes whipping past. When Anthony showed up for work at the library on Thursday, he had one faint hope left. Maybe somewhere, hidden in the library, there was a clue to the real treasure. Anthony knew he was grasping at straws, but as soon as he had checked in with Miss Eells, he went straight to the upstairs reading room and started taking books down. All books in this room were books that Alpheus Winterborn had owned. Maybe inside one of them would be a clue of some kind. One after another, Anthony opened books, leafed through them in great haste, and then shut them. Open, look, slam, open, look, slam, over and over and over and over. Clouds of dust rose, and Anthony started sneezing. Sweat was pouring down his face. Still he went on. As he leafed through the books, he noticed that all of them had bookplates. Alpheus Winterborn’s personal bookplate was interesting: It showed a clown in a clown suit that was divided right down the middle. Half was red and half was black. Even the big puffy pompons that served as buttons for the suit were divided this way. Under the figure of the clown was a scroll, and—not surprisingly—these words were on it: BELIEVE ONLY HALF OF WHAT YOU READ. It was the same motto that was on that silly half-moon where Anthony had found the message. And it was the same one that was on the stone carving over the front door of the library. It was a crazy motto. What the heck did it mean, anyway? Anthony imagined somebody reading only half of every book that came into his hands, or half of every page, or half of every poem...
Anthony paused. He was standing on the stepladder with one of Alpheus Winterborn’s books open in his hand. There was a curious look on his face. He had almost had a thought, but it had gotten away from him. There’s nothing more maddening than having some idea almost form itself in your mind and then zip away while you’re trying to get hold of it. It’s like almost remembering somebody’s name, or almost remembering something very important that you’re supposed to do. Anthony stood there chewing his lip and trying to remember. What was it that had popped into his mind and then popped right out again? He thought and thought, but whatever it was, he couldn’t bring it back.
Finally, he gave up. He looked at his blackened hands and the pile of books on the stepladder in front of him, and he decided that he’d been wasting his time. There were no clues there.
But what was it that had been in the back of his mind? It had something to do with Alpheus Winterborn’s motto, but what? Oh, well. No use. It was really gone now. Gone for good.
It rained all morning, and on into the afternoon. The wind began to blow, and the rain swept past in sheets. It spattered loudly against the windows, and the panes rattled and shook. After lunch, Anthony was in the West Reading Room putting some books on the shelves. Through the wide arch that opened into the center section of the library, Anthony could see Miss Eells sitting at the circulation desk. She had one of the drawers from the card catalog in front of her. The long metal rod that held the cards in place had been pulled out, and the cards lay loose on the desk top in front of her. There was no one in the library but the two of them.
Anthony gazed gratefully for a while at Miss Eells. Miss Eells was a good friend to him. He knew that. Whatever happened now, he was glad she was on his side.
A gust of wind hit the window behind Anthony. The glass rattled violently.
“Gee,” called Anthony. “It’s really blowing out there, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” answered Miss Eells without looking up. “It’s blowing up a storm. There’s a real doozer predicted for tonight. Thunder, lightning—the whole works. And the river’s still rising. It’s up above flood crest. In fact, they say it’d be pouring into the town right now if it weren’t for those men out there laying sandbags.”
Anthony had never been in a flood before, though he had read about them. “What would happen if the water got in past the sandbags?” he asked.
“Lots of things. The river water is polluted, and it would pour into the wells that a lot of people in Hoosac get their water from. That would really mess things up. It would start pouring into the basements, and what with all the mud and silt and stuff, there’d be a filthy mess to clean up afterward. I’ve got some men coming in later this afternoon to move the magazines up from the basement storage room, just in case. Ugh! Can you imagine what it would be like, sorting through a lot of soggy magazines?” Miss Eells made a face. It was a pretty repulsive thought.
“Could anybody get killed?” Anthony asked.
Miss Eells thought a minute. “Probably not. Not in the kind of flood we’re likely to have. Of course, it could happen. But let’s hope that nobody in Hoosac gets himself into that kind of fix.”
Another strong gust hit the window behind Anthony. He turned around and looked out. The bare branches heaved and tossed. They bent under the lash of wind and rain. In the distance, Anthony could see men laying sandbags on top of the stone wall that gave Levee Park its name. Then he happened to glance up at the bronze reindeer that stood at the top of the tower. He blinked and stared again. All this wind, and the reindeer wasn’t moving!
“Hey, Miss Eells, I think the weather vane is stuck!” Anthony called out.
Miss Eells sighed. “Of course it is. Haven’t you ever noticed that before? It doesn’t work. Never has—it’s jammed somehow. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Needs grease, maybe.”
Anthony turned and looked up at the reindeer again. Now, once more, something was stirring in his mind. What was it? He began to wonder if he were losing his marbles. Then he shrugged. Whatever it was, it was gone, like that thought he had almost had in the upstairs reading room.
