or so pounds, and a whole lot of muscle were voting against baseball.
Absolutely against baseball—but after a while the Muscle decided he might not insist on basketball if they could think of something else to do. Something entirely different. And that was how the PROs, as Bucky and Eddy and Carlos sometimes called themselves, wound up digging in the old unfinished basement at Dragoland.
Of course, they’d dug clubhouses there before. Nearly every kid who lived in Castle Court had. The Pit, surrounded as it was by an old brick foundation wall, was a great place for dug-out clubhouses—deep, circular holes with ledges for sitting on all around the edge and a place for a table or fire pit in the center.
When they were only second graders the PROs had cleaned out and deepened an old clubhouse that Carlos’s big brothers had started years before. And last year in fourth grade they’d dug a brand-new one. And each time, when the digging was all finished, they’d held a few meetings in it.
The first thing you did at a meeting was to choose a club name and president. (Bucky was always president so that part never took long.) And then you sat around on the ledges talking about other secret stuff. About who would be the club’s official enemies, for instance—like a few guys who lived on Beaumont Avenue. And girls, of course. Almost all girls. But the clubs never lasted long. After the fun of digging was over, there never seemed to be a whole lot more to do.
But now they were starting a new clubhouse in a new place. In the farthest corner, where no one had dug before because the ground was too hard and rocky. But Bucky thought the PROs could do it—easy. “It’s the best place in the whole Pit for a clubhouse,” he said. “Over here in this private corner, all by itself. It’s just going to take a little extra muscle, that’s all.”
So, without saying much more, they’d started digging. There’d been a lot of grunting and puffing as the three of them stomped and scooped and threw, but hardly any talking. No one was saying much of anything. With this clubhouse, even the digging wasn’t turning out to be all that much fun.
Chapter 2
C ARLOS AND EDDY AND Bucky had been digging silently for about half an hour when Bucky said, “Hey, watch it.”
“Watch what?” Carlos asked.
“Where you’re digging. This is my place. You’re supposed to be over there.”
Carlos straightened up and inspected his hands for blisters. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I started here, that’s why. And Eddy started over there. So this part of the circle”—Bucky walked over and kicked at the ground and grinned one of his “in your face” grins—“this nice solid part is all yours, Garcia.”
Bucky went back to digging and after a minute so did Carlos. He slammed his shovel down into the “nice solid” earth and jumped on the top of the blade with both feet. The blade sank into the soil a few inches and then stopped dead with a funny screeching noise. Carlos pulled it out and tried again—and got the same results.
“What was that?” Eddy came over and peered into the hole. “Sounded like you hit something.”
Bucky stayed where he was but he obviously was interested too. “Probably just a pipe,” he said. “You just hit a pipe.”
Carlos put down his shovel and picked up the trowel that was used for finishing the ledges. Crouching down, he scraped away the dirt that the shovel had loosened—and sure enough, right away he began to hit some metal. But it wasn’t a pipe. What it was, it gradually became apparent, was a box . A box made of some kind of thick metal, like very heavy tin. As Carlos went on scraping and digging around the box, both Eddy and Bucky came over and squatted down beside him.
“It’s a chest.” Eddy’s voice had an excited sound to it. “Like maybe …” He stopped and watched for a moment as Carlos’s scraping began to uncover a rusty padlock. “Like maybe a treasure
Absolutely against baseball—but after a while the Muscle decided he might not insist on basketball if they could think of something else to do. Something entirely different. And that was how the PROs, as Bucky and Eddy and Carlos sometimes called themselves, wound up digging in the old unfinished basement at Dragoland.
Of course, they’d dug clubhouses there before. Nearly every kid who lived in Castle Court had. The Pit, surrounded as it was by an old brick foundation wall, was a great place for dug-out clubhouses—deep, circular holes with ledges for sitting on all around the edge and a place for a table or fire pit in the center.
When they were only second graders the PROs had cleaned out and deepened an old clubhouse that Carlos’s big brothers had started years before. And last year in fourth grade they’d dug a brand-new one. And each time, when the digging was all finished, they’d held a few meetings in it.
The first thing you did at a meeting was to choose a club name and president. (Bucky was always president so that part never took long.) And then you sat around on the ledges talking about other secret stuff. About who would be the club’s official enemies, for instance—like a few guys who lived on Beaumont Avenue. And girls, of course. Almost all girls. But the clubs never lasted long. After the fun of digging was over, there never seemed to be a whole lot more to do.
But now they were starting a new clubhouse in a new place. In the farthest corner, where no one had dug before because the ground was too hard and rocky. But Bucky thought the PROs could do it—easy. “It’s the best place in the whole Pit for a clubhouse,” he said. “Over here in this private corner, all by itself. It’s just going to take a little extra muscle, that’s all.”
So, without saying much more, they’d started digging. There’d been a lot of grunting and puffing as the three of them stomped and scooped and threw, but hardly any talking. No one was saying much of anything. With this clubhouse, even the digging wasn’t turning out to be all that much fun.
Chapter 2
C ARLOS AND EDDY AND Bucky had been digging silently for about half an hour when Bucky said, “Hey, watch it.”
“Watch what?” Carlos asked.
“Where you’re digging. This is my place. You’re supposed to be over there.”
Carlos straightened up and inspected his hands for blisters. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I started here, that’s why. And Eddy started over there. So this part of the circle”—Bucky walked over and kicked at the ground and grinned one of his “in your face” grins—“this nice solid part is all yours, Garcia.”
Bucky went back to digging and after a minute so did Carlos. He slammed his shovel down into the “nice solid” earth and jumped on the top of the blade with both feet. The blade sank into the soil a few inches and then stopped dead with a funny screeching noise. Carlos pulled it out and tried again—and got the same results.
“What was that?” Eddy came over and peered into the hole. “Sounded like you hit something.”
Bucky stayed where he was but he obviously was interested too. “Probably just a pipe,” he said. “You just hit a pipe.”
Carlos put down his shovel and picked up the trowel that was used for finishing the ledges. Crouching down, he scraped away the dirt that the shovel had loosened—and sure enough, right away he began to hit some metal. But it wasn’t a pipe. What it was, it gradually became apparent, was a box . A box made of some kind of thick metal, like very heavy tin. As Carlos went on scraping and digging around the box, both Eddy and Bucky came over and squatted down beside him.
“It’s a chest.” Eddy’s voice had an excited sound to it. “Like maybe …” He stopped and watched for a moment as Carlos’s scraping began to uncover a rusty padlock. “Like maybe a treasure
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