Little Treasures

"...I never wanna hear you say....I want it that way!"

This would have been okay if it had been coming from the SUV's radio, but it was not. The radio wasn't even on. The song was coming from Paul and his little friend Serina, sitting in the back of the vehicle with Tif.

"Sing louder!"

"You sing louder!"

"You do too much!"

"You do too much!"

We were halfway to Lancaster County, and this had been about typical for the trip.

I turned in my seat, hoping to forestall further performances. "So we'll be at the camp pretty soon, you two. We'll check in at the cabin, and you guys can go play in the pool a while. I got some stuff to do later, if you like."

"There's ghosts, right?" Paul asked.

"That's right. In one book, I found a legend of the ghost of an old farmer, who rides around on a glowing tractor. That's real near the camp, so we can walk around and take a look. We'll be in Columbia again visiting the Turkey Hill Experience, so we can make a stop and look for the Albatwitch. And there's a buried treasure down in Lancaster County, too."

"Yay!" said Serina. "Buried treasure!"

"Back in the 1700s, robbers used to steal from people traveling in the area. They hid the loot, and many of them never went back for it."

"Like pirate treasure!" Serina said. "X marks the spot!"

"Well, this should be pretty well hidden, and it's said to be guarded by a Native American ghost. But yes. We can go looking for that, if we like."

"Okay," said Paul. "But first the pool."

"We'll have plenty of time; you can swim in the pool. But when you feel like investigating, I brought some of my equipment."

"How long until we get there?" asked Paul.

I glanced at my watch. "About another hour."

"You are....My fire...My one....Desire...."

The cabin was a small, one-room thing with a couple of bunk beds. We'd brought a lawn chair for Tif, who decided she wanted to sleep outside on the porch. When I'm traveling, I make an effort to remain somewhat organized, so that most of my stuff is already packed at any given time. By contrast, the kids had their clothes scattered on the floor within moments of entering the cabin.

By nightfall, they'd already spent a couple of hours in the pool. Both of them were sitting on their bunks, and I figured I'd go out exploring. I pulled my paranormal bag out from under my bunk, and got out my vest. It was a travel model---Soft, a cryptozoology vest, but that was okay. I pulled it on over my "Paranormal Investigator" shirt, and Serina immediately looked up.

"You're not going out ghost-hunting without us?"

I should have known I'd never get away with that. "You want to come? Get your uniforms on."

Both of them immediately scrabbled for their T-shirts. Paul had an LHPS uniform like I did, but when the neighborhood kids had begun asking for paranormal lessons, I'd had some customized shirts made. Paul's was pink, and Serina's was black. Both had their names, and a logo that said "Ghost Gang."

We left the cabin, and headed into the main camping area. These Yogi Bear camps were heavy on the kid-friendly fun, and we were essentially on the outskirts, in a nice little forested spot. Not far up the road were the bathrooms, and then the big playground. In the dark, we walked to the other end, where the camp ran up against farmland.

There was a fence separating the camp parking lot from the cornfield, but it was a halfhearted effort at best, and we were past it in no time. I said,"This field is where the ghost farmer was sighted. According to one of the books I found, a policeman saw him riding on a glowing tractor, and you could see him shining from miles off."

"I don't see any glowing," commented Paul.

"Me either, yet."

Serina shook her head. "This ghost do too much."

I got out my all-in-one EMF detector. The temperature was holding consistently at sixty-eight, and I wasn't getting so much as a flicker on the EMF. Corn isn't electric. I walked around the edge of the field a while, but nothing came up.

"Looks like the farmer ghost isn't out tonight, guys," I said. "Let's get back to the cabin. You got a big day tomorrow. Time for bed."

The Turkey Hill Ice Cream Museum is basically a huge advertisement for the brand, but well worth seeing. We'd been there before, but it was worth another stop, especially since Serina and Tif hadn't seen it. The kids were running around the second floor, playing on the slide in the big pasteurizing tank, and I was learning that it was somehow five times harder to supervise two kids than one kid. Mathematically that shouldn't happen, but somehow it does.

"I want to go back for another free ice cream sample," said Paul. "Mint chocolate chip this time."

"I'll go, too," said Serina, and off they went to stand in line.

I went and got a sample of raspberry iced tea from the sample bar. (See, I can do product placement, too.) I found Tif in the fake freezer, exploring the place.

"Having fun sleeping outside?" I asked.

"It's peaceful," she said. "I heard coyotes last night. And some kind of owl, I think, but it didn't make the typical noise."

"Screech owl, maybe. Did you fall last night?"

"Nope. I got up, but didn't fall."

"I heard something make a really loud thumping noise outside. I thought it might have been you, but when I looked out the window, you were asleep. I can't figure out what was thudding like that."

