Myth and I spent two sun-soaked days in that glade. I could not have been happier. Two days with Myth, laughing and talking together…
Now that’s how you search for buried treasure, Buster. Gold and jewels may be valuable, but they lose their luster eventually. Spending time with someone you care about, however—that’s priceless...
But we could not dawdle forever. Black Bart’s second clue was waiting for us to find it. So we packed up our supplies and returned to Braddock’s Statue.
A horrific scene greeted us when we arrived there.
Two shovels—now bent and broken bits of rubbish—lay abandoned upon the ground. The cruel abuse they had endured was mercifully at an end. They were ex-shovels now and would never dig again.
Bard and Bumble looked as poorly as their shovels did.
Bard was sitting with his back against the base of Braddock’s Statue. He stared into the distance, seemingly at nothing. All the while, his right leg twitched continuously.
Bumble lay not far away, curled into the fetal position. He was groaning and panting simultaneously, which reminded me of a heifer in labor.
And what had their sufferings accomplished? Nothing, except for some scratch marks etched into the rock. Boyle’s Mountain had utterly defeated them.
Myth walked over to them and placed her hands on her hips. “Had enough yet, boys?”
“Argh! Urgh!” replied Bumble.
Bard did not respond, but he did manage to blow a bubble of spittle out of his mouth. The bubble clung to his lower lip for a moment before it burst, peppering Bard’s chin with spittle shrapnel.
“Yeah, they’ve had enough,” said Myth. “It looks like it’s our turn, Iz.”
“Okay,” I replied, rubbing my hands together eagerly. “I’ve been dying to hear where you think the clue is hidden. So tell me! The anticipation is unbearable.”
“Excited much, Izzy?” said Myth. “Please, don’t start bouncing up and down. I know how you like to bounce up and down when you’re excited. But up here, you might just bounce off the edge of the mountain.”
“Quit teasing me,” I said, bouncing up and down. Then I slapped her arm. “You’re always teasing me.”
“You like it,” replied Myth, grinning.
“Yes, I do,” I admitted. “But not right now. The suspense is going to cause my head to explode. And that would upset you, Missy.” I pointed my finger at her face. “Don’t say that it wouldn’t.”
“You’re right,” said Myth, chuckling. “I certainly don’t want your head to explode.”
“Then tell me already!”
“Think about the message Bard showed us,” said Myth as she set her pack upon the ground. “What did it say about the next clue?”
“It said the second clue is buried beneath Braddock’s Statue,” I replied, setting my knapsack beside her pack.
“Nuh-uh,” said Myth. She patted the statue. “Bard and Bumble just assumed it was buried under Ol’ Braddock here. But Black Bart wrote that the clue is hidden beneath Braddock’s Statue. That doesn’t mean it’s buried under the statue.”
“What else could it mean?” I asked her, shrugging my shoulders.
“I already told you,” replied Myth.
I folded my arms across my tummy. “No, you haven’t. Stop teasing me.”
Myth nodded her head. “Sure, I did—two days ago, when we first visited Ol’ Braddock. But you didn’t pick up on it.”
I reflected on our first visit to the statue, focusing upon everything that Myth had said and done. That was not difficult, because I always paid close attention to Myth…
Why did you just mutter, “Obviously,” Buster? Are you implying that I paid too much attention to Myth? Oh, that would be a big mistake. You cannot imagine the slapping I would give you for suggesting that.
Anyway…
I remembered that Myth had cleaned the plaque on Braddock’s Statue when we first arrived. Then she had walked over to the edge of the mountain and looked down…
“The ledge!” I exclaimed.
“Good job,” said Myth. “It’s beneath Braddock’s Statue, isn’t it? And you may remember that I said reaching it wouldn’t be too difficult. So…”
Myth walked over to my knapsack. “Mind if I borrow your satchel, Iz?”
“Of course not,” I replied, although I did not understand why Myth needed my satchel...
Oh, I kept my writing supplies in a satchel, separate from my other belongings. That way, my sheets of parchment did not become ripped or crinkled as we traveled. Sorry, Buster, I should have mentioned that earlier. Determining which details you need to know is not easy…
“Thanks,” said Myth, taking the satchel out of my knapsack. Then she removed my writing supplies from the satchel and set them to the side.
Standing up, she placed the satchel’s strap around her body. It hugged her right shoulder and crossed her torso, letting the satchel itself dangle at her left waist.
Walking over to the edge of Boyle’s Mountain, Myth looked down.
“Wait a second,” I said, realizing what Myth intended to do. “Please, don’t tell me that you are going to climb down to the ledge.”
“Of course, I am,” replied Myth.
“Myth, no!” I said, stomping my foot. “It’s too dangerous.”