The library closed at five on Thursday. Miss Eells offered to drive Anthony home because of the bad weather, and he gladly accepted her offer. On the way, Miss Eells turned on her car radio. She had barely flipped the button when, through the crackle of the static, came a voice saying, “... a condition of emergency has been declared for the city of Hoosac and surrounding areas. As a precautionary measure, the lower end of town, from Division Street to Walnut, will be evacuated...”
“Hey, that’s us!” said Anthony excitedly.
“Sshhh! Listen!”
There was another storm of static, and then the voice went on. “... will be able to take refuge at Immaculate Conception Academy on Academy Boulevard. Work is already underway to convert the classrooms there into temporary shelters for those li
ving in the low-lying parts of town. I repeat, there is no need for alarm. This is merely a precautionary measure. I also repeat, it would be inadvisable to attempt to leave the town by way of the bridges and causeways. Many of the low-lying areas around Hoosac are already flooded, and roads are under water in many places. It would be wise to bring up from basements any—”
Miss Eells snapped the radio off. “Wow! It sounds like we’re in for it, eh, Anthony?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I wish the flood would wash old Hugo Philpotts out to sea.”
Miss Eells smiled wryly. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Well, here’s your house. I guess I’ll be seeing you up at the academy tonight. Come to think of it, I’d better follow that guy’s advice and bring some stuff up out of my basement. I’d hate to have all my peach preserves ruined by that filthy river water.”
“G’bye, Miss Eells,” said Anthony as he got out of the car. “See you later.”
It was an exciting night in the town of Hoosac. The National Guard units were called out, and khaki-colored trucks and jeeps rumbled through the streets. The guardsmen were there to direct the people who were being evacuated and to prevent looting. They wore brown uniforms and brown helmets, and they carried rifles with bayonets on the end of them. Sound trucks rolled up and down the streets of Hoosac blaring instructions. Then the electrical storm hit. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, and more rain came pelting down. Police cars roared past Anthony’s house, sirens screaming and blue lights flashing.
Inside the Monday home, things were at sixes and sevens. Everybody was doing something—rushing here, rushing there, unplugging lights, turning off the furnace, checking this, checking that, getting ready for the flood. Mrs. Monday packed some suitcases and made some sandwiches in case there wasn’t anything to eat up at the academy. Mr. Monday went down to the basement and helped Keith and Anthony bring newspapers and jars of pickled fruit up to the kitchen. Mrs. Monday had warned her husband not to work too hard on account of his bad heart, but he pitched in and helped anyway.
About eight o’clock that evening, Anthony was in his room packing his own small suitcase. He felt excited, the way people often do when there is a crisis of some kind—war or hurricane or tornado or flood. Outside, sirens wailed and sound trucks blared. Thunder rolled, and from his window Anthony could see lightning flashing fitfully, lighting up jagged cloud banks for brief seconds. A long line of cars was moving past the house. The red reflections of their taillights stained the streets. On the comer was a police car with a flashing blue light, and Anthony could see a policeman in a yellow slicker waving a flashlight with a red plastic cone on the end of it.
“Anthony, are you getting packed, or are you daydreaming as usual?” his mother called.
“I’m packing, Ma!” Anthony turned away from the window and started throwing clothes into his suitcase. He often daydreamed when he was doing something like drying the dishes or stacking books at the library. It was a habit of his. Now, although he was excited and was supposed to be hurrying, he drifted off again. All sorts of odd images came to his mind. He thought about the stuck weather vane and the reindeer on top of the tower. He thought about that mocking, grinning half-moon on the front of the library, and the sign underneath that said BELIEVE ONLY HALF OF WHAT YOU READ.
All of a sudden, for no reason at all, everything came together in his mind. The things he had been trying to make sense of all day suddenly did make sense. His face lit up. He knew now. As if by magic, he knew. He knew where the real treasure of Alpheus Winterborn was!
CHAPTER 13
Anthony was so excited that he felt as if he were going to jump right out of his skin. He wanted to run up and down the room screaming at the top of his voice, but he was afraid that his folks would think he had lost his mind. So he kept his screams in and stood there, tense, clenching his fists. His face felt flushed, and his ears burned. What should he do? Well, emergency or no emergency, flood or no flood, he had to call up Miss Eells and tell her. He simply had to.
Down the stairs Anthony ran. He picked up the phone and asked for the operator and gave her Miss Eells’s number. Fortunately, Keith and his folks were still busy upstairs packing. They didn’t know that he was downstairs on the phone. Not that it would have made any difference to Anthony at this point—he would have called Miss Eells even if the whole town had been standing around listening.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Miss Eells! Boy, am I glad to hear your voice!” he fairly shouted. “It’s me, Anthony!”