"Bigfoot, maybe."

"He has been known to pound on things."

"What's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"On the way home, we'll stop and look for the Albatwitch. Then it's back to the camp, let the kids splash in the pool all day."

"That Albatwitch. Isn't that a mini-Bigfoot?"

"It is. They steal apples from orchards. The name comes from the German, meaning Apple witch."
"Oh, I like that."

"We took a shot once before, but it was during the Albatwitch Festival. It's never going to appear with thousands of people around. We'll try today, while it's quieter. And it's under an overpass---You know cryptids love overpasses. They can't get enough of them."

"Why is that?"

"They look blurrier from up there."

With Paul and Serina behind me, I hiked into the forest. As we climbed down to the creek, Serina knelt down on a rock. "What kind of shell is this?"

I glanced at it. "That's a mussel shell. Kind of like a clam."

"There's a bunch of them. Can we each keep one?"

"Sure, no reason why not. Something's been eating them---Some animal caught these in the Susquehanna, and ate them up here."
"The Albatwitch?" Paul asked.

"Could be just raccoons, but you never know. Mostly the Albatwitch eats apples, though."

"The Albatwitch do too much."

We crossed the creek, and we were in a grassy field near the Susquehanna River. I could see the Columbia Bridge towering overhead.

"This forest is where the Albatwitch is often sighted," I said. "We'll check around."

"I'll look this way," said Paul.

"Be careful. Stay away from the edge of the river."

Serina followed me down to the path. I said,"This is where we tried last time. We baited it with an apple, but the Albatwitch didn't take the bait that time."

"How do you know where to look?"

"When you want to catch a cryptid, you have to look near water. Every living thing needs water to survive. So in this area, it pays to stick near the forest close to the Susquehanna."

I love the Susquehanna River. It covers like a third of the state. Wherever I go on an adventure, the Susquehanna tends to be somewhere around. This was a wider area of the Susquehanna than I got to see in Lock Haven, but still the same river as home, and there was something comforting about that.

We looped around, and met Paul on the edge of the field. He said,"Something was shaking the trees over there. I watched it for a while."

"Nice work," I said. "You guys ready to go?"

"Got your towels? Water?"

I left the cabin with the kids, and we started walking toward the pool. These Yogi Bear camps look big, but they have everything within a reasonable walking distance. It's a five minute walk over to the pool, the kids' favorite bit.

Serina and Paul went running ahead as we walked. Behind me, a couple of kids were riding bikes, and I turned as one of them hit the corner wrong, skidded, and landed in the gravel. He scraped his knee and began to cry.

I ran over. "Hey, buddy. Here, can you stand up? Let me help."

The other kids gathered around as I helped him stand up. His knee had a minor scrape and was bleeding. I said,"Not too bad. We can take care of that. Are your parents around?"

One of the other kids pointed. "They're right at the camp up there."

"Okay. This'll get you there to show them, and they can put a band-aid on." I dug in my pack for some spray Neosporin. "This will clean it up, and it won't hurt at all. Might be a little cold." I gave him a squirt. "There. Should be okay."

"Thanks!" said a little girl.

I smiled. "No problem."

The kids raced to the pool as I sat down at the table by Michelle. She said,"Kids doing okay?"
"Yeah, they can't wait to get at the water. We got like fifteen towels hanging on the porch railing drying out. We have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"There's a build-a-bear thing in a while, I thought the kids might want to go to that. A dance party and then a movie tonight. You have anything you want to do?"

I shrugged. "Might take a look around for that buried treasure. I know roughly where to look; I been staring at old Lancaster County maps for weeks. There were thieves who used to hide the loot, which means it needs to be near a roadway. Someplace accessible---They meant to go back for it later. Probably near water; everyone needs water to survive."

"And you think it's out there somewhere."

"I know it's out there. Whether or not it's where I figure is the question, but it's worth looking."

"Did you bring a shovel?"

"I brought a folding trowel. If they wanted to retrieve it later, they wouldn't have gone too deep."
"How do you know nobody else found it?"

"It's not a precise science, Michelle."

"I'm going to go get a drink. Do you want anything?"

"Nah, thanks, I'm good. I'll keep an eye on the kids here for a while."

One nice thing about this trip, the mornings weren't too hot and humid. I drank a cup of coffee while I stood over the fire, scrambling some eggs in a pan. 

Tif was looking over the railing of the porch at me. "Is that toothpaste you have on the pan there?"

"It is. I always bring some. Old trick I learned as a kid---You smear toothpaste all over your cookware before you put it on the fire. The toothpaste scorches instead of your pan. Preserves stuff; this cook kit was made in 1975. It's the same one I used as a kid; it's older than you."