Myth came over to me and rubbed my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Izzy. I spent most of my girlhood climbing things—trees, buildings, walls, even a windmill once. I never understood why most girls wanted to play with dolls when there were so many things to climb. So this”—she pointed towards the edge—“is nothing.”
I sighed. Grabbing Myth’s hand, I gave it a quick squeeze. “Just be careful. Please.”
“I will, Iz,” replied Myth. “I promise.”
Myth walked back over to the edge. She studied the mountainside for quite a while, planning her descent. For once, I was happy that she always hesitated before she leaped.
“Here I go,” said Myth.” She sat down at the edge and turned around so that she could begin her descent.
I could not watch. Clasping my hands over my mouth, I turned and stared at Braddock’s Statue as my toes wiggled anxiously in my boots.
Bard and Bumble were beginning to stir, groaning and flailing about as they struggled to rise off the ground.
But I paid them no heed. My mind was too busy envisioning all the terrible things that could happen to Myth. She could miss a step and plummet to her death. Or she could grab hold of a chunk of rock only to have it crumble, causing her to plummet to her death. Each vision ended with Myth plummeting to her death.
I whimpered. Oh! The suspense was intolerable.
After what seemed like an insufferably long time, I heard Myth’s voice: “Okay, I’ve reached the ledge. Now, let’s see if that clue is down here.”
Time ticked away as I waited to hear Myth’s voice again. I dared not go near the edge in order to watch her. Seeing Myth plummet to her death would have been the end of me. So I kept my eyes fixed on Ol’ Braddock, hoping that Myth would find that dratted clue soon.
“Found it!” she called out.
“Well done, Myth,” I cried out. “Now stop messing around and get back up here where it’s safe.”
Myth laughed and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”
Then I had to endure another unbearable period of waiting as Myth climbed back up. I swear I memorized every detail of that statue as I fretted about her.
At last, I heard Myth say the most wonderful thing: “Okay, I made it. Um, Izzy, it’s safe to look now.”
I turned towards her. Myth was standing at the edge of the mountain, catching her breath. Rushing over to her, I literally pulled Myth away from the precipice. Then I rubbed her arms and shoulders, making certain that she was not injured.
“I’m fine, Izzy,” said Myth, chuckling. “You can stop fussing over me.”
“Yes. Yes,” said Bumble, his voice hoarse. He stumbled over to us and stared at Myth as if he were starving and she were a pig roasting on a spit. “The clue, where is it?”
Myth reached into my satchel and pulled out a small, weather-beaten, wooden keepsake box. “I’ve already opened it. You know—to make sure that this is what we’re after. But I didn’t examine the, um… article inside of it.” Holding the box towards me, she said, “You do the honors, Izzy.”
With Myth still holding the box, I opened it. Inside was a small scroll of parchment.
Bard managed to stagger over to us. A stream of spittle was drizzling out of his mouth and down his chin as he watched me.
Gingerly, I picked up the scroll and unrolled it—there was a message written upon the parchment!
Clearing my throat, I read the message aloud in my best pirate voice:
“Yargh—”
“Again with yargh,” muttered Myth.
I restarted from the beginning of the message:
“Yargh! Congratulations, me hearty. Ye have found the clue that I, Black Bart, left for ye. But yer quest for me bountiful booty is not over yet. Yar-har-har—”
“Yar-har-har?” said Myth.
I pointed at the parchment. “See, yar-har-har.”
“Alrighty, then,” said Myth. “Please go on.”
Finding where I had left off, I continued:
“Yar-har-har! Now off with ye to the City Proper. Me next clue be hidden inside the Treasury. Yargh!”
“Well done, fair damsel,” said Bard, laying his hand on Myth’s shoulder.
Myth moved a step away from him, causing Bard to lose his balance and fall onto the ground.
“Yes,” said Bard as he picked himself up. “Well done, partners. That’s what I call teamwork.”
“Oh, so we’re partners again,” said Myth. “Didn’t you say that you wouldn’t share the treasure with Izzy and me?”
“That was a jest,” said Bard, laughing, “merely a jest and nothing more.”
“Uh-huh,” replied Myth.
“Enough about who fired whom,” said Bumble. Turning to Myth, he said, “Babe, you and the Frigid One are back on the team. You can thank Bumble later.”
I took a step towards Bumble, ready to slap him so hard. But Myth held out her arm, blocking my path to that disgusting pixie.
“Easy, Iz,” Myth told me. “He’s not worth it.”
Glaring at Bumble, I said, “You’re right, Myth. But slapping him would make me feel better.”
“Foreplay!” cried Bumble. “I love it! The Frigid One is warming up to Bumble. But later, Doll. Right now, we have a treasury heist to plan.”
Bard and Bumble began to stagger down the mountain.
Myth and I picked up our packs and followed them.
“Well, we’re off to the City Proper,” said Myth. “Perhaps we’ll be going to the Beet Festival, after all.”