There were a lot of crackling sounds on the telephone line, like those lightning sometimes causes. For a moment Anthony thought he heard another voice, but then Miss Eells shouted into his ear, “Good grief, Anthony! What’s the matter? What’s happened?”
In a breathless voice, Anthony told Miss Eells where he thought the treasure was, and he explained how he had figured it all out
“Good heavens! Well, you know you may be onto something! I won’t guarantee it because there has already been a false lead in this treasure hunt, as you very well know. But I must say, it’s a very ingenious guess. Congratulations!”
“What do you think, Miss Eells? Do you think we should go down and get it out now? Huh?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s been there for quite a few years now, and it can stay there a little longer. If it’s there. I would suggest that we wait till this ridiculous flood crisis is over with.”
“Are you sure? You don’t think somebody else might grab it before we do?”
“Not a chance. Nobody else besides us is looking for the treasure except Hugo Philpotts, and he thinks it was in that stupid mirror. Look, Anthony, I’d love to go on chatting, but I’ve got to go pack and do some other things before I leave. I’ll see you up at the academy.”
“Okay, Miss Eells. Hey! I just had a great idea!”
“You seem to be full of them this evening. What is it?”
“Why don’t you bring your chess set and meet me somewhere so we can play a game while we’re waiting to see if there’s going to be a flood or not? How about it, huh?”
“Hmm—sounds like a good plan to me. Why not? Okay, I’ll pack my set, and—tell you what, I’ll meet you at the main entrance of the classroom building of the academy. Where the pillars are. Do you know where I mean?”
Anthony thought a minute. “Yeah, I guess I do. All right, Miss Eells, I’ll meet you there by the pillars. When do you think you’ll get there?”
“No telling exactly. I have to finish up a few things here first. I’ll see you when I see you, as my father used to say. So long now, and keep dry.”
“G’bye, Miss Eells.”
Anthony hung up the phone. He stood there a moment thinking about the treasure. He had half a mind to ignore Miss Eells’s advice and run down right away and dig the treasure out. But at this point, Anthony’s mother came charging down the stairs with a suitcase in her hand.
“Anthony Monday! What on earth are you doing standing there with that foolish look on your face? Is your bag packed?”
“Uh huh. I’m all ready to go, Mom.”
“Well, you don’t look like it. Haven’t you got any sense, Anthony? Go get your bag and take it to the car! Hurry up! Get a move on, for heaven’s sake!”
“Okay, Mom.” Anthony dashed up the stairs and got his bag. A few minutes later he was in the back seat of the car with Keith. His mom was in front, and his dad was driving. They pulled out of the driveway and joined the long line of cars that was creeping slowly through the streets in the pouring rain. As they drove, Anthony saw soldiers standing on the sidewalks. They were using walkie-talkies. At one corner he saw a jeep pulled up on a lawn. Two helmeted guardsmen sat in it, watching the long procession of cars crawl past. Rain beat on the roof of the car. The Mondays moved on at a snail’s pace, staying just a few feet behind the car in front of them. Anthony saw a long double row of taillights ahead of him. It was crawling slowly up the hill, heading for the high ground, for the
academy.
Immaculate Conception Academy was a Catholic girls’ school. The girls had already been sent home for their Easter vacation. Now nuns and volunteer workers were busy making beds and hanging up sheets to divide the bigger rooms up into smaller ones so that people could sleep and have a little privacy. But everybody hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary for the people from the lower part of town to spend the night there. With luck, the walls of sandbags would hold, and the refugees would be able to go back to their homes before morning. But the river was still rising, and rain was coming down in buckets. No one really knew what was going to happen.
Around nine o’clock in the evening, the Mondays’ car pulled into a parking lot out behind the main classroom building of the academy. A policeman stood nearby, waving the traffic on. He wore a wet black slicker with a white stripe across it, and he was waving a flashlight. Rain dripped from the peak of his cap. Mr. Monday nosed the car into a parking place. With their baggage, the Mondays trotted up the walk to the back entrance of the main classroom building. Inside was a policeman with a bullhorn who told them to go up to the third floor. The marble stairs were wet and slippery because men in galoshes had been marching up and down them. The Mondays walked down a long, dark corridor and stopped outside a lighted room. Inside, mattresses had been laid out on the floor. A coffee urn steamed in one corner, and there was a steel cart loaded with sandwiches and other goodies. A nun in a long black habit was there to meet them.
“Hello. I’m Sister Louisa. This is where you’ll be staying. And your name is... ?”
“Monday,” said Anthony’s dad. “I’m Howard Monday, and this is my wife, and these are my sons, Keith and Anthony. It’s real nice of you folks to set things up this way.”
The nun smiled. “Thank you. We hope you will be able to return to your home before long, but if not, this place is yours to stay in as long as you like. Make yourself comfortable.”
The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn Page 10