Marsh Island by Sonya Bates Page B

stepped off the trail and pushed through the bushes. He followed the sound until he found a wide stream, bubbling over the rocks.
    â€œCool,” he said.
I bet we’ll find some frogs
, he thought,
or maybe some fish.
    Tommy tugged at his shirt. “Let’s go back now,” he said.

    â€œNot yet,” said Jake, shaking him off. “I want to have a look around.” He stepped onto a boulder at the stream’s edge.
    I’m an explorer
, thought Jake. My feet are the first to cross this water and step onto new land.
    He held his head high and leaped across to another rock. But the stone was wet and slippery. Before he could say Christopher Columbus, his foot plunged into the stream. The water was like ice. He sucked in his breath and hopped across the stream to a rock on the other side.
    â€œWhere are you going, Jake?” called Tommy. “Aren’t we going back?”
    Jake ignored him.
    New land, he thought. Untouched by humans. The only footprints here will be animal tracks. Frogs, birds, foxes, deer, maybe even bears!
His heart beat a little faster at the thought, and he had a quick look around. Then he laughed at himself. There weren’t any bears around here.
    But something had been there. Halfway up the bank, he spotted a dark shape under a bush. He stepped off the rock and headed toward it, his shoes sinking into the soft muddy bank.
    â€œJake? Come back,” said Tommy. His voice was wobbling again.
    â€œIn a minute,” called Jake. “I found something.”

Chapter Two
BURIED TREASURE
    Jake shoved the bush out of the way and knelt to have a closer look. Two sticks were stuck in the ground and crossed at the middle to make an
X
.
    â€œWhat is it? What did you find?” asked Tommy, splashing across the stream. He clambered up the bank and dropped to his knees next to Jake.
    â€œI’m not sure,” said Jake. “But someone put these sticks here on purpose. You know, so they could find the spot again.”
    â€œLike pirate treasure?
X
marks the spot?”
    â€œYeah.” Jake grinned. “Come on, help me dig.”
    Jake pulled out the two sticks. He gave one to Tommy.

    I am a pirate
, Jake thought,
returning for my buried treasure. Gold, coins, jewels, all mine.
He scraped away at the dirt, punching the stick into the mud.
Could a pirate really have buried something here?
he wondered. Then he remembered something his dad had told him the night before they’d left home. A tale about the island, about some madman who’d lived there, years and years ago. He’d thought it was just a story, but maybe it was true.
    â€œI wonder if crazy old Marsh put these here,” he said.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œDidn’t Dad tell you the Marsh Island story?”
    â€œNo.” Tommy sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
    â€œWell, the island was named after this man, Alfred Marsh,” said Jake. He kept digging and didn’t look up. “Marsh was rich—I think he owned a bank or something—and lived in this huge mansion in the city. He had heaps of servants waiting on him all day,bringing him whatever he wanted, answering the phone, driving him around. All he had to do was snap his fingers, and someone came running.”
    Jake held his hand up and clicked his fingers sharply at Tommy. Tommy giggled.
    Jake picked a couple of rocks out of the hole and tossed them aside. “But one day the bank went bust, and he went nuts.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHe turned into a zombie. Just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Didn’t talk, didn’t eat, didn’t get up.”
    Tommy stopped digging. “Not even to go to the bathroom?”
    â€œNah,” said Jake, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “They didn’t have any servants anymore, so
Mrs.
Marsh had to put diapers on him like a baby.”
    â€œEwww!” Tommy wrinkled his nose.
    Jake stabbed his stick in the hole.