"Last day today. You got anything planned?"

"The kids are going to spend most of it at the pool, though there was talk of glitter tattoos later. Personally, I thought I might go out and explore a bit."

"Bye, Dad!" called Paul. "See you later!"

It's been nine years, and I still get a little thrill every time he says Dad. I'll never really get tired of that.

"Aren't you coming?" asked Serina.

"I have to get cleaned up here. I'll catch up with you guys a bit later, see how you're doing. And tonight, I want to burn off the last of the campfire wood. So I'm gonna start a big fire, and you guys can eat marshmallows until you puke."

"You do too much," she said, and raced off after Paul and Michelle.

I walked down to the wash station with the breakfast dishes and washed them. A few years ago, this sort of thing bugged me, but then I realized that nobody else could do it right and I didn't like swimming anyway. I put everything away and straightened up the cabin a bit, then pulled out my uniform and put it on.

Time to do my thing.

I walked down the path, and then veered into the woods. I stopped a moment to check the map, and then continued. At the bottom of the hill, there was a pond, and Stewart Run cut right through the forest about there. I followed it, going southeast. 

If I'd walked along the road, I was looking at a couple of miles of hiking. Assuming I could stick close to Stewart Run, I would be cutting a lot of time off my trip.

It was a nice morning.

I followed the creek downhill, pushing my way through the brush. I couldn't tell at exactly what point it entered the protected natural area nearby, but I followed it to the back road on the map. There, the creek crossed the road, exactly where it had centuries ago.

"X marks the spot," I said softly.

I got out the EMF detector and scouted around a bit, hoping to find some sign of the Native American ghost guarding the place. Nothing. I switched over to temperature, and realized it had dropped to 71.

What the hell? It's getting to be like a hundred and sixty out here. How am I getting a dip like that?
I looked around. There was a cool breeze coming from my left. I followed it, and found the goddamnedest swampiest area I'd ever seen. It was coated with mud and muck, enough to suck me down like quicksand. On the other side there was a rock outcropping, and that seemed to be where the breeze was coming from.

Swamps can contain their own fixes, if you look hard enough. The ground is wet and soft, but not solid enough to support trees. I selected a decent-looking tree and braced myself between it and a rock. They'll grow 'em, but they won't support 'em.

I shoved, and the tree uprooted and went over. It crashed across the swamp, giving me a small bridge to use. I balanced my way across to the rock outcropping.

Standing on stable rock, I examined it. The breeze seemed to be coming from behind a decent-sized flat rock. I got out a small prybar and worked my way around, wiggling it free, and then pulled it out. And, bam, there it was. A small cavern, hidden behind the rock.

I got a small flashlight out of my vest pocket and shined it inside, examining the interior. 

That looks pretty precarious to me. That whole thing could collapse, and three hundred years of neglect hasn't helped any. 

On the other hand, it is a good place to hide a buried treasure.

I crawled inside. Slow, careful. If I fucked this up, I could get buried like Fort Reed, and nobody even knew where to look for me. Probably I should have told someone where I was going. A few feet back, it opened up more, and I was able to get up and walk crouched over.

At the far end, there was a flat rock sitting on the ground. A small package was on it, folded paper tied up with string.

When I reached out and picked it up, the whole thing fell apart. Inside was a handful of small metallic nuggets, sparkling in the flashlight.

Brushing the dirt and dust off, I examined them.

We got a storm that night. The kids were out at the movie when it started to rain, and I went down and walked them back home. When we got back to the cabin, it really began to pour.

"We're gonna die," commented Serina, lying on the top bunk.

"Nobody dies," I said. "It's just a storm. We've been through it before. Having started with one last year, I much prefer getting the storm at the end of the trip."

"Do we have to go to bed yet?" asked Paul.

"Well, first, I have an announcement," I said. "You remember that buried treasure? Good news and bad news. This morning, I did some hiking, and I found it." I brought out the handful of nuggets.

"What's the bad news?" asked Serina.

"Well, this isn't gold. It's iron pyrite. Fool's gold. The robbers a long time ago didn't know the difference---They stole this, and hid it, but it's not valuable."

Paul turned a nugget over in his hand, looking it over. "Can I have some of this?"

"Sure. You can add it to your rock collection."

"You do too much," said Serina.

"You do too much."

Paul and Serina climbed up on the bunk together, looking it over. Eventually, they turned to their tablets, and began watching some silly video online. I'd begun the summer wishing they'd have a good one, and it seemed to have happened. I watched them, two best friends, being little kids for a while. The only treasures I'd ever really needed to discover.

"Bedtime soon, guys," I said. "I want everyone to get lots of sleep. We have a big day tomorrow---We're heading